#wrecked fic

[uchiwife]

Lately, I've been trying to work on chapter 5 of "wrecked". I hope the end result will be like or close to what I had in mind. I'm looking forward to writing and finishing it so I can share it with you.🩷

[iwudbutnah]

Glad Cecily and reader made up and Cecily admitted why she was such a bitch to reader. Sucks to be rejected but now she knows how reader has felt her whole life. And it seems as though she may have found herself a pack and mates. I’m so mad at Frank. What an ass he’s so hellbent on revenge he would leave the reader when she needs him most and I guess mating went out the window. What a complete ass. Jordan and Robbie are the sweetest and I’m glad reader has them in her like in both capacities as workers and friends.

Wrecked (Part 6)

Pairing: Alpha Frank Castle x Omega Reader, Alpha Billy Russo x Omega Reader

Trigger Warnings: References to infertility, love triangle, excessive drinking

Summary: When Frank Castle found his way to your small town bar, you thought you had finally found your Alpha despite being a "wrecked omega" but when his best friend, Billy Russo, blows through town, your world tilts on its axis. You thought you found your happy ending but was it just more wreckage for your life?

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader and hype princess, @whisperlullaby

Wrecked Masterlist

“A delivery. It’s for you,” you look at him curiously.

“Can’t be,” Frank stalks toward you.

“Frank Castle,” you say softly, turning the envelope around for him to see. 

“Let me see that,” Frank rips open the envelope and pulls out a sheet of paper. As he unfolds it, you look over his shoulder at the printed sheet. It shows a blog post about a club opening, the picture has several people toasting with champagne. You read the two words written on the sheet of paper, “He’s back?”

Frank stares at the paper in his hand and goes chillingly still. You can feel the tension rolling off of him. Looking at the paper, you see it places the mysterious “he” in New York. “Frank?” You say his name.

His hand clenches, crumpling the sheet of paper, and he growls, “I have to go.”

“Go?” You ask in a panic, “Go where? What is this about? Who is he?”

He turns to you and his face is a mask of calm despite the rage emanating from his body, “That’s the man that killed my family.” He points to one of the men. 

“I- I thought that was a car accident,” you question.

“He was the drunk that hit them.”

“He got out of jail?” You wonder. 

“Never went. His dad managed to make all it go away and then made him disappear,” Frank stares at the picture. 

“Now, he’s back,” you say quietly, almost to yourself. 

“I have to go,” he repeats. 

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“Get justice.”

“Justice or revenge?” You pause, waiting for him to answer but he remains stoic. “What about my heat?”

“What about it?”

“It’s going to hit any day now. You said you’d help me through it.”

“You’ve made it through heat without an Alpha before. You’ll be fine,” he says quietly, not quite meeting your eyes. 

“And mating me? Was it all a lie?” You are surprised at how calm you are. 

“No, I would have,” Frank assures. 

“But not now,” you look at him for a long moment. “Were you going to let me mark you?”

Instinctively, his hand went to the faded mark on his neck as if he was protecting it. That was all the answer you needed. 

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will you be back?”

He glances away for a second and then back with a defeated look. 

“I’ll make this easy, Frank. If you can’t tell me, right now, that you’ll be back , don’t come back at all.” Your stomach rolled at the thought but you stood your ground. 

“Babe-”

“Don’t babe me,” you seeth.

“Omega-”

“Don’t you dare! Go!” You yell, startling yourself. Anger that he would attempt to use your designation had your voice raising without a thought. The realization that you were right all along settled heavily on your shoulders. He never loved you. Who could love a wrecked Omega?

Grabbing your keys, you leave the house. You just can’t watch him gather his few belongings and walk out of your life. You drive aimlessly. By the time you take notice of your surroundings, you realize you’re in Cecily’s neighborhood. You had driven there on autopilot to the only person who had ever given a damn about you. Now, the words of your fight reverberated in your head, “No one wants you! No one will ever really love you!” She was right. Maybe your father should have put you down like she said. Tears well as the reality hits you, you truly have no one. Not a single person you could go to, no one to pour your heart out to. You were alone. 

Turning the car around, you head to your bar. Tears streamed down your face as you berated yourself for hoping that someone could ever really love the wrecked omega. The sight of the bar as you arrived brought you no solace. No one wanted you there either. You were simply put up with because you owned it. 

Staring through your windshield you laid your head back against the headrest and just let the tears flow. You tried not to think, to just be but images popped in your head unbidden. Memories of the constant reminders your family doled out about your brokenness, of your time with Frank, your fight with Cecily, all of it flooded in and you found yourself sobbing. You cried harder than you had in years, letting it all out until there were no more tears. Your eyes were puffy and swollen. You wiped your face as best as you could and went into the bar. You grabbed some ice and a towel and sequestered yourself in the office. You laid the cool cloth across your face to relieve some of the swelling. 

“Boss? That you?” Jordan’s voice calls as he enters the office. 

You sit up quickly, trying to discreetly remove the towel. “Yeah, its me,” your voice is raspy from crying and you concentrate on some of the paperwork in front of you trying to avoid him seeing your distress. 

“Uh… you okay?” Jordan hedges. 

“Fine. Just trying to catch up. What’s up?” You try to dodge. 

“Nothing really. I thought I’d check up on you. You’ve been here a lot this week,” he leaves the statement open ended. 

“Is that a problem? It’s my bar,” you bristle even as you feel tears sting again. 

“Of course not. You’ve also been stressed and a little snippy. I thought something might be going on,” Jordan replies calmly. 

Putting your face in your hand you take a deep breath. 

“Hey, everything okay?” Robbie’s voice comes from behind you. 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Jordan waits patiently for you to answer. 

You take another deep breath and blink back the tears. You turn around to face them, sure you look like a wreck but what did it matter? You were just their boss and landlord. You didn’t mean anything to them. 

“What happened?” Robbie says as he moves toward you. 

“Who do I need to kill?” Jordan says, clenching his fist. 

You scoff laughingly and look up at him, “That would be Frank.”

“Okay, that could prove problematic,” Jordan hedges comically. 

“What did he do?” Robbie pushes. 

“He’s leaving. I knew it would happen eventually. It was just kinda sudden,” your voice breaks and you look away. 

“Why do you say that? That you knew he’d leave?” Robbie asks. 

You clear your throat before giving him a disbelieving look, “That’s sweet, Robbie, but we both know no one wants a wrecked Omega. If it wasn’t for the bar, I’d probably have been run out of town.”

Robbie looks at Jordan with confusion. 

“You’re not wrecked,” Jordan insists before turning to Robbie, “She’s uh…”

You see him struggling for the words to explain and jump in, “Infertile. Unable to reproduce. A fake Omega. Wrecked. Can never have children. A waste of an Omega designation. A-”

“Okay! Okay, I get it,” Robbie stops you before you build to another meltdown. “I’m sorry that you’ve been made to feel that way. You’re a good woman. You don’t deserve it.”

“Good woman, bad Omega,” you nod. 

“An Omega with a disability. You shouldn’t hold it against yourself any more than a diabetic or a person in a wheelchair. It’s just one small part of you. Try to be a little kinder to yourself”

You nod, “Thanks, Robbie. I appreciate you saying that.”

“Easier said than done, right?” Robbie says with chagrin. 

You give him a small smile, “Anyway, nothing for you guys to worry about. I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t I call Cecily to come get you? We can handle everything tonight,” Jordan offers. 

“Um… Cecily and I had a fight. We’re not really talking right now.”

“What happened there?” Jordan asks. 

“She was upset that Frank’s friend Billy rejected her and lashed out. We said some pretty harsh things. If I went to her, she’d probably just crow that she was right about Frank,” you shrug but your lips tremble.

“I don’t think she would. You two have been friends for a long time,” Jordan crouches down next to you. 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” you say dismissively, scared you might break down again. 

“You’re our friend, we will worry,” Robbie says, crouching next to Jordan.

“Look, why don’t you go up to the apartment and try to relax? I’ll go grab some food for you and we can cover the bar tonight. You’ll only be a few stairs away if needed,” Jordan says. 

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll get myself together before opening,” you demure. 

“You don’t have to always be so brave,” Jordan says softly, remembering the countless times you've handled situations with patrons.  “Let us take care of you for once. You’ve done it plenty of times for me.”

“Come on,” Robbie holds a hand out to you. “I’ll take you up and get you settled while Jordan gets the food.”

You look between the two, overwhelmed and grateful for their kindness. Nodding your head, you take Robbie’s hand and let him guide you upstairs. He settled you on the couch, got a pillow and blanket, put the tv remote within reach, and brought a charger for your phone. You smiled as he handed you a drink, “Thank you. I, um, I really appreciate this.”

“Is there anything else you think you’ll need?”

“No, thank you. How are you liking the town?” You attempt to shift his attention.

“It’s a change from LA,” Robbie laughs. “It’s nice, though. A quieter, slower kind of life here.”

“And you like it? Enough to become home for you?”

“Yeah, I mean, wherever Jordan is,” Robbie says, trying to be casual but you can see the tension in his shoulders. 

“I see. So, you and Jordan are together?” You ask to be certain. 

“Yeah, we’d like to find an omega, form a pack. I mean, I know it’s not the norm but…” he shrugs. 

“I think that’s awesome. Any Omega would be lucky to have you two.”

“Thanks. For, you know, being kind about it.”

“Of course. Was Jordan afraid to tell me?” You ask. 

“I think he was scared you’d think less of him as an Alpha or something. He asked me to bring it up to you,” Robbie's gaze begs for understanding. 

“Jordan’s a good man. I’d never think less of him. But, you, waiting until I’m all vulnerable and emotional to tell me. I mean…”

“No, that wasn’t, I didn’t mean, I wouldn’t-” Robbie stutters.

“I’m just messing with you, Robbie. Thank you for telling me. I hope you find your Omega,” you smile at him but it fades as the memories of the day trickle back in. 

Robbie kept you company until Jordan returned and the three of you ate together. They went down to the bar shortly after to get things ready for the night. You laid on the couch and did little else. Several times you picked your phone up wanting to call Frank or text Cecily, to reach out to someone, but each time you set it back down. You listened to the music that drifted from downstairs and eventually the hubbub from below lulled you to sleep. You ended up staying there for two more nights. You just couldn’t bring yourself to go back to the cabin and the guys were so gracious and caring towards you that you were loath to leave them. They’d become your source of comfort in all of this. 

But, you had to face it all. You knew you’d have to return to your empty cabin and try to move on, so you gathered your things and trounced down the stairs. You were about to turn toward the exit when a flash of movement near the bar caught your eye. Moving closer, you see Cecily sitting alone with a glass and a bottle of vodka. She poured herself a finger of the liquor and downed it. Setting your things down, you walk over to her. 

“Hi,” you say gently. 

“Hi,” she replies softly, not looking at you. She pours another drink and shoots it the same as she did the first. Licking her lips, she stares at the bottle before saying quietly, “He didn’t want me.”

“He-”

“Not Billy. I don’t mean Billy. Or Frank,” she cuts you off. “Owen. The Alpha my dad tried to pawn me off on. He didn’t want me.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot,” you say matter-of-factly as you sit next to her. 

“Damn right,” she says as she grabs another glass and pours you both a drink. 

“Cheers,” you say, clinking your glass to hers and throwing back the liquid. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so hurt and another rejection happening right then just set me off and I took it out on you and I’m so, so sorry,” Cecily’s voice breaks as she speaks. 

You put your arm around her, “Shhhh, it’s okay. I understand and I’m sorry, too. We both said some harsh things we didn’t mean. Anyway, you were right.”

“What do you mean?” She asks. 

“Frank left,” you grab the bottle and pour another shot for each of you.

“I’m sorry. He’s a fucking idiot, too,” she leans into you as you both drink. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened with Owen? I mean, I know he’s an idiot but what reason could he possibly give for turning you down?”

“My lineage,” she says bitterly. 

“Your what?” You say, shocked. 

“My lineage,” she pours again, “When he realized that both my parents are Betas, he and his family didn’t want the match anymore. They were worried I would only give him Betas or Omegas and they need an Alpha offspring. He’s the last of their line. His mother produced two Betas, three Omegas, and finally one perfect Alpha. So, they need a strong Alpha lineage behind his Omega.”

“So, he isn’t looking for a mate, he’s looking for a broodmare?” You ask, flabbergasted. 

“Exactly. Actually, the one before him… he…”

“No!” You exclaim, already understanding her implication. 

“My parents thought they won the lottery with me but it turns out that Beta-spawned Omegas are tainted,” Cecily shakes her head. 

“Wrecked and tainted. We are quite the pair,” you laugh humorlessly. 

“You’re not wrecked,” Cecily says vehemently. 

“You’re not tainted,” you reply in the same tone before you both dissolve into giggles. The next couple of hours are filled with laughter, tears, more apologies and forgiveness, and way too many shots. When Jordan and Robbie return from wherever they had been, they found the two of you laying on the floor with your heads together and legs propped up on chairs. 

“What in the hell are you two doing?” Jordan exclaims. He surveys the two glasses, an empty bottle laying on its side, and a half empty bottle on the bar as he hurries over. 

“We are commiserating on the stupidity of designations,” you slur. 

“I don’t know how she can still use words that big when we're this drunk,” Cecily says before she begins giggling uncontrollably. 

“I am not drunk, I am… no, no, you’re right. I am drunk. Holy shit, I haven’t been this drunk in forever,” you look at Cecily and you both start laughing. Jordan and Robbie look at each other and shake their heads. Jordan grabs your hand and helps you to stand, while Robbie does the same for Cecily. 

When Cecily is standing she takes a long look at Robbie before smiling, “Hiya, Handsome. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Oh! Cecily, this is Robbie,” you stumble over to him and put a hand on his chest. “He’s Jordan’s friend. Isn’t he cute?”

“Mm-hm, very cute. I mean, I’ve always thought Jordan was fine but, damn, now he’s bringing around fine ass friends. How am I supposed to control myself?” Cecily whispers loudly. 

“I’m their boss, I can't think like that,” you whisper back. 

“I’m not their boss,” Cecily says, excitedly. “I’m totally thinking like that.”

“You know we can hear you, right?” Jordan says after a minute. 

You both look at them in shock before dissolving into giggles once again. You lean on each other but neither of you are steady and both men jump to keep you from falling. Jordan puts your arm around his shoulders and guides you to the stairs. Robbie attempts to do the same with Cecily but she was less stable than you so he swept her into his arms. 

“You’ve swept me off my feet,” Cecily titters as she lays her head on Robbie’s shoulder. 

“What are we gonna do with you two?” Jordan shakes his head laughing. 

“Take us to bed?” Cecily slurs suggestively. 

“Oh my God, Cec, stop!” You laugh. 

“Don’t worry, princesa, I’m going to put you to bed,” Robbie teases. “With some food and water. And you’re going to sleep this off and then we can be introduced properly when you’ve sobered up.”

“I like him already,” Cecily breathes as she snuggles into him. 

“He’s a good guy. They both are,” you smile drunkenly. 

They get you both upstairs and into Jordan’s bed. Food, bottles of water, headache medicine and your phones are set on the nightstand. Cecily immediately cuddles up to you. Before you fall asleep, the guys insist you each drink a bottle of water to which you comply. Before more than a few minutes pass, you and Cecily are passed out. 

“I guess they made up,” Jordan cracks a smile as he and Robbie head back downstairs. 

“I guess so,” Robbie laughs. “So, uh, Cecily?”

“She’s always been a little wild, man. I’ve always had the hots for her but I never knew she found me attractive. But, I mean, she’s cool and all,” Jordan eyes Robbie suspiciously. 

Robbie smirks at him but changes the subject, “Let’s head downstairs. Looks like it’s just you and me tonight. Better prep.”

“Good point,” Jordan leads the way.

–

Early the next morning you wake with a headache. It had been quite a while since you had drank like that and your body was angry at the abuse. You tried to move as your bladder yelled at you to be relieved but Cecily was clinging to you like a koala. 

“Cec,” you try to push her off but she snuggles harder against you. “Come on, chick. I’m gonna pee the bed if I don’t go!”

Cecily groans but releases you. You shake your head as you move to the bathroom. Walking back afterwards, you see the medicine on the table and silently bless the guys for their forethought. You downed a bottle with a couple of the pills. Putting some of the water in your hand, you flick a few drops onto Cecily. 

“Mmph, jerk. Stahp,” she whines. 

“Take these,” you push some medicine and a water bottle into her hand. She throws them both back without opening her eyes and then turns over to bury her head in a pillow. Shrugging, you do the same. You cat nap for a while, trying to just relax but the events of the last two weeks float through your head as you do. You kick yourself for drinking so much yesterday. You felt weird. Your head hurt and your stomach, you even felt a little feverish. It wasn’t but an hour or so later that your body screamed for the toilet again. It was then that you realized what was happening. It wasn’t the hangover. At least, it wasn’t all the hangover. Your heat was starting. 

Quickly, you wake Cecily, “Hey. I have to go. I’m sorry. I’m going to get my things and head home. I’ll text you later.”

“What’s the matter?” She says groggily. 

“I’m pretty sure my heat is starting. I need to get home,” you explain. 

“Shit, okay,” she sits up, putting a hand to her head, “Ow. Text me when you get there. Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thanks, Cec,” you say. 

“I’m sorry,” she says sadly. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you shake your head.

“Going through heat without an Alpha sucks, though.”

“Can’t be helped. I’ll be okay. I’ve done it before,” you shrug. 

“Jordan would prob-”

“No! That’s a line I don’t want to cross,” you say firmly. 

“Okay, okay. I’m serious, let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” you say as you gather your things. You look back at her before you slip out of the room, “I’m glad you came yesterday. I’ve missed you.”

“I love you, too,” Cecily smiles before groaning and flopping back down on the bed. 

You managed to leave the apartment without waking the guys and head to your cabin. The closer you got, the sicker you felt. When it came into view, you realized your cheeks were wet. This was very different from how you thought this heat would pan out. Now, you have to get through it alone. Cecily was right. This was gonna suck. 

Part 7

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[holyghostin]

"...out of the damp earth and into the sun."

little drawing dedicated to the flawless fic by @mrghostrat and @chernozemm. if you haven't read it already and/or seen the beautiful artwork, find it here. 🤧

[umgeorge]

george russell does an admirable job of not strangling toto during fp1, italy - august 30, 2024

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

Shanks—Buggy blinked, not believing what he was seeing—pouted.  “Can’t I get a kiss goodbye?” If someone had told him even yesterday that Shanks would become such a baby the second he was shown the smallest bit of affection… “You know what?  Fine.”  A delighted expression bloomed on Shanks’ face as Buggy walked back to his side.  Buggy smiled, laid a loud, wet kiss dead-center on his forehead, and pulled back to watch his face crumple.

@midydoof is as much of a menace as buggy himself. how am i supposed to go about my daily life while this art exists??

this part has had a few lines of new dialogue added to one scene; i realized as i was doing my edits that i’d dropped the ball on one of the topics of conversation buggy wanted to discuss in an earlier chapter, and this was a tidy way to take care of that loose end.

for any new readers: this is part seven of eight of the long, post-marineford part of this shanks/buggy series! this part is about fifty-five hundred words, and sees us through the usual morning after problems that come with people like shanks (captain of the ship, sap) and buggy (clown, idiot).

[orbofrommyshows]

Something that I'm forever going to find funny about Turbo is the fact that he is (or at least was at the time of taking over Sugar Rush) very clearly an amateur programmer. The code box he made is just filled with disorganized spaghetti and I would be absolutely shocked if he documented anything lmao, so I keep imagining the utter hell of a time he'd had with it whenever he had to make a bug fix or something, because there's no way in hell that code didn't come with an entire dump truck worth of problems. Like, something in it breaks so he has to go back in and do the debugging to find out what went wrong and he's just combing through it going:

"wait what does that function do?"

"I should have picked better variable names, this thing is damn near unreadable."

"what kind of idiot wrote this- wait it's me… I'm the idiot…"

"okay I think I fixed the problem, let's see- I have created five new and interesting problems…"

[anna-scribbles]

what a shame, i can see it all now that we’re through

- firearm by lizzy mcalpine

(chapter 5 of call it even is making me feel bonkers insane. thank u @sha-nwa)

[janumun]

God, you guys have no idea what this hug has done for me. It has watered my crops, cleared my acne, jumped me in my bed while I slumbered unaware, took me by the throat, body slammed me against the wall and fucked up my insides like Sylus’ big, thick, un-lubed cock. But that’s alright because I love the pain.

Sylus fuc/kers, you can bet good money I am working on another Sylus fic, smut ofcourse, based on this card for the good of my heart, soul and 🐱 ✍🏽✍🏽

The fic is now out and it can be found here ♥️

[mrsackermannx]

chef!sukuna who’s still lower in the rank than he wants to be, but so close to being a sous. tonight is his night to do the night’s special dish, finally. he earned this. he knew that if the head chef just let him, he could create the best dish ever served at this damn place.

so, he does just that.

he’s immediately scolded, the dish uses too many ingredients, the head says. too much to prepare. too ambitious. even though he used all of the left over ingredients from the menu’s usuals. 0% waste, 0% additional cost.

sukuna curses, taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. “make sure no table gets that shit,” he hears, with his fists clenching at his sides. ill go to the gym after this, he thinks, yeah, punch the fuck out of that bag.

it turns out that only table 8 has the dish, your table. the server messed up and now they’re crying in the back to the porter because they’ve been fired on the spot. “i told you not to fucking take it! have you never done expo-“

sukuna stalks calmly to the shaking waiter, “show me table eight-“ he sighs, levelling the head chef with a glare, sukuna was much larger, much stronger than him, difference in rank or not. he stood down, stalking down the other side of the kitchen with a huff. “ignore him, i wanna see who’s eating my dish, come on, let’s go.”

a reassuring pat to the shoulder from sukuna was almost enough to make him cry even more. sukuna kind of hated everyone.

“just there, chef. the couple, bedside the pillar on the left…its um…her, chef.” he grins, watching how transfixed the normally gruff man is, “your girl heh heh.”

“shut up,” he says, but he smiles a little.

he watches you, sat opposite some guy you hardly look interested in, you’re beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, as always, his eyes are drawn to you, no other woman could compare.

he watches you slice through his dish, the fork at your lips, as soon as it reaches your mouth you make a noise of such rapture, a sudden quiet falls upon the floor of the restaurant.

it’s almost weird how heat rushes low at the sight and the sound, he can’t remember the last time anyone else fired him up like this. he never took himself to have any kind of food fetish, either. yet watching you eat his dishes always seems to be an erotic exchange he never anticipates.

“oh…him? think they’re married?”

“i don’t think so.”

that man seems to hiss at you, eyes on his watch, barely touching his dish. “i wanted pizza downtown, god.”

you shake your hand in dismissal, shoving another forkful in your mouth. “i wanted this, i always want this.”

sukuna let’s out a breathy fuck, and the server practically faints.

no one was immune to sukuna’s charm, then, it seemed.

“oh, fuck, table 7 saw me. fuck, chef ive already been fire-“

“go and give them a reason not to fire you. go, go to your table kid, it’s still yours, right?”

the table beside you seems to have called him over, asking for the same dish you seem to believe has came from heaven, telling anybody who asks.

sukuna can’t help but enjoy the lively affair, as the restaurant manager tries to explain over and over to more and more tables that the chef special has been cancelled. oh, how he loved this little bit of chaos.

“why?” your voice clatters through the cacophony like a piece of silverware on crockery. “this dish is phenomenal, the best ive ever eaten here and in this city, in this country-“

“miss-“

“taste it! can you not taste the hard work? the thought? its the best thing ive ever eaten. the chef who made this has impeccable taste and talent.”

your laughter rings through the place at your partners embarrassment. sukuna is about to pry himself away and head back into the kitchen, leaning on the side of the bar and then…your eyes meet, another forkful is waiting before those glossed lips. another sweet sound of joy rings through the air.

now you see him, huh?

your smile is sweeter than agave, “it’s you.”

your words are lost on everyone around you, but to sukuna he hears them as if you whispered them right against his ear.

sukuna was a tall, broad, and unquestionably handsome man, unmissable out of his chef whites, invisible in them, somehow. obscured by the ambient lighting of the restaurant.

you near him, like a moth to a flame, a sensual air to the way your hips flick toward him. “you-“

the head chef storms through to the restaurant floor, the door slamming you both into the corresponding wall. his large arms wrap around you, his hand cups the back of your head.

he slowly retracts his hand, and your chest rises as you resist the urge to press your cheekbone into his palm, “are you okay?”

his voice is deep and addicting, dark and dripping down your throat.

you’re beaming at him, like he’s an angel, like he’s somebody you already adore. he gifts you a lover’s laugh, “you seem to be the only satisfied person in the building tonight.”

“seems like you’ve satisfied me sir.” you wink, still letting his aura press you into the wall, he cages you in with his arms.

“oh?”

“last thursday. that soup, you made it, didn’t you…?”

“sukuna,” he answers for you, “maybe.”

“seafood special last month?”

“yes, and your name?”

for some reason he’s out of breath, you’re so close, so fancy in your silk dress, clad in jewellery that sparkles even under these dimmed lights. “reader, you…you’re a genius.”

“so you came to thank me personally?” he leans closer, swiping sauce from the corner of your lip. it lingers on his thumb, his eyes chase yours as he licks it. “how sweet of you.”

[starrforge]

Some >q> Nsfw comic im working on my patreon //COUGHS https://www.patreon.com/Starrforge

[overtake]

Trying to do something resembling coping after Singapore. Have some Max/Daniel hurt/comfort (1.3k). Also on ao3 if you prefer.

The press of a button freezes Max’s watery blue eyes, the space between them bifurcated by the crease in his forehead.

“Is now really a moment to remember?” Max asks in a raspy voice. His throat isn’t clogged by tears, but there’s almost a decades worth of race starts together sitting uncomfortably in there and congesting each word.

His hand hasn’t strayed from Daniel since he found him after the race. It’s somewhere on some part of him every time he’s close enough to touch.

Normally he’s halfway home by this point, Air Max somewhere over the circuit skies and headed back toward home.

He’s stayed, this time, in case this is it. In case this is his last chance to neatly fold Daniel’s clothes into his bag, even though his own are always wrinkled under pairs of stained shoes and dirty briefs. In case this is the last time they both exit the paddock as drivers. In case this is the final chance Max has to trace the shape of Daniel’s jawline and tell him, “Good race.”

Daniel’s mum is giving them a last minute alone. She’s standing guarding outside the door and leaving them be for now. Daniel knows, though, that when they stand, she’ll hug Daniel close, wishing he was little enough to hide in the crook of her neck while she covers all his gaping wounds with plasters and a kiss on each one to ease the ache. 

Despite his complaints about the camera, Max still moves from where he’s crouched in front of Daniel to collapse into his side and observe the photo. He wraps one arm around Daniel’s back to tug him impossibly closer and rests his mouth on the top of Daniel’s shoulder in an exhausted kind of kiss.

“I look like shit,” he says, statement muffled by the fabric of Daniel’s shirt. He sounds like he wants to poke fun at himself until he makes Daniel laugh, but they’re both too hollowed out to muster up the energy. Instead, Max reaches out and turns off the display.

For a second, their fingers linger together on the camera’s body, until Daniel lets the camera drop back against his chest so he can entangle their hands instead.

“It’s not a nice memory,” Daniel agrees. Unlike Max, his voice right now can all be attributed to tears. “But in December, no matter what happens after today, I’ll get a retake on the farm. I’ll be happy, and we’ll be together, and life will go on from now.”

Daniel feels the dampness on his shoulder when a single tear breaks containment, then another, and a shuddering breath, until Max rights himself and pointedly looks away from the tiny patch soaked in cotton.

“It’s not fair,” he says tightly. For a second, he sounds every bit the bullish teenager with a black and white view on the way the world ought to work and bitter frustration that sometimes reality dapples in nuance. It’s the first thing to get Daniel anywhere within city limits of smiling since he set the lap record and gave himself a final moment in the car to reflect on everything this sport had given him, and that he had given this sport.

“Yeah,” he agrees hoarsely. “It’s not fucking fair.”

He’s done with excuses and niceties and dancing on the Red Bull puppet strings in hopes that playing their game might finally net him a seat he’d killed himself to earn. It’s not fair. It’s callous and cruel, the way they’ve strung him and everyone who loves him along for a race they aren’t even brave enough to tell him is his last.

They’re silent for another moment. Daniel closes his eyes and soaks it in: the tendrils of freshly washed hair still trailing water down his spine. The din of dog-tired employees breaking down the paddock, to be quickly vanished away as if it was never here. The ragged in-and-out of Max’s lungs as he tries to coax both of their breaths into something resembling normal.

“Thank you, by the way,” Max says softly. “And congratulations on your lap record.”

“You owe me a really nice Christmas present.”

Max presses a whisper of a kiss over Daniel’s drying curls. “You always deserve the nicest presents.”

Daniel’s mum slips in then, gently shutting the door behind her. Unlike Max, she’s made no secret of her tears. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but she musters up enough of a smile when Daniel heaves himself up into her arms.

“Come here, Max,” he hears his mum scold. A second later, Max is in an awkward three-person hug. Grace’s short arms struggle to embrace them both, but smelling her vanilla perfume and knowing she’s there is enough to surround him in all the ways that matter.

She whispers in turn to each of them, but they’re all so tightly wound, they can all hear every word.

“Thank you for being here every time I couldn’t be,” she tells Max. He murmurs something back, but he manages to keep it quiet enough that Daniel can’t make out all his words. It’s something about thanking her for trusting him with Daniel, but the rest is lost. All he knows is that his mum’s tears start flowing again.

When it’s his turn, she can barely choke out the words. “I’m so proud of you. For your career, of course, but for who you’ve grown into. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“I love you,” is all Daniel manages. He buries the nose shaped like hers into the brown curls that his genes copy-pasted and soaks in gratitude that he has both her face and her endless capacity to love.

Daniel walks into humid night air with his head held high and a career most drivers would kill for, surrounded by people who love him for more than that list of achievements, and knows that he’ll survive whatever comes next.

“That’s a terrible photo,” Max complains three months later. His eyes are scrunched up all cute in it, framed by long lashes and sun-soaked freckles that are almost hidden by the streaks of dirt on his face. He’s smiling, both in the picture and right now, so Daniel knows he doesn’t actually mind.

Two weeks of busy Australian summer have left Max various shades of pink and tan. He'd somewhat learned how to use the grill that Daniel was too scared to touch and now had matching grill aprons with Daniel's dad. He christened the new baby cow the wholly uncreative name ‘Lilly’, because god forbid any animal in his vicinity not be named after Monaco nightlife. He’d also 100% taken to the dirt bikes as easily as everyone would assume and had absolutely, definitely not sworn Daniel to secrecy about where he got that giant bruise on his side after their first go.

When Daniel transfers the photos to his computer later, his finger pauses on the photo captured in a melancholic driver’s room. In it, Max’s eyes are dull and weary, but they’re looking at Daniel with the same unblinking love from today’s picture.

It’s proof, memorialized in expensive pixels, that Daniel’s life did not end on the streets of Singapore; that his worth to the world never depended on his points or podiums.

He closes the lid of his laptop and joins the gathering in the living room. Max is pouring fake tea for Isabella’s dolls. Isaac is politely sipping an empty teacup, one pinky in the air. Isabella is nowhere to be found, probably busy dragging Daniel’s poor parents to see Lilly the cow for the fifth time today.

“Daniel!” Max says, in the sweet, distinct way his mouth always forms the name. His face brightens when Daniel walks in. When Max smiles like that, it’s as if the sun has come through the roof and taken human form in broad shoulders and rumpled t-shirts.

“Max!” Daniel says back, matching his enthusiastic tone. He sits cross-legged in Isabella’s empty spot and slides his fingers between Max’s.

The tea party continues, and life moves forward.

[13atoms]

Airplane Mode (Spencer Reid x Reader)

A quick blurb about Spencer Reid and his SO finally getting a resort vacation! (Or holiday, because I’m a Brit and saying vacation feels weird). Insp by the slightly weird holiday I’m currently on lol | 1k fluff

Holidays were a bad omen for the BAU. Like complaining a night shift in a hospital is too quiet, or that it hasn’t rained in a while. Holidays meant something was bound to go wrong. So you’d waited until the very last minute to book the flights. Packed your suitcases two hours before leaving for the airport.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to be excited to go away, or even to tell many friends you’d be on holiday.

The louder you said it, the more likely it was that Spencer would be called into work, and the whole thing would fall to the wayside in a series of frantic phone calls. Ultimately, it would only mean Spencer felt awful, and guilty, and it would have been better if you’d never planned anything in the first place. It wasn’t his fault, you couldn’t resent him for it, people’s lives were at stake.

But you were so excited for a vacation.

Even in the airport, as Spencer passed through security with the lazy, efficient movements of a weary regular flier, you’d been waiting for his phone to ring. For it to all be over. You’d held his arm in the airport lounge, waiting for the gate announcement, not daring to speak a word in case the universe heard you and Spencer had to jump on a different plane before yours had even taken off. Then there would be the arguing with the airline. The money lost, the forms for it to be refunded by the FBI, your bags missing because they were already packed deep into the hold of the plane.

You had clutched your coffee cup, already feeling dread and exhaustion overtaking you.

Then the plane had taken off. You hadn’t quite believed it. Spencer put his phone on airplane mode, and showed it to you.

“We’ve made it,” he whispered, through a smile, “it would be in violation of the Federal Aviation Administration regulations to take a call from work now.”

You shoved your face into his neck, and let yourself begin to feel excited.

The resort was one recommended by a colleague of Spencer’s, boring and relaxing, adults’ only and pleasantly quiet. There was a time and a place for exploring and excitement, but truly the thought of Spencer spending a single week away from work felt like excitement enough.

In the taxi from the airport, when Spencer had turned his phone back on and not received summons from Gideon, you finally let yourself utter the words:

“I can’t believe we’re on holiday.”

“I know!”

Spencer was giddy, you could count on one hand the number of times you’d heard him giggle, and it was so wonderful you had to pull his hand into yours and squeeze it.

“I am so excited to do nothing,” he admitted, though you knew his e-reader contained a small library’s worth of books.

“I just want to eat good food, and spend time with you.”

“I think I’m going to turn my phone off,” he said abruptly, as though he’d only just had the thought he could.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Garcia knows where I am, if there’s a real emergency. That way I won’t feel like I have to check it all the time.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

He smiled at you, and you watched as he shot off a quick text to Penelope, before completely turning his phone off. For a moment there was silence, and you both waited, listening to the sound of rubber on tarmac and feeling the heat of the sun outside. Nothing happened. Of course it didn’t. The realisation made you burst out laughing at the same time as Spencer, and you caught a flash of the driver’s backwards glance in the rear view mirror.

“You know what, mine too!”

You turned your phone off in solidarity, and stacked it beside his on the middle seat.

“Swap?” Spencer asked, offering you his phone, but you shook your head.

“Straight into the safe, when we get to the hotel. They can stay there.”

“That’s an even better idea.”

You knew, if it came down to it, if a life was at risk, he’d get the message from the hotel reception and go back to Quantico. That was okay. It was part of who he was, he needed the BAU, as much as they needed him.

There was a chain of people between that decision being made and Spencer finding out, including Gideon and Penelope, who would do everything in that power not to ask him. And that felt good.

For the first day, you let yourselves do only what you wanted to, to explore, to lie in bed, to read. Spencer needed the reminders not to watch every little thing that happened, not to examine poolsides and restaurants like they were crime scenes, but soon that went away and the frown in his brow was smoothed.

He wore swim trunks. He tried sips of your cocktail while floating in a pool. He laughed, and cried at one of the books he read, and ate properly, and let himself spend hours lying against your body in bed.

When you left the hotel, you both forgot your phones, and had to pay the taxi driver to turn around and get them.

“We should just leave them,” you’d joked breathlessly, as the receptionist concealed exasperation and politely led you to the room you’d just checked out of.

“That would be pointless, I’d just have to buy another one –” Spencer was distracted, following the receptionist, working out whether you’d miss the plane in the worst possible scenario.

You could see the stress in him, as the taxi driver waited outside with your bags, his meter running.

“Not if we stay here forever,” you teased, and finally saw the fall of his shoulders, the smile lines appearing on his face.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

Spencer made it a whole 24 hours after landing without getting on another plane, and you considered it a small victory. When he called you on the jet you could almost see him, skin a little bit more tanned, his hair still a little curlier from the sun and the chlorine.

“You’d better bring a souvenir, jet setter,” you teased, and imagined Spencer wrinkling his nose before he replied.

“We’re going to Milwaukee.”

[stormbros]

I finally got beacon to refresh and rewatching the scene just made me want to applaud Robbie and Liam both. Ignoring the fact we watched Liam potentially set up the conversation earlier with Caleb, and watching Robbie continually try to initiate the scene (big group, it happens), just....the bittersweet conclusion to everything we've seen:

Dorian doesn't know what it is and maybe it's a phase but maybe it isn't and it's so strong so why not take the chance? And Orym knows what it is clearly and that is why he ignores it but upon accepting Will's words and finding comfort with Dorian he knows "[this is] fine"

Curling up in each other's arms, seeking comfort in one another because tomorrow could be their last day and they may not have a future but they have tomorrow and that's a good place to start

[king-candybug-backup]

So my friend was telling me about how back when the movie first came out, they used to ship Ralph and King Candy REALLY hard, and that was just such a funny concept to me (/pos!) that I had to let the meme goblins take over my brain once again lmfao (this meme specifically)

[kings-highway]

Haikyuu Flash Fiction: "STZ - 7 Minutes in Heaven" (Ushiten)

---

Semi thought it would be a funny prank. After all, Tendou's been harbouring this crush on Ushijima for so long it was getting ridiculous. Where's the harm in pulling on his leg a bit? So when the team is at a party and everyone is laughing and it's ten minutes to midnight, they suggest a game of truth or dare - and oh, it would have been easy to just dare oblivious Ushijima to kiss the poor lovelorn idiot but Semi had other ideas. "Seven minutes in Heaven," he says. "With.. Tendou."

The look Tendou gives him is worth a million bad karma points. Priceless even!

"What is that?" Ushijima would ask, because he has never heard of this odd game. Semi, gladly explains the rules to an increasingly flustered Tendou.

"You have to make-out in a closet for seven minutes."

Ushijima just shrugs and gets up, and Semi is quite happy to follow them to the closet, intending to use something to tie the handles and lock them in.

The closet door shuts.

Now, what you might have already begun to expect to happen did not actually occur to Semi - Or Tendou - upon shutting that closet door.

1. Ushijima Wakatoshi does not break game rules (Tendou will try to explain most people don't actually do any kissing.)

2. Ushijima Wakatoshi wins games.

Semi is hopeful that what he's done is fluster and embarass Tendou enough to take him down a peg. What he gets, instead, when that closet door opens again, is Ushijima wandering out like nothing at all has happened, followed by a Tendou that could barely walk, flushed more red than he'd thought human skin could be, and breathing so hard he may as well have run a marathon.

Semi finds neat holes cut into all his clothes about 6 days later.

[artiststarme]

After the Upside Down and the hospital stays and the murder allegations, Steve and Eddie bonded. But Steve has an awful gaydar and Eddie has low self-esteem so neither one realizes the other one is interested. They flirt, awkwardly touch each other fleetingly, and neither one can tell if the other is interested!

So Robin and Steve start scheming for ways to make Eddie interested but it only serves to make him more frustrated. In turn, Eddie forces Wayne to help him seduce Steve. He goes to his uncle like, “I’m homo, I’m horny, and I need help!”

They realize they like each other after Robin and Wayne run into each other while spying on a date they helped their dinguses set up with each other.