#what can i say that hasn’t been said before

[corroded-hellfire]

I just need pre-relationship AYW!Eddie all pent up and feral for Reader. I need him whimpering when he touches himself after Reader leaves for the evening. I need him trying to picture anyone else besides his kids’ babysitter but he keeps picturing Reader.

Your wish is my command! 😘

Warnings: male masturbation, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), older!eddie, babysitter!reader, the longing is real

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Go to sleep now,” you grumble playfully, ruffling Luke’s curls as he smiles up at you from his bed.

“One more story?” Luke asks, though his voice betrays how sleepy he already is.

“Come on, buddy,” Eddie says from the doorway. “She’s been nice enough to stay for dinner and read you two bedtime stories already.”

A smile that steals Eddie’s breath grows on your lips as you turn to look at your boss.

“You make it sound like such a hardship,” you quip.

“I don’t think your union allows for overtime,” Eddie replies.

You let out a soft giggle and Eddie feels his insides begin to melt. It’s catastrophically unfair, the effect you have on him. Not in his whole life has Eddie met someone who so effortlessly turns him on and makes his heart race. As impossible as it is to ignore the feelings, Eddie tries not to linger on them for a few reasons. One, you’re a complete pipe dream. There is no way you, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and hilarious you would ever see a man over a decade older than you in the same light that he sees you. Two, and which he admits is arguably the bigger reason, is that he’s married. Sure, it hasn’t been a real marriage in…God knows how long. But it’s still a legally binding marriage that he hasn’t even attempted to separate from. Not for lack of want, though. It’s hard to see a point when it would cause the breakup of his boys’ family, and for what? So Eddie could be all alone in some smaller unfamiliar home that he struggles to afford on his own while caring for his sons, only getting to see them half the time he does now? No. He basically is doing it all alone right now, with the lack of input from Brittany, but at least Luke and Ryan are in the home they know and the two combined household incomes can give them a pretty good life.

Unfortunately, all the logic in the world can’t cure Eddie’s addiction to you.

“Close your eyes, sleepyhead.” You stand up from the edge of the four-year-old’s bed and lean over to press a kiss to his forehead.

The way you bend down towards the boy gives Eddie a spectacular view of your ass. He’s forced to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to suppress the groan that so desperately wants to escape. As much as he internally chides himself, Eddie can’t tear his eyes away either. He gets so few chances to just look at you, that he can’t bring himself to cut this precious time short.

“Night night,” Luke says through a yawn.

“Night, pal,” Eddie says.

You boop your index finger against the little boy’s nose before standing up straight and heading in Eddie’s direction. The two of you exit into the hallway and Eddie closes the door almost all the way–leaving it open just a crack to allow some of the hallway light in.

The two of you are silent as you walk to the living room, both silently dreading that it’s time to part for the evening. You swipe your bag up from the couch and slip it onto your shoulder.

“I guess I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” you say, reluctantly taking steps toward the front door.

“Thanks for staying longer than you had to,” Eddie says, walking you to the door like always. He feels like he should add the words “for the boys” to the end of his sentence, but he can’t bring himself to. As much as the boys adore you, Eddie knows he is without a doubt the happiest one that you stayed for dinner and until bedtime.

“It was fun,” you tell him. “I always have fun here.”

“Always?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows. “Can I remind you that you said that the next time Luke has a meltdown?”

“Sure,” you reply with a chuckle.

The electricity in the air threatens to spark at any moment as Eddie reaches around you to open the front door.

“Drive careful, sweetheart,” he says.

“No,” you tease with a playful smirk. “I’m going to drive recklessly. Run all the red lights.”

“Don’t give me reason to worry,” Eddie mumbles, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Aww,” you coo. “You worry about me?”

Heat rises to Eddie’s cheeks and he desperately wills it to move back down his body.

“Alright, smart ass.” Eddie wrinkles his nose up and pretends to shove you out the door.

With a laugh, you playfully stumble down the walkway a few steps, acting as if his push was that strong.

“Oh, fine!” you lament over-dramatically. “I’ll be a good girl! Bye, Eddie.”

A good girl. Suddenly, Eddie wishes that heat and blood would stay in his face instead of rushing to his groin like it currently is.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The moment you’re safely in your car and Eddie hears the engine start, he closes the front door and groans in time with the locking mechanism clicking into place.

“This just feels cruel,” he mumbles to himself as he rests his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He lets himself stand there until he hears your car rumble down the road and off into the night.

It takes a Herculean effort to push himself up and head deeper into the house. Out of habit, Eddie glances at the clock on the wall to see if Brittany will be home soon or not. It’s useless though—there’s never a set time she comes home. Who knows where she is or what she’s doing? Or who she’s doing. The pseudo-schedule the household used to follow has fallen by the wayside, so Eddie mentally tells himself to ignore it altogether. Easier said than done, of course.

When Eddie steps into the hallway it’s silent. No sounds of Luke sneaking out of bed to play with his toys or Ryan fumbling for his flashlight to read beneath his covers. Heaving a sigh, Eddie decides he might as well take care of the situation in his pants.

Despite Brittany not being home, Eddie locks the bedroom door behind him. Luke has also started the bad habit of opening any and every door without knocking first. So, better to be safe than sorry.

“Okay, think of someone else,” Eddie says to himself as he rids himself of his clothes. “Anyone else. Not her.”

It shouldn’t be hard to think of another woman to get himself off. Hell, for the entirety of Eddie’s teenage years, he could’ve jacked it to almost any woman and it would be great. Now he can’t seem to get this one specific, unattainable woman out of his mind.

He shucks the last of his clothes off and lays down on his bed, wracking his brain for someone who can get the job done. Julia Roberts? Nah. Jennifer Aniston? No. Cindy Crawford? Nope. Nicole Kidman? Maybe….no. Aunt Viv from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? The first, not the second one. Still no.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, letting his eyes fall closed as he wraps his hand around his semi-hard shaft. He licks over his lips and tries to let himself relax. The only way Eddie is going to be able to take care of this problem is to think about you and he knows it. He also knows he needs to hurry up if he wants to finish before Brittany comes home.

The mere thought of the woman who sleeps next to him at night has him softening slightly in his hand. A snort of laughter comes out, Eddie finding that humorous. Objectively, Brittany is beautiful, but knowing the rot and decay that lays just beneath the surface ruins any attractiveness Eddie could ever find in her anymore. Even though he already knows what will happen, Eddie immediately switches his thoughts over to you to see the effect. It’s instant. His cock comes to life at the very thought of your name.

No shit, Eddie thinks to himself as he opens his legs a little wider. Because she’s literally a fucking goddess. God, those eyes. Eddie’s hand grips himself a little tighter and moves down towards the base.

“Say you’re a good girl again, baby,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. Fuck, he can’t believe he was lucky enough to hear those words come from your lips. Jesus, he can hardly imagine being lucky enough to come home to you at the end of the day. Walking in the door after work and seeing you is already what he looks forward to all day, he can’t fathom how he would feel if you greeted him with a kiss and stayed there with him and the boys all night. And once the boys go to bed it’s time for some fun.

“Please.”

The word tumbles from Eddie’s lips but he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. You to be there with him? You to be by his side always? You to be here, naked, with your hand around him instead of his own?

Okay, Eddie thinks, shifting to make himself more comfortable. There we go, think about coming home to her.

He begins to slowly stroke his cock up and down.

Eddie imagines walking through the front door and kicking his boots off. Your voice hums sweetly from the kitchen and it brings a smile to his face.

“What smells so good, huh?” he asks as he strolls into the room.

The sight he’s greeted by is almost enough to bring him to his knees. You stand at the counter, facing him, an apron on and a bowl full of cake batter held in your hands.

“Welcome home,” you say.

Dark brown eyes follow your every move as you slowly dip your forefinger into the batter and pop it into your mouth. Eddie finds himself holding his breath as you slide your finger out from between your plush pink lips at a torturous pace.

As if the first time wasn’t enough, you dip your finger back in, but instead of putting it in your mouth this time, you point your finger up and stick your tongue out to lick every speck of vanilla batter off of it.

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie moans.

With a soft laugh, you set the bowl down and look up at Eddie through your thick eyelashes.

“Funny. I was going to say that to you.”

A rough growl reverberates from Eddie’s chest as he moves forward to grab you by the hips. It’s only once he has his hands on you that he realizes not only are you wearing the apron—you’re wearing only the apron.

“God damn, baby,” he mutters. Calloused hands slide back just slightly and come into contact with your bare ass. He drops his head forward to rest against yours with a helpless whine.

You giggle, tilting your head up to brush your nose against his.

“I like the sounds you make,” you tell him, voice thick with lust.

Before he responds, Eddie presses a few gentle kisses along your bare shoulder and up the side of your throat.

“I want to hear your noises, too.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “I don’t think that’ll be very hard to manage.” You reach up with your left hand and tug on the tied apron string resting on the nape of your neck. The front of the apron falls down, leaving your entire torso exposed to Eddie.

A guttural groan meets your ears as strong hands grab you by the waist and help you up onto the counter. Immediately, you spread your legs and Eddie stands between them, the two of you fighting with the apron to get it all the way off you.

Eddie tosses it over his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling the two of your bodies as close as possible.

“Eddie,” you whine, reaching up to bury your fingers in his unruly curls.

“What baby?” His breath brushes against your lips, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Need you.” Using your grip on his hair, you pull Eddie’s face down to crash against yours.

Mouths meet, lips dancing, tongues exploring, and teeth clashing. Strong yet gentle fingertips dig into your skin, yearning to hold you as tight as humanly possible. Nothing is close enough.

Eddie pulls back just enough to playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Being such a good girl for me,” he rasps.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you run your nose along the edge of Eddie’s jawline.

“Wanna be so good for you. Wanna feel you, Eddie. Pretty please?”

A smug smirk grows on Eddie’s face as he reaches between your two bodies to unzip his navy blue coveralls. You shove the material down his hips as Eddie whips his white undershirt off over his head.

“Ready for me, princess?”

Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, glancing up at your face as he waits for your approval.

“God, yes!” You nod emphatically, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you faster.

Eddie grins at your eagerness, putting both of you out of your misery as he pushes inside.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Oh!” You whimper, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders.

The sweet little noises spilling from your lips only encourage Eddie. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back into your tight wet heat. It feels as close to euphoria as Eddie’s ever felt. He wants to spend forever between your legs, but it feels far too good to last long.

“Feels so good,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” Eddie asks. “Like when I…oh, fuck.”

Eddie doesn’t have time to imagine what he’d say next before hot cum starts to pour over his fist.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as his orgasm works its way through his body. His hand keeps going, milking his cock for everything that it’s worth.

Once he’s well and truly spent, Eddie lets his boneless body sink into the mattress. His arm flings over the side of the bed and his fingertips brush against his t-shirt laying on the floor. Blindly, he picks it up and wipes his coated hand off before wiping the cum off his abdomen, legs, and anywhere else it went.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs. His head falls to the side and his eyes slip closed. A goofy smile comes to his face as his mind returns to you. “Fuck, I’m so gone for her.”

[24hrsoda]

me: i—

literally everyone: rewatched The Batman (2022), again, and need to talk about bruce and alfred. we know.

[charmed-asylum]

The award for god damn my mouth drop like a cartoon cat goes to SY but u know . I know he doesn’t beat around the bush. However, was I thinking he be like this . And shit I can say from experience and studies that a lot he doing goes right with it. I mean sad thing and it’s really not just one person to pin point who could of fix this besides Thor town folks and trailer trash mom ( now idk where she grew up but hey it’s not me but cliches) that could of help. It’s sad because for her case she probably isn’t a slut while Sy is crazy he just type that knows it but tries to be all wooo man I mean I’m not crazy I’m caring but if u ever mess with me then haha u be getting a dead cat in your mail box or a stalker for life but wooooooo I’m just caring and being a human . Shit pat on the back and you good is looking out a simple box of stuff is looking out non stop poof Sy there is not helping out it’s stalking but bc this town is so small folks won’t see it. Oh he lucky that town size of a city block.

“On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body” honey this statement so spot on huh one a check back in the day like your time period AU money u get paid can last a month or last time now it’s like a blink poof gone and your body lord I’m only in my 20s and the issues I’m having at my age blown minds.

Sy just always there and idk why but it’s big ( lord I’m drooling and have not finish this thought) well as a whole get always with the sneak attack shit I’m barley 5 foot and I still have issues . Bc I’m too short they turn around and still don’t see me I gotta jump be like Boo. Anyway still damn “. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. “ also going back to my girl you got yourself a lifetime 20/20 level stalker. Hahaha way you keep doing Thor I can’t “ It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. “ I wonder still wonder because he hasn’t been front with her which I feel it coming feel it coming . ( still gonna be shock) but on the why he gave her a reason which I’m gonna point out in a second but can “ I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." be one I mean it be least crazy one . And if not does he pray on pregnant women because of well a lot tumblr taught me a lot about kinks but because how easy the target she or how her emotions not there or pregnancy brain. “ You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you” also that he was so close to Thor which questioned his character like so he mad bc what Thor did or he use Thor for some reason. Because in small time I can’t see some friends falling out so easy bc hello who else u got .

This again makes me feel bad for her because while Sy seems nice and it your name was the fluff you don’t ask for I be all aww so cute and romantic but no nothing ever good and sweet it’s an huh my leg said in a sponge bob character voice. Like never so simple and sweet but damn how bad I felt reading this “ You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt.. Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment” and fact he open ( after 1st day seeing her) mention he read books about pregnancy. It makes her wall slowly start to crack. “ He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.”

HAAH I’m sure many mention this but lord can you imagine “ He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. “ But no the way that he watches her even down to her fingers. Or what way her EYES 👀 may go. He’s watching her as if I only watching tho his pray but as if he I don’t know still in war zone, looking through his sniper or goggles, watching his enemy. But still huh I hate it the perfect crazy stalker but idk even talking to her not at her or down to her .

AND HE SO HONESTLY BLUNT like okay he playing a game of 1s and 00s and we doing tic tac toe. Still like , “ "Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me….. His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." that to me feels ( because not 1st time) he thinking on how to say it like before with the honest but down play it. In away which is why I feel there more.

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[stevenose]

while we’re on the subject…

I feel like Steve wouldn’t be that into smoking, and even if he wanted to he’d end up babysitting everyone who was high bc yknow forever a mother.

but but but imagine he has a crush on reader who is very big stoner vibes, but he’s been too nervous to make a move. they’re at a get together with the older kids and maybe some randoms. they go outside with Eddie a few others to smoke, and for the first time ever Steve ends up opening the sliding door and asking to join.

He sits next to reader and takes a hit and suddenly he’s back to his king Steve bullshit. He’s brazen with his stares, his compliments and little touches. Everyone is too high to notice, except reader who has no idea how to respond. Something about not only seeing Steve going back to his cocky, brazen self, but to do it all while holding a joint between his fingers, does it for me personally.

i love this so so much….!!!!! anon this is such a good idea.

like it’s a little bit pathetic when he comes out and coughs his head off and refuses water when everyone knows he needs it. and he still sort of chastises everyone because you’re smoking too much, you’re gonna get sick!

but he kind of forgot how awesome being high is. he hasn’t smoked since senior year of high school and he’s almost wondering why he stopped.

and, actually, his old high school self comes out when he smokes. ten minutes after his last hit he’s walking like he owns the world, cracking witty jokes, winking at you like you’re sharing a secret. you’re taken aback, not used to a laid back, suave steve.

he sits side by side with you, his thigh pressing against yours. he’s hot. always runs hot. he’s making you hot, the joint back in his hands as it rotates around the coffee table. he’s telling a story, animated, chuckling. ashes the joint and holds it out to you.

“take a big hit for me, huh?”

steve holds the damn thing while you inhale, staring at him with wide eyes. he disappears in a cloud of smoke when you exhale, and it’s like it’s only you and him. there’s a sidebar conversation happening over something steve said and no one notices when he winks at you.

and he passes it past you to the next person, casual again while you sit reeling. your heart beats quick and you wonder if he can feel it or hear it. if he knows how worked up he just got you.

“you okay?” he asks, leaning over to speak softly into your ear.

“yeah.” it’s unconvincing.

he puts a hand on your thigh as if to comfort you. “too big?”

your eyes widen. “huh?”

“the hit,” he grins. “too big for you?”

you stare because you don’t know how to answer. really dumbstruck over him. you didn’t even know he could be this way.

“you’re really pretty, you know.” steve squeezes your thigh, makes sure to drag his fingers inward and up swiftly before pulling away. “look so pretty with your lips wrapped around that.”

he nods towards the joint that’s been stalling in eddie’s hands for about three minutes now, while everyone listens to him tell the story about how he spent three days in jail.

you still don’t know what to say, suddenly feeling too high - dizzy, a little in love. “thank you.”

he tilts his head, furrows his brows, a gleam in his eyes giving away his lack of sincerity. “makes me wonder what else your lips look good wrapped around.”

“harrington! what’s the name of that jackass football player that bought the blow from me?”

steve turns to answer him, like he didn’t just make your thighs clench. you take a deep breath and run your hand through your hair, looking around the room to see if anyone else noticed. they didn’t, of course.

but he’s back, casual again while he puts his arm around you. makes it look like he’s just getting comfortable. you can smell him - the cologne, the hairspray, the weed, his sandalwood deodorant. it’s all encompassing, comforting, makes you salivate for more.

you turn to look at him, catching his little smirk.

steve looks back at you, so fondly, his soft eyes red.

“what?” he asks.

“steve.”

his fingers find the strap of your bra under your shirt. he rubs over it. “somethin’ wrong? y’got somethin’ to tell me?”

you feel hypnotized by his eyes. “‘n-no.”

he talks softly to you. “you need somethin’, then? you feeling okay? need me to take care of you?”

you freeze, thinking for a long moment before nodding. because he looks to damn good with his hooded eyes and a shirt that might rip if he exerts his muscles to much. it’s precisely what you’d like to see, in fact. need to see those strong biceps, need to see them straining while he holds himself up over you. need him to take care of you like he always does when he’s sober.

“think you should go lay down.” his nose almost touches yours. “be right up to make you feel better, ‘kay?”

and you’re running up to the guest bedroom within seconds.

[rosenclaws]

Would you Fall in Love with Me Again (Alternate) || Worst!Logan x Reader

I will fall in love with you over and over again I don't care how, where, or when No matter how long it's been, you're mine

warnings: angst to fluff, description of violence, Wade being wade, he calls you princess

wc: 2.5k

a/n: This is the alternate plot to the other fic I wrote of the same name. You can find that here! I just really liked both plots and I think this turned out pretty good :) This is also 1k words more than the other one idk what happened there lol

Logan was having a really shitty day. All he wanted was to get drunk but some asshole in red spandex decided to come and ruin his day. Now he's sitting in someone's fucking hideout with no hope of getting out of this hell hole. At least there's booze here.

"You always take shit that doesn't belong to you?" He growls as he takes another chug.

"Fuck off." He turns to berate the unknown voice but stops dead in his tracks.

He sobers up real fucking quick as he takes in the figure before him. Without thinking your name slips from his lips. It feels so foreign coming from him. He hasn't said your name in years.

"Logan?" You take a step forward, could this really be him? No...I can't.

Your Logan would never be caught dead in that uniform. He refused to wear it, no matter how much you begged him to wear it. But this man, he just felt so familiar.

“Thor!” Your attention snaps to the other man in red.

As the commotion begins you slip back into the shadows. You don’t bother to listen to whatever nonsense is coming from the guy in red. Laura brought them here.

You knew she had a Logan, just like you. Except her Logan died. You didn’t know he could. It made you think about your Logan. They sounded pretty similar. Mean, angry, drunk. But had that softer side almost no one else saw but a select few. Your eyes land on the Wolverine standing by Red.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. Maybe this was him. You want it to be him, but that little glimmer of hope refuses to shine. What if its not. You can’t lose him again. You think back to that night. That awful night.

He was going off to the bars again and you all asked him to stay. You begged him for one night to stay home with the team, with you. But he walked away. It was the dead of night when you heard them. You had been waiting for Logan to come home when you heard the footsteps and the shouting.

In a blink of an eye everything was gone. Friends dead. Mansion destroyed. You had fought back as best you could but they killed everyone. Everyone except you. You don’t know how or why you survived but apart of you wished you hadn’t. Then your thoughts drifted to Logan. What would happen when he came home? What if they had gotten to him too?

Before you could even think of finding him. Some assholes in these weird suits showed up. Zapping you with some thing and sending you here. Its been a long time since then. The void was your home now and these people were your family. Every day you wished you could go back to your world, find your Logan. But it seems he might have been brought back to you.

“I know this movie is R rated but if you two could keep the eye fucking to a minimum that would be great.” Red pipes up.

“Shut the fuck up.” Both you and Logan say. Glaring at the loudmouth man.

“Aww how cute, twining!.” He coos at Logan who raises his fist, ready to stick three claws right into his face. Red lets out a shriek and runs to hide behind you.

“What the fuck?” You ask as he peeks over your shoulder.

“Sorry honey bunches but I’m not ready to go another round with peanut over there so you’re my human shield.” You raise your eyebrow at Logan who puts away his claws.

“Fucking coward.” He stares at you before shaking his head and leaving.

“How rude, you think he’s be happy to see you and we’d get one of those notebook pride and prejudice style romance scenes.” He says before leaving you alone.

Seemingly unaware of the bomb he had dropped on you. A plan forms but you don’t pay any mind. So this is him. That is your Logan. He’s so different. Sure he was never the nicest man but he just seemed, broken now. Like all hope and love had been drained from his mind. Leaving only rage in its wake.

As night falls you see him outside, drinking by the fire. Laura sits with him. You wonder what it’s like for her to see him. If it was as jarring for her as it feels for you. Slowly you walk outside, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. Catching only a few words here and there. When Laura leaves he calls out.

“Whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy.” She turns, catching your gaze for a moment before looking back at him.

"You were always the wrong guy." As she walks away you slowly walk towards him.

This isn't the reunion you expected. When you imagined seeing him again it was a lot nicer. You would find your way out of here and go home, find him and tell him how much you missed him.

"You just gonna stand there?" Logan's voice feels so much colder.

Though you see the instant regret in his eyes as he looks at you. He darts around before staring back down at the fire. You make your way over and sit on the log next to him. His sleeves are ripped and his suit bloodied. This was the suit you never thought you'd see on him.

"Logan, is it really you." You reach out to touch his cheek but he ducks his head away from you.

"Please, I've been dreaming of this day ever since I landed in his hell hole. Tell me that this is real." He can barely meet your eyes as he swirls the brown liquid in the bottle around.

He nods his head. A small part of him says to lie. Look you in the eyes and tell you he's not from the same universe. That he isn't the Logan who abandoned you, walked away from you. But fuck has he missed you.

"You look different, tired. Can it really be you?" You say softly as you turn your body towards him, moving closer. The grip on his bottle tightens as he builds up the courage to look at you. You're just as beautiful as he remembered.

"I...I'm not the man you remember." He says lowly. His face feels heavy in your hands. Like he's letting you bare the weight he's been holding.

"You're still my husband." You hum as you bring your other hand to scratch behind his ear.

"No, I've changed. I'm not the husband you remember." He closes his eyes, relishing in your touch. You used to do this to calm him down.

"Princess..." He takes your hands away from his face.

"I've done things. Horrible things. I...I'm no hero. I wanted to be one, for you but..." He stops.

"I was weak. But I've missed you. Every fucking day I think about you." The angry quips and drunken growls were gone. This was the Logan only you got to see. The tired, broken, vulnerable Logan.

"Would you still love me? Would you fall for me again? If you knew." He whispers. He's terrified of the answer. He became a monster. He didn't have the team or Charles or you to ground him anymore.

"What did you do my love?" You ask. His eyes darken, head hanging in shame.

"I came home and you were all dead. Every single one of you. I-" He stops, the memories pouring into his head.

"I looked for your body, through the smell of blood and death I could still smell your perfume. But I couldn't find you." He remembers staining his clothes with blood. Hands soaked as he searched the mansion for you.

"When I couldn't find you, I thought they had taken you. To experiment or something. So I tracked them down. I found them and I killed them." His eyes lit with a fiery rage. Tears were pooling in your eyes as you listened to what your husband had to go through.

"I killed every last one of them. Hunted them down until I was sure they were all dead for what they did. But I couldn't find you. You were gone and I didn't even have a body to bury." He spits.

He takes his hands away from you, closing himself off again as he chugs the rest of the bottle. Old habits die hard.

"After they were all dead, I couldn't rest. I was so angry. So I kept killing. Didn't matter who. I left a trail of blood and turned the whole world against mutants." He laughs bitterly as he tosses the bottle over his shoulder.

It shatters and a piece digs itself into his shoulder. He barely even notices. Like the pain is something he's used to at this point. Gently you take the piece and tug it out.

"So much for being a hero huh?" He looks at you, expecting the worst as he builds back the walls he had just taken down.

"Logan..." To his shock you weren't angry or disgusted. You were crying. Tears are falling down your face, a look of utter heartbreak as you see the ghost of the man you once knew.

"I'm so sorry." You cry as you wrap your arms around him. He's stiffens at your touch. Your sobs break his damn heart.

"Please don't cry princess," He begs.

"I lived. That night I survived and I tried to find you but they sent me here." Logan tenses. Those bastards sent you here. Alone and afraid. A part of him wants to tear those fuckers limb from limb, but the other part knows that if you hadn't been sent here. You'd be dead. He takes your face and wipes away the tears.

"I'm not worth crying over. Shedding tears for a monster..."

"My husband is not a monster!" You say angrily.

"I told you before I'm not your fucking husband anymore!" Logan snaps back.

You wipe your eyes and stuff your hand into your pocket. Logan's breath hitches as he sees your wedding ring. It wasn't much, he couldn't afford the diamond he thought you deserved. Instead he made it, carved the band from a piece of wood and found the prettiest gem he could.

"Are you not the man who gave this to me?!" You shout.

"Till death do us part Logan. I'm not dead, I'm right here. I've been waiting to see you again for years." You take the ring and shove it against his chest.

His hand curls around yours. You were sick of this, you love this man more than life itself. When will he get that? You never wanted the hero, you want Logan.

"If you're not my husband anymore than take it back." His hand grabs your wrist, refusing to let you go. He reaches into his suit, around his neck is a chain and sitting between his dog tags was his ring.

The one that matched yours. He says your name again. This time much quieter, much sadder. There's no doubt in his mind that he isn't good enough for you. He's never been enough for you. The day you said your vows chased away those fears but they always lingered.

Then he lost you and he had just been repeating it in his head over and over again since then. But now you're here, alive and somehow you're looking past it all. Somehow, you still love him.

"Don't you get it Logan. I love you. I love you so much it hurts." You sink to the ground and Logan follows.

Sweeping you up in his arms, protecting you from the dirt and leaves. You're in his lap, hands caressing his face as he holds onto you, arms wrapped around your waist.

"I'd pick you over and over, I don't care how long its been or who you think you are now. You will always be my husband and I will always love you." You lean your forehead against his. Closing your eyes you just take it in. This is real. You’ve found each other again and you won’t let go ever again.

“I’ve fucking missed you.” He growls as he smashes his lips onto you. His hands travel anywhere he can touch.

It’s been so long since he’s felt so desperate. His hand cups the back of your head as he leans you back onto the ground. Crawling over you as he uses his elbows to prop himself up. Your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens the kiss. Breathless you pull away, ready to kiss him again. Footsteps grab both of your attention. Logan covers you as best as he can as he unsheathes his claws.

“Woah there, let us get the intimacy coordinator here before the two of you start the devils dance.”

“Shut the fuck up Wade.” Logan growls as he sits back up. You try and avoid Wade’s gaze as you sit up.

“I didn’t know they made Viagra for 200 year old men.” He says while unashamedly staring at Logan’s crotch.

“Get the fuck out Red.” You hiss.

“Sorry angel, big fan by the way, just came out here to check on peanut.” Logan makes a move to get up and Wade jumps back.

“Fine jesus sorry for being a concerned friend!” He huffs before marching back to the hideout.

“Does he ever shut up?” You ask and Logan grunts.

“No.”

The fire has been slowly dying and the light is fading fast.

“We’re leaving at sunrise for Cassandras. We’re getting out of here.” Logan looks at you with unease. He just got you back and now you’re going to risk your life again.

“We could stay here. This place ain’t so bad.” Not when you’re here. He could make this place a home if you’re with him.

“They need you Logan, they don’t stand a chance without you.” You hum as you pick a leaf out of his hair.

“What if I lose you again? I just got you back.” He can’t let you slip through his fingers.

“You won’t lose me my love. I swear. Laura believes in you and so do I.” He thinks about Laura. The girl who lost her own version of him. Whoever that man was, he was a hero. If he could be a fraction of him, then maybe he could prove he’s more than what he’s become. You love him but he could be the man he always wanted to be for you. He could be proud of the suit , of his title. He can make you proud.

“Okay. But you’re staying by my side the whole time.” You smile and kiss him once again. Sighing as you get to relish being in the arms of your lover again.

“Deal. Now, let’s get some rest.” You guide him to your bed, he curls up next to you.

Burying his face in your chest as you try and sleep. Logan's hold on you is iron clad, he's afraid that when he wakes tomorrow you won't be here, that this was all some strange dream. You place your hand over his, cooing soft words in his ear until he relaxes.

"I love you Logan." You whisper as you close your eyes. Ready to face whatever comes tomorrow with your husband by your side.

[sellasstories]

UNFOLD (I)

word count: 2.0k

main characters: cameron brink, hailey van lith

⚠️warnings⚠️

swearing

summary:

cam’s guide to making friends at the fiba U17 world cup (don’t do as she does, though)

hailey’s guide to getting a best friend at the fiba U17 world cup and then helping said friend make other friends

obligatory background pazzi

Cameron Brink is sixteen years old, and it’s nothing like she thought it was going to be. Six years ago, if you’d told her that at she’d be staring at her name on the finalized list of players on a FIBA Basketball World Cup team, she knows she would’ve wrinkled her nose in disgust and gone off to draw or paint. But as she allows a small smile to cross her face as a deep feeling of relief floods her body, she can’t help but look outward.

All around her, the other girls (her future teammates, she thinks nervously) chatter and push each other around in excitement while she stays rooted to the spot, hands fisting the bottom of her shirt in an attempt to not take up too much space. She’s made her choice; this is going to be her life now, so she had better learn to love everything about it. It’s not a sobering realization exactly, just something that she can’t help but see as another hurdle in her journey to feeling like she truly belongs somewhere.

Cam has participated in enough conversations over the past few days to know that everyone else here has lived and breathed basketball practically from the womb, and it only intensifies the disconnect she feels from the rest of the group. She knows she’s good enough to be here, she just hasn’t figured out how to match the assurance and swagger of her teammates that already have the sport running through their veins.

She takes a deep breath, looking more closely at her surroundings. Azzi was one of the more quiet girls, but she’d been nice all week… maybe she’d be good to talk to? Cam takes all of one step in her direction before she sees another blonde practically catapult herself onto the youngest member of the team, freezing her in her tracks. Cam instantly recognizes Paige, the #1 ranked player in their class, and shakes her head. No way she’s getting in the middle of whatever is building between the two of them.

A persistent tapping on her lower back nearly makes Cam jump as she tears her eyes away from the two guards in front of her. She whips around to see Hailey jerking back to avoid getting hit by her braid. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

Hailey shrugs. “No worries. Can you move real quick, though? All the posts are crowding the list and I can’t even see if my name is on it.” Her tone is casual, but it’s hard to miss her furrowed brows and clenched jaw as she tried to see around the taller girl.

Cam feels her cheeks heating up as she scrambles out of the way. “My bad, um, your name is on there-” she slaps her hand over mouth, realizing that the shorter girl may have wanted to read it herself, “-fuck, I should’ve just let you see, I’m so, so sorry!”

She trails off again when she sees the huge grin on Hailey’s face. The normally serious girl has gone completely still as she beams up at Cam. “What the fuck are you apologizing for? This is the best day of my fucking life!” She shrieks, grabbing both of Cam’s hands and beginning to jump around as her energy returns.

Slightly self-conscious (and wary of her ponytail), Cam hesitates for a moment before joining in. Looking around once again, she accidentally makes eye contact with Fran and is quick to avert her eyes at the slight smirk from the older girl. A Drake song starts blasting from the gym speakers, and as Cam lets Hailey dance around with her, she thinks that maybe she fits in just a little bit.

• • • • •

The Brinks might have been more excited than their daughter, who they needed no encouragement from to start booking flights and hotels so they could watch the whole tournament in Belarus. Cam was grateful to have them there, but disappointed when she learned how strict the team travel policies were.

She knows that she’s probably too old to be wanting to sit next to her mom on the plane, but she misses the comforting presence as the plane speeds down the runway. Luckily, she’s sitting next to Azzi, someone who, in the short amount of time that they’ve known each other, has become something close to a friend. There are certainly worse places to be sitting.

“You good with planes?” The dark-haired girl asks abruptly. “Paige isn’t, she was telling me on FaceTime last night.”

“Yeah, I’ll be ok,” Cam is quick to assure her. “I’m not gonna, like, throw up on you or anything.”

“Mm,” Azzi responds absently, attention clearly elsewhere. Cam follows her line of sight, not surprised when it leads to Paige.

“You really like her, huh?” Cam can’t miss the soft look in Azzi’s eyes.

The guard blinks, carefully smoothing her features. Seeing Cam’s genuine smile, she relaxes a bit. “Yeah, I really do.”

“Well, I hope you get married someday.”

“Married?” Azzi says incredulously. “That’s not even- slow down, we’re just friends.”

Cam raises her hands in surrender. “Whatever you say. I just hope it all works out, really.”

Azzi shakes her head in mock annoyance. “You’re so weird.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Cam knows Azzi didn’t mean anything by it, but it still stings. Not knowing what else to say, they lapse into silence.

Azzi must notice the shift in Cam’s demeanour because she extends an olive branch in the form of a question about the older girl’s mom. The two of them discover that they have more in common than they thought. In between hours of sleep, they’re able to keep up a light flow of conversation about their families, dogs, and mutual love of romance novels.

They’re both soundly asleep when Cam is awoken by repeated tapping on her shoulder. Her eyes fly open and she’s struck with a sense of deja vu when she’s greeted by Hailey’s face uncomfortably close to her own. Slightly unsettled, she instinctively presses her back farther into her seat.

“Finally! I was gonna do something drastic if that took any longer,” Hailey whispers impatiently.

Ignoring her, Cam glances out the window. Sure enough, it’s still pitch black. Rubbing her eyes, she realizes that Hailey has Paige in tow. The two guards are standing awkwardly in the aisle, struggling to keep a low profile.

“What was so urgent that you just had to wake me up at-” Cam checks her phone, “-four in the morning?”

Hailey shrugs. “We have important things to discuss. Oh, and that one-” she jerks her thumb at Paige standing behind her, “-wanted to sit with her girlfriend or whatever.”

“I did not!” Paige exclaims.

“So you didn’t wanna sit with her, then?” Hailey fires back.

Paige throws up her hands in defeat. “Ok, I did, but she’s not my girlfr- you know what, never mind.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hailey turns back to Cam. “Anyway, the whole point of this was getting you to come sit with me.” She extends a hand to the taller girl. “C’mon, I promise we’ll have fun.”

Still a little disoriented, Cam grabs a few things and manages to avoid banging her head on the ceiling as she stands. All the noise and shuffling finally wakes Azzi, who unexpectedly grabs Cam’s arm and pulls her back down.

“What’s going on?” She mumbles sleepily, resting her head on Cam’s shoulder.

The taller girl is a little taken aback, but she hopes that this means Azzi might actually like her. “Honestly, I’m not really sure,” she whispers back. “Paige is here, though, and I think I’m gonna go with Hailey for a bit.”

Azzi perks up at the mention of Paige. “Have fun, I guess,” she yawns, already looking for her best friend.

“You too,” Cam can’t resist giving her a playful nudge before she stands up again. This time she does bang her head, cursing as she steps into the aisle.

“It’s still weird hearing you cuss,” Hailey remarks as she leads them to her seat.

“What? I do it all the time,” Cam whines.

“You’re just too… innocent, I guess? It just feels wrong to me.” Hailey finishes buckling her seat belt. She looks up at Cam with a smirk. “Watch your head!”

“Fuck off,” Cam mutters, smiling despite herself.

“Be nice, I left the aisle for your lanky ass. And by the way, still weird hearing you say it,” Hailey nods like she’s just confirmed a hypothesis.

“Are we not the same age? I thought Azzi was the only young one here.” Cam leans back in her seat, eyes already sliding closed.

“I’m a few months older, but that’s not even important,” Hailey tilts her head. “It’s all about the vibe, y’know?”

“I guess, but more importantly, why do you know when my birthday is? Did you stalk me or something?” The shorter girl’s unabashed nod makes Cam pause. “I’d have to imagine that’s a lot weirder than anything I do.”

“I guess we’re both weird, then,” Hailey concedes. “But I had a good reason, I promise.”

Cam raises an eyebrow. “And what was it?”

“Because you’re sexy,” Hailey deadpans, laughing maniacally when Cam turns bright red. “No, for real though, I just needed to find out more about my future best friend.”

“So we’re best friends now?”

“We will be for this tournament, at least.” Hailey says confidently. It’s a statement, an assurance, not a question, and Cam is suddenly jealous of how easily the words come out.

“I’d like that,” she admits, her voice a little quieter than before.

“And I’m gonna figure you out,” Hailey says almost to herself.

Cam laughs self-consciously. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hailey says nonchalantly. She pulls out her AirPods and offers one to Cam. “We can listen to whatever you want.”

The younger girl’s hand stills abruptly. “If I take this, will you tell me what you meant?”

“Fineee,” Hailey drags out the word. “I just don’t get you. You talk to me fine — talk back to me, even — but I don’t think I’ve seen you have a real conversation with even three other people on this team.”

“That’s not true,” Cam protests.

“Who, then?”

“Well, there’s Azzi-“ Hailey rolls her eyes, “-and Paige, I guess? Maybe Hayley?” Cam lowers her gaze in defeat. She plucks the AirPod from Hailey’s outstretched hand. “Fine, I get it.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Hailey makes sure her genuineness comes across. “Just, why me?”

Cam shrugs noncommittally. “It’s just hard sometimes, I guess? Plus, you won’t leave me alone- I don’t mind though,” she’s quick to add. “It’s a little easier with you, somehow.”

Hailey hums, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Wordlessly, she hands Cam her unlocked phone with all her downloaded songs.

They listen in silence for a while before Hailey taps Cam’s shoulder yet again. “Sorry, I can’t sleep,” she sighs. “Who knew that flights over ten hours would be so uncomfortable?”

��Me, actually. I lived in Amsterdam for three years and going back and forth was terrible,” Cam says shyly.

“Wait, are you serious? Tell me everything!” Hailey knows she probably sounds unreasonably excited, but she’s determined to learn everything that she can about Cam.

The taller girl recounts her favourite moments, and the conversation jumps from there, somehow getting to how Hailey got her seatmate (Hayley, the irony isn’t lost on either of them) to go sit with Paige’s seatmate (Fran) so that her and Paige could then end up next to Cam and Azzi respectively. She takes credit for remembering that Hayley and Fran are both committed to Stanford, and Cam giggles while giving her a round of applause.

When they both start to drift off, Cam lets Hailey settle on her shoulder, and it feels like the start of something. The younger girl doesn’t realize it, but since she and Hailey sat down, she hasn’t missed her parents at all.

[doodler16]

Sorry if this post feels a bit conjoined but it's a thought that's been on my mind for a minute.

Cw for abuse discussion.

Vivziepop has said before (not sure where specifically) that she's not afraid to kill off characters but what are those characters in question?

The only major character deaths in the hell verse I can think of is both Pen and adam. However the former gets reincarnated back to heaven and a ladder just dies despite being a human. It makes me wonder she says that because most of the characters are already dead in a sentence this is a story about the afterlife.

Then on the other side of the spectrum you get characters like stella, crimson, and valentino. A trio of characters who's entire character trait is to basically just be around to abuse their specific victims. This is despite the fact that many of the victimized characters have means to fight back or just straight up end their abusers life.

(more specifically stolas and the imps. I know Angel's under contract But if plot armor wasn't a factor I'd feel like he'd get Charlie's help.)

Honestly it makes me think back to the dire gentleman's video I watched again recently and it made me think

"why can't they simply take out their abusers, it's hell."

Tldr: where is the so-called fearlessness to kill characters and why isn't it done on the shitty abuser villains. You ain't Araki VP.

That’s the funny part. In Hazbin Hotel, Vivziepop has “killed” off Sir Pentious and Adam. In Helluva Boss, the writer Adam killed off Chaz. That’s literally it so far. I believe what Vivziepop means is she is not afraid to permanently kill off a character (I will see it when I believe it, at best a character gets mildly injured and that’s it).

My personal theory of why she hasn’t killed off the abusers because their “arcs” aren’t done and would be too easy. You mentioned Valentino, Stella, and Crimson. For example, Valentino there are still things we don’t know about (besides him being an artist and rapist), like his connection with Angel Dust, how they met, how did he meet Velvette and Vox, how did Valentino die as a human, etc.

For Crimson, I would live if Millie killed him off and he was a one off character. He is so forgettable, but I’m sure Vivziepop has plans for him. I’ve been seeing theories that he’s going to do something to Moxxie and Millie’s future/potential kid. This could lead to actual face off between Moxxie/Millie and Crimson. Getting closure, etc. Ozzie could get revenge on Crimson for kidnapping Fizzarolli.

And Stella! I don’t know what the future will look for her and it’s hard to tell what Vivziepop will do with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stella ended up homeless and kicked out of her mansion by Octavia or Stella somehow gets a restraining order from Stolas. Vivziepop mentioned in an interview that Stella has a Beatrice backstory for season 3.

[lolitastories]

Soldier

Bucky Barnes

“There you are!” I raise my head to a certain redhead. She had a bright smile as she rushed over to sit beside me. “Look!” My eyes widened as I looked at the picture on her screen. She has always been able to read my mind so when I tried to speak, she already knew what I was going to ask. “It was part of some article about Steve.”

“God,” I groan.  I pull the phone closer and zoom in on only Bucky. “He was such a precious baby. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” I couldn’t help but feel giddy just by saying his name.

“Does the cigarette do anything for you?” I look at her with furrowed brows. “I know you say you hate men or people in general who smoke but don’t lie-” She wiggles her brows giving me a playful shove. “You think he looks more than cute,” I roll my eyes pushing myself out the couch before I confess something I shouldn’t. As I walk towards the kitchen to prepare a drink, she turns herself over to lean against the couch. “Your knees would be weakened by his sole presence. You would flutter your eyes as he would speak to you in that 1940’s Brooklyn accent.” I look at her through my lashes as I shake my head. “Then he would invite you to a date at the fair, holding hands, eating ice cream and like a gentleman he would walk you home,” I looked up seeing how her big grin grew even bigger. She takes a pause before spitting out her next words. “Then fuck you into oblivion” I gasped reaching over to grab a single grape and throw it at her.

“Shut up Nat!” Of course, she smoothly avoided my deadly grape and continued to laugh.

“You can’t tell a lie! I can see right through you.” I roll my eyes, ignoring her completely.  I grabbed the bowl of grapes and started washing them. “He hasn’t dated anyone yet.” I was focused on washing the grapes, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have an ear out to what she was saying. “There are girls who would love to date like in the 1940s. But do you think Bucky would adapt or stay the same?” I set the bowl on the counter and begin drying the grapes. My eyes still look down as I do the task as I begin to think about her question. “It would be hard to break a habit since for him it's only been a couple of years.”

“A major part of a relationship is compromising. I think when he chooses to date again the girl, he picks will be open to those kinds of dates.” Who wouldn’t? “Plus, you can never go wrong with a fair date.”

“Got a fair date?” I stupidly look up. My first thought was how easy it was for Nat to change her voice to a deeper tone but then I look over to find Bucky walking into the room. “Didn’t pick you for those kinds of things” It stung a little to hear those words from him. I gave him a little smile but that was the only thing my body allowed me to do.

“She might not seem like it, but she likes all that lovey Dovey stuff.” Thank God for Nat. “She loves too many rom-coms and that's the reason why she doesn’t have a favorite movie.” I looked up trying to give her a look that said, “Thank you for making it less awkward but you don’t need to continue!” “She hates big crowds, but you will see her smile at every person who passes by. She’s a sucker for romantic gestures and loves flowers!” She exaggerates as she opens her hands wide, because it was true, I do love flowers. “I know women nowadays say that flowers are just a waste of money, and she will agree,” I looked down at the fresh clean grapes as I felt both Bucky and eyes on me. “But I also know she’s a sucker for any bouquet. She romanticizes everything! The fair is her favorite ambiance which I was shocked to find out because the air is filled with the thing she hates most-”

“Cigarette smell.” I look up hearing Bucky instantly respond.

“Yeah!” Nat points out but at that moment as she continues to ramble on, Bucky and I are looking at each other. “She loves the lights, the adrenaline from the rides!”

“So, you got a date?” He whispers, raising one brow. I look over smiling at Nat who continues talking but simply shakes my head.

“She hates all that deep fried stuff, so she never eats there, which I tell her she is definitely missing out on.” I watch as Bucky opens his mouth but restrains himself when we notice Nat now standing on the other side of the island.

“Care for a drink?” Bucky nods. I grab a glass and place ice on it before pouring his choice of alcohol. “Nat.”

“Hmm?” She says a little distracted. “It's 2.” I turn to her with the finished drink in my hand and wait for her to catch on.

“Shit is it really?” She grabs Bucky's arm and pulls it closer to see the time in his watch. “Got to go!” She smiles before waving goodbye and running out of the room.

“You would think she would be always on time since she is an agent and everything” I laugh walking over to hand him his drink.

“In her defense the problems you guys deal with don’t have a certain schedule,” He nods agreeing while taking a drink. “Plus, she was stalling because she’s the one going on a date.” He looks over shocked. I smiled as I grabbed the bowl of grapes and started walking over to the couch. “Now you will be more surprised to know Bruce built up the nerve to ask her.”

“Bruce?” He asked. Which I turn my head from the couch and nod. “Good for him.” He took another drink before he started walking over to me. “So,” I untangle my legs and plant my feet on the ground to let him sit beside me.

“Yeah?” Bucky and I became friends over the years. Hanging out with Nat allowed me to enter the avengers inner circle. We got stuck together while watching a movie and spent the night whispering to each other. Since the end of that night we started getting closer and closer.

“I got you this.” I looked down as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little trinket. I place the bowl on the coffee table before grabbing it from his hand. “If I knew how much you liked rom-coms I would have chosen La Vie En Rose,” I bit my lip holding back a chuckle. One time Sam and Bucky came back from a mission, and he was bragging about a little trinket someone had given him, and I mentioned I liked it. Months later on the next mission and the ones following that, he always came back with something in hand.

“You can get it for me next time,” I joke. I opened up the small little music box and turned the handle. “This one is perfect, thank you.” I look up to find a smile on his face as well. We burst out laughing as the Pirate of the Caribbean song started playing. “Yeah, this one is perfect.” I look back over to him but then my eyes fall towards our hands. I didn’t notice when it happened, but he was holding my hand in between his own. I flinched to pull away but froze when he lifted my hand and pulled it closer to his chest.

“So, you don’t have a date?” I couldn’t tell you how fast I looked up to search his face, but his eyes were plastered to our hands. I felt his thumb gently trace over my palm.

“No,” I let out with a shaky breath.

“Would you like to go on a date?” He said it so unfazed I thought he was joking but when he finally looks up his eyes are full of wonder. His brows raised up just a bit waiting on my answer. “We can go to the fair.” His tone was low. “You-”

“Yes,” It was like a last breath of air I let out. I didn’t want him to change his mind. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay.” He nods nervously as he lets out a chuckle. “I will apologies in advance because I will come off as old school- like old old school-” I laugh, removing my hand and grabbing his face.

“Good for you then, I have a thing for old school romance,” He laughs as he places his hand over mine. “Even if it's old, old school.”

“Yeah?” He says a little teasingly.

“Yeah.” I fix my posture. “I think it's hot.” I felt my nervous calming down and we were back to joking with each other. “People call it daddy issues but, in your case, would it be grandfather issues?”

“Seems like either way you have a problem.” I opened my mouth, acting offended.

“Says the one going on a date with someone who is 82 years younger than them.” He raises his finger with a smile

“Technically 8 years.” I raise my finger challenging him

“Technically you are 106 years old. so do some math, grandpa.”

“Oh, wrong choice of word!” We make some distance between us when we hear Sam walking into the room. “Last time I called him that he threatened to disappear me,” I looked over to Bucky who was giving him a death glare. “And that is the nice way to put it because I don’t want to bore you with the details, it was graphic” I laugh not believing Bucky would do such a thing. “So, what are you going to tell her, huh?” He grinned leaning against the island. Bucky turns over slowly, giving me a wink and that blows my breath away.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He whispered low enough for only us to hear. I held back my urge to smile even bigger, but I didn’t know it was possible. He patted my hands before standing up.

“What?” Sams shrieks raising his hands in disbelief. “Wait.” Bucky stops in the middle of the room and places his hands in his front pockets. “You are just going to let her off the hook. No warning or threats? How is that fair?” Bucky takes long and short strides over towards Sam. I could see the life drain from Sam's body; I can imagine how intimidating Bucky must look.

“Because it's her.” He pointed out plain and simple.

“But I'm me?” He smiles, proud of himself.

“Not even close.” Sam slaps his chest playfully, taking offense to his words. “Plus, she’s pretty.” With a simple shrug he turns around and walks out of the room.

“Don’t you dare start blushing!” I looked up stunned knowing blushing was an understatement. I was totally red like a tomato.  “You don’t even know his favorite color!” He grabs his newly fixed drink and starts walking away. “Pretty? I am prettier, Bucky!” He walks out screaming behind Bucky. I don’t think I could laugh any longer. My mind was preoccupied with a certain person. Did he say tonight? Shit. I am going on a date with Bucky tonight.

“I got just the thing for you to wear.” Thank God I am not an agent because the many times I haven’t noticed someone walk in would be concerning.

“You're an angel” I rush over to Nat.

“I knew it would get Bucky’s mind running when he heard you might be going on a date. Now let's get you ready for your soldier!” Mine. Baby steps, but I can feel it deep down that this won’t be our last date.

"Wait," I stopped in my tracks turning over to her. "What happened to your date with Bruce?" She smiles towards the floor.

"I got to excite and thought it was today. When I walked into his lab, I felt stupid and ran away." Of course she did. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

"Okay well since you are helping me out tonight, I will help you out tomorrow, deal?"

"Deal."

[nnmmxnxmxmx]

my long thoughts on this shit take of a reddit post, going basically line by line, as a previous inniter and a dream hater:

1. If dream was just expressing confusion on double standard rules i would understand, no it’s not fair (as much as i hate him) that he’s getting called slurs online- the issue is he seems to never address this, if this is something he dislikes why hasn’t he decided to quote tweet these posts he’s talking about? instead he attacks Tommyinnit fans because they… don’t like a trumpie okay weird choice.

2. further more- if Dream understands the hurt from using slurs without caution/ as an insult, surely that would have crossed his mind before posting? surely it would have an impact on his actions? i’m not doubting he’s felt hurt by being called rude names online, but if it’s actually something he takes a moral stance against i can’t fathom why he would decide to use them in retaliation.

3. “Obviously it's the internet being disingenuous, but that doesn't completely invalidate anyone that might be upset by it.” honestly asking here if anyone can explain what he means by this? cant work it out

4. Again, this post would be fine if dream was just expressing discomfort at being called slurs online- if he was actually involved in the drama before inserting himself and Tommys fans had been attacking him with derogatory language this would make sense. But Dream is the one who decided to call a group of millions the R slur, and as much as he’s trying to argue he’s autistic and therefor thought it was okay i just don’t buy that. He’s trying to paint himself as a victim of circumstance- “people called me a rude name, and because i’m apart of the group that name targets i thought i could use it back” but that’s not how “reclaiming” works. You’re just firing back with the same hateful language that you claim to know what it feels like to be hurt by.

5. “internet police” is interesting when Dream is the one getting involved in other people’s drama

6. Additionally, calling tommy “poor tommy” just feels mean- he’s trying to prop himself up as a victim and Tommy as someone who manipulates himself into being perceived as one. But this doesn’t make sense because even during peak dsmp no one got more shit that Tommyinnit- he was getting cancelled every week! There’s never been a time on the internet where people have perceived him as someone to treat with Kid gloves

7. Also adding the “lmao” on the end of seeing he never meant to be ableist feels very inauthentic, hard to believe someone feels remorse for fucking up when they are actively laughing at the idea that they fucked up

8. As a previous Tommyinnit stan- and someone who currently enjoys his tweets on my tl from time to time i KNOW we were, and i’m sure some still are, annoying. Tommy stans had poor standards when it came to boundaries and would harass streamers about Tommy constantly. That said, having your defence of calling a whole group of people the R slur being that.. they were annoying? that’s strange.

9. i just don’t care that Tommyinnit is promoting stand up while bullying bad people. sorry.

10. Last line is probably the scariest in it’s implications, i made a post before but it really feels like this is a gateway into some semi alt-right shit making its way into Dreams community. The seeds are there with him talking about how unreasonable twitter is, and lamenting how they are taking his joke too seriously. Just saying if we see a Kick deal in the future i wouldn’t be suprised

[jone-slugger]

Wrote this for @voyagerweek! It's my favorite episode, Scientific Method :) You can also read it on AO3

A Vulcan Friendship

When she rings the chime to his quarters, Kathryn is uncharacteristically nervous. She shouldn’t be: this is Tuvok, after all. Her trusted advisor; her oldest friend on her ship; her Security chief, with thirteen department heads reporting to him. She cringes at her own words. They resound in her head as if she was saying them at that precise moment, angry, demanding. Crazed.

They haven’t really had the chance to talk about it. Sorting everything out and supervising the recovery of her crew has been her top priority.  

But she still remembers his words in her ready room when she told him she’d go to renaissance Tuscany to rest. I will join you for a glass of wine.

Of course, she hasn’t had time to go spend time in the holodeck. She isn’t even sure if he was serious in his offer of company.

Vulcans aren’t supposed to lie.

So she tells herself, and so she hopes, for she wouldn’t want anything to ruin her finest friendship aboard. Not even those aliens.

Tuvok appears at the other side of the door to his quarters, the purple lights illuminating half his face, his expression emotionless, as always.

She smiles.

“May I come in?”

“Of course, Captain”.

She follows him to his couch and sees the incense still burning on his table. It seems this experience has left everyone rattled. Even stoic Tuvok.

“Is there anything I can assist you with?” he asks, dutiful as ever. He doesn’t seem angry at her outburst in her ready room.

Vulcans aren’t supposed to feel.

That’s what her mind provides, but even she knows that’s not strictly true. They might not show emotions, or be governed by them, but Vulcans definitely feel. For a second, she wishes he were a Klingon. At least with them one could always know if something had offended them.

“I think I owe you a glass of wine in renaissance Siena?” there is a questioning tone in her suggestion, as if she were afraid of simply stating it—afraid that he might consider it an order, and not what it is: an attempt at mending anything that might have been broken during the silent alien invasion.

His eyebrow rises ever so slightly, as if wondering about her true motives.

“I merely suggested it, but it was not meant to be an obligation, Captain”.

“It’s no obligation. It’s an invitation. If you’d like to join me, I would be happy”. And grateful. And relieved.

“It would be an acceptable use of my time”, Tuvok agrees and a smile lightens up her face.

“Great! I’ll book a couple of hours on the holodeck”.

“I shall join you then”.

Kathryn nods, satisfied. There is not much else to discuss—not there, anyway. Thus, she walks out of his quarters, satisfied. Happier. Lighter.

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

Renaissance Siena is as beautiful as Kathryn remembers, and the inn she has been wanting to try for weeks does not disappoint. Tuvok joins her as soon as she calls for him, dressed in clothes of the era, and his characteristic neutral expression.

Wine soon starts flowing.

He drinks as much as her, but Vulcan physiology is stronger. She is tipsy faster than she thought she’d be. Maybe it’s time to stop drinking before she regrets it.

Or maybe she could have one more glass.

It’s the sweet, cozy haze of alcohol what makes her finally open up and tell him everything she’s been meaning to. Not that she couldn’t do it without the alcohol. But it definitely helps.

“Tuvok, I treated you quite badly th-the other day”, her words slur just a little, enough for him to close the bottle with a cork and give it to a waiter that walks behind her.

“You were being the subject of cruel experimentation, Captain. You were not yourself”.

“I feel miserable thinkinggg just how bad I treated you”.

“As I said, it was not your fault. I do not blame you for it”.

“Still. You didn’t deserve it. I knew better than that”. She tries to hug him, but he retreats, not completely comfortable with the display of tactile comfort.

He offers a hand, instead.

She squeezes it immediately, holding on to it like a lifeline. It is quite an important gesture for a Vulcan. Her friend. With his hand, he is wordlessly telling her that he is not angry, that she shouldn’t be too hard on herself, that this time she shouldn’t allow guilt to consume her. That everything is okay between the two of them.

“I’m rrrr-really sorry that I snapped at you”, she finally lands in her apology. “I hope you can forgive me. It was unprofessional of a cap'n.”

“There is nothing to forgive. And, as such, you should not concern yourself about it anymore”.

Tuvok stands up, and helps her follow suit.

“I believe you are quite intoxicated, Captain. I shall accompany you to your quarters”.

The suggestion seems acceptable, so she leans into his arm and allows him to lead the way.

“Tuvok… you’re my best friend”.

“I, too, share your sentiment, Captain”.

The hangover tomorrow is certainly going to be monumental, but today, at that very moment, Kathryn feels at peace.          

[blue-eli]

Ink October day 16: Cryonics

The cryopreservation of a person with medical needs that cannot be met by available medicine until resuscitation and healing by future medicine is possible.

[skinreflectsthesun]

.

[mollyrolls]

highlights from my notes app. 30/79 and i couldn’t even finish the last chapter

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ AKAASHI KEIJI

undone ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

she would do anything for her best friend. including, but not limited to, pretending to be his girlfriend, so he can get the attention of the girl of his dreams, as much as it hurts

PAIRING: akaashi x fem reader

STATUS: complete

TAGS/WARNING: unrequited love, fake dating, angst, pining, friends to lovers, university au, language, alcohol use, warnings may change

MDNI: will contain adult content (marked in chapter)

TAGLIST: complete this form to be added

PREVIEW: real

CHAPTER ONE: evidence

CHAPTER TWO: complications

CHAPTER THREE: close

CHAPTER FOUR: truths

CHAPTER FIVE: plans

CHAPTER SIX: act

-> SEQUEL

[seddair]

‘

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

next

[heartswithinreach]

Sitting on LaDS lap

Xavier

Physical contact is nothing new for you two. You trust Xavier with your life on the battlefield and when you're fighting the evening commute.

The train is packed on your way home after fighting Wanderers all day but Xavier doesn't notice until he sits down and realizes the person sitting next to him isn't his partner.

But before he can give up his seat for you, you're sitting across his lap and resting your head on his shoulder. He watches you settle, amused and flustered by your boldness to do something like this in public.

"I don't think this is allowed for safety." He says gently, not wanting to wake you. "But if you're that tired..."

Xavier holds you close, making sure you don't fall off his lap from the movement of the train, and peacefully dozes with you until you're home.

Rafayel

“You’re supposed to be my bodyguard — why aren’t I sitting on your lap?”

Rafayel pouts mostly for show and so he doesn’t come across as too eager. He’s barely holding back from squeezing you in a tight hug, he didn’t expect you to be so soft.

But he also didn’t expect what he said would make you self conscious. Rafayel quickly pulls you back down when you try to get off of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, making sure you stay put.

“Relax, cutie. I was just joking. You can stay for as long as you want.”

But he will expect you to return the favor whenever he wants in the future. Especially if it’s at an event and he wants to rub your relationship in other peoples’ faces.

Zayne

His reaction depends on where you are and what the situation is.

If you sit on his lap while waiting to be seated at a restaurant, he’ll be unimpressed by the PDA but allow it so you’re both not sore from standing.

In the privacy of his or your apartment, you’re welcome to do whatever you like.

Every time you come near him in the early evening while he’s reading a book, he secretly hopes you’ll curl up on his lap. Your warmth is just the balm he needs after his shift at the hospital.

Zayne always worries about his evol in the back of his mind. What if his body temperature is too low and being so close is unpleasant for you? The only thing that’ll stop him from fretting and relax is if you play with his hair.

Sylus

Your ass hasn’t touched an actual chair in this man’s presence since you made your relationship official.

The first time you tried, he stopped reading his intel to ask, “What are you doing all the way over there, sweetie?” and patted his thigh. It couldn’t have been more obvious what he wanted.

Won’t stand for any “I’m too heavy” nonsense. He’s genuinely offended when you say that. Have you seen his physique? He waits until you’ve decided to give it a shot and then he's manhandling you onto his lap.

Pavlov dogs you into this routine until one day you just sit on his lap, completely unprompted, and he gives you the most infuriating, self-satisfied grin when you realize what you’ve done.

He’s won this small victory and he won’t let you forget it.