#I want to still feel like I'm doing something even though my brain is dead

[kh-daybreak-cult-au]

KHML getting cancelled killed me and I've fallen behind again. Gonna put this back on hiatus for a bit.

Probably won't be back until after Art Fight (something I was otherwise planning on posting through anyways with a backlog) and I apologize for it.

I was putting off saying this, because I hoped it'd get better, but it's just been so hard for me to will myself to do anything somewhat productive for the past however long.

Might post some stuff anyways, but the schedule is being ditched for now.

Sorry again. I'll try to be back consistently in August.

[mona-risms]

whats goodie gang its the mira headcanons anon. i gotta say THANK YOU FOR THE FOODDD. also im back for more bc i fear your writing absolutely blew me away.

anyways may i request nsfw headcanons for mira w/ an afab reader? and kinda random but perchance could you throw a strap in there somewhere? okay bye (lifts up arms floats away into the sky)

◆ MAIN COURSE: sub!Mira x dom!afab!Reader

◆ TYPE: NSFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: None I think??

◆ NOTES: First off I'M GLAD YOU LIKED IT and second off I love her too bro I gotchu 🫡

OH MY GOD. I LOVE YOU. I love anyone who reqs afab reader actually BUT STILL.

Okay. OKAY. First off other people may say that this woman would prefer the dominant role BUT. This is a sub character blog. And I swear I have justification for Mira okay I swear I do

It's the fact that before she got into HUNTR/X, she's never really fit anywhere. Not with people in society, not with friends, certainly as hell not with her family. Before them, she thought that she'd never have a place where she could just.. belong, and honestly something like that can get ANYONE to feel like they're on some sort of constant survival mode as she refuses to let anyone see any sort of vulnerability that they may use against her

But then there was HUNTR/X, the people she considers the family she doesn't even wanna lose, no matter what. And then there was you. You, who gave her the time, the space, the understanding, instead of dismissing her for her unsavoury bluntness or thinking that she was nothing but a very prickly problem

I think your first time together wouldn't be until like. A bit later in the relationship, I think give or take around 6 months. Being in a relationship w her in the first place already means she trusts you more than most, but getting intimate with each other? First of all, an idol's schedule is BUSYYYYY idk if there'd be any time for that kinda thing, especially not when you're considered the Top 1 K-Pop unit. Second of all?

"We don't have to do anything, if you don't want to."

The words barely register in Mira's brain, the sound and sensation of her own heartbeat overrideing any other senses she had. When it does, however, her head snaps to look at you dead in the eyes, having to look up slightly due to your position—she was sat on the bed, with you having slipped into her lap in the midst of a particularly heated make-out session.

"Huh?"

"Your face," you lifted your hand up to tuck a few strands of pink hair behind her studded ear, "you look scared. We can stop."

She felt her heart squeeze, and a tingling heat in her core. It wasn't because of the way you dragged your hand from her ear.. to ghost her jaw.. before settling on her chin as your thumb lightly traced her bottom lip, though it did help a lot. Rather, it was moreso due to the way you had looked at her—years of living like you were nothing but a problematic inconvenience because your presence was too loud, and yet there was just this person who was willing to wait and listen anyway instead of walking away.

You looked at her like she hung the moon, what the hell was she supposed to do about that?

"No, it's--" The idol cleared her throat before trying again, her voice smaller than both of you had ever expected, "I'm not scared, just.. you're not.. going to think I'm too much to handle after this, right? I've never really done anything with anyone."

"Never let anyone get close enough?"

"Fuck you," there was no anger in her words. "..Yeah."

You just let out a hum, as if the two of you were discussing the weather rather than sex. And then you shook your head as your hand then went from her chin.. down to her the middle of her chest, "I'm not going to think you're 'too much', but we both know you'd rather see it than hear it. So." And you push lightly, "Lie down. Let me demonstrate."

A traitorous blush coated Mira's cheeks, the colour visible within the moon's glow. The light push couldn't ever be enough to knock her down, but she let herself fall back anyway, her hair sprawling behind her like a halo.

She finds herself enclosed within your arms a mere few seconds later when you crawl over to hover above the cool beauty, your lover. And in that very moment, when you duck down to trace kisses down her body while clothes are slowly discarded from both of your bodies, it feels as if the two of you are the only people in the world.

"Instead of 'too much'," you continued when you finally reached the apex of her thighs, wet and glistening, "I'll make sure you feel like you're mine instead.

Mira feels as if she really belonged.

Anyway proceeding to the actual NSFW hcs :3

Start off with Mira's part on this post bc I feel the need to address it again thank you

I think she'd absolutely ADORE soft sex actually. Listen throw away kinks for a second, right. She's gone without care for so long just bc her being a 'problem chold' and being outspoken would def equal to not needing any proper emotional care bc why would she need that? Clearly she can handle it all on her own, right? WRONG she actually needs to be taken care of. Finger her while holding her close so that she can cling to you, even after she cums all over your hand

Apart from that though honestly I feel like she'd be into bondage and acting like a brat. There's something about pretending to struggle and resist—emphasis on the 'pretending' bc be so fr all three girls could snap anyone like a Kit Kat bar thanks to their training—that has her thighs squeezing together. It's like a form of reclaiming I guess? Since everyone else thought she was too much trouble, and yet now she's sprawled on the bed and even the punishment for being a bad girl's sweeter than sin for her

Turnoffs........I don't think she'd enjoy titles much, like 'mommy' and such. Genuinely not for any reason apart from she personally isn't into it, which honestly fair enough girl. Idk if she'd enjoy petplay either, or degredation in general—it has her getting her hackles raised so fucking fast. Light degredation woukd be fine, esp when it's later on in the relationship and she 's more than comfortable with you now. But not too much yk

Creamer and someone who's definitely REALLY into overstim. Anyway

Also? A size queen actually 😄

Whenever Mira jokes by going full deadpan, sometimes you can't tell whether she's being serious or not. And that's perfectly fine, because either way it was usually going to end up entertaining one way or another.

You didn't think it'd apply to a talk about dildos, though.

In the midst of aftercare after a particularly taxing session, the lazy topics between you had somehow migrated to the talk of toys; the type the two of you would like, making fun of toher specific toys, and then...

And then there was the sizes.

You brought up getting your girlfriend the biggest, the most monstrous, the most diabolical strap you'd ever find. And her answer?

"Do it."

You really, really weren't sure if she was joking or not.

..Until today, when in the middle of eating her out, she reached underneath her bed just to reveal a blank box that held.. well, the exact thing that Mira's cunt now tried to hold onto despite you pistoning your hips over and over.

It wasn't the biggest, or the most monstrous, but it was definitely diabolical. You had to open her up slowly with a lot of lube, stretching her out with one finger.. then two.. then three, making sure that she could at LEAST take the start. The rest? The two of you decided to work it out as you went. ..Though it didn't feel like there was much 'figuring out' being done, not as if you were complaining—Mira's nails clawed at the sheets as she let out a series of sultry moans and curses under her breath, all while she moved her hips as if she were on some very enthusiastic autopiloting.

Her speech was jagged at best and utterly incomprehensible at worst, but she clenched on your strap as if it were something real—it couldn't even do so properly, not when it was already stretched out as is.

And you could never forget the stunned face she made when you put it on.. and the way her body shook as she came for god knows how many times now as she buried her head in her pillows in an attempt to shut herself up.

JUST SAYING AFTERCARW IS SO SOSOSOSOSOSO IMPORTANT TO HER!!! She gets so endearingly quiet as the two of you just lay there for who knows how long. And she'll also ask if you wanna get anything to eat/get delivered. AND she'll ask you if you wanted anything before she passed out for a nice nap

It just turns into a cuddle sesh and honestly? What more could anyone ask for?

[moonmunson]

hello my old heart

a/n: wally clark has invaded my brain space and i cannot seem to rid him from my mind his himbo charms have seduced me. just in my mind this is set in the late '90s, but mr. martin isn't evil. none of the other kids are really mentioned by name, but this would be a few years after charley's death. as always i'm writing with a plus sized!reader in mind but anyone can read it.

summary: struggling with becoming comfortable in death, wally has made himself your new buddy.

cw: general angst and sadness over being dead, wally is a sweetheart who just wants to help. hurt/comfort with a sweet ending and a little bit of kissing. gn!reader, theatre kid x jock

wc: 2.1k

You think you’ve been dead for a little over a week. It’s hard to tell - time moves so differently here. It feels like static on the skin, the way the TV screen feels fuzzy when you touch it after it's been turned off. You haven’t spoken much, and the other dead kids don’t expect you to for a while. They’ve all told you that everyone reacts differently to their death, that there’s no right or wrong way to cope. 

You’re worried that if you open your mouth, it’ll be difficult to stop crying. Or screaming, or both. So you sit quietly in the circle in the gymnasium, listening as Mr. Martin leads the support group meeting. You’re appreciative of his trying to get you to open up, but you’re only capable of responding in nods and shrugs. When it’s over, you go to make your way back to the auditorium. It might be weird to some, considering you died there, but it’s still the place you feel the safest.

A few steps out of the gym, you hear pounding footsteps coming up next to you. It’s Wally, because of course it is. He’s dubbed himself your ‘Unofficial death guide.’ He’s the sweetest, and you wish you could actively participate in conversation with him. 

“You goin’ back to the auditorium?” When he talks, you have to crane your head to the right and all the way up because he’s so fucking tall. You nod, and he parrots it. 

“I don’t know how you can go back to that place. I couldn’t even look at the football field for like a week after I died.” Even when you don’t respond, Wally keeps going. “I also don’t know how you stand sharing a space with Mina. She's, like, totally scary.” He makes a face then, pinched up, like he’s imagining being trapped in a room with the other, objectively more aggressive theatre ghost.

It makes you giggle. Like, audibly giggle. Wally’s eyes widen, surprised that he was able to get a noise out of you. He laughs in return, a breathless exhale. He’s clearly proud of himself. 

“I have got to get you to do that again.” You shake your head no, even though the smile hasn’t left your face. “I’m serious, I have got to hear that laugh again!” 

When you round the corner near the front office, you stop in your tracks, the smile on your face quickly fading. Your mom and dad are there, holding a box with everything that was in your locker. It’s a weird feeling. You hadn’t forgotten you were dead, obviously, but everything had felt very up in the air.

Like the moment before a show starts - everyone sitting in the audience, the curtain still down to block the view of actors taking their places. Like limbo. Seeing your parents, their tear stricken faces, that makes it feel real. Too real. The sharp breath you take in alerts Wally to the fact that something is wrong, and he follows your gaze to the two adults standing at the front desk. 

“Oh shit, are those your parents?” Wally asks, his voice taking a softer tone. He has a volume control problem, everyone knows it, and you’re appreciative that he’s quieted down for this.

You nod, a small jerk of your head. He brings a tentative hand up to your shoulder, and when you don’t move away, he places it more firmly. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am. Do you wanna go up and see them?” 

You don’t answer, you just walk away. Wally calls after you, but doesn’t follow. 

The auditorium truly is your safe space. You were never brave enough to actually perform anything, though your teacher had begged you to. She’d heard you singing to yourself one day, and asked why you’d never auditioned for anything. You’d just deflected and said the stage fright would make you freeze. She’d been understanding, but encouraged you to think about auditioning for the show this year. 

You were a senior, it’d been your last opportunity to be in the spotlight, but by the time auditions came around you’d chickened out. The hidden disappointment on your teacher’s face wasn’t so hidden, but she made sure you had your usual spot on the tech and run crew portion of the show.

You died a few weeks later, tripping off of the stage while setting up a set piece and breaking your neck falling into the orchestra pit. Like a sick fucking joke. 

Now, you sit in the audience, gazing at the stage. It’s still blocked off by crime tape. The show for the end of the year has been effectively cancelled on account of your dying. ‘Postponed indefinitely’ is the term the overhead announcements had used, but you all knew what that actually meant. It just wasn’t gonna happen. 

You mostly just feel numb. Obviously your death isn’t something you could ever prepare for, and just like every other ghost in the building, your life had been unfairly cut short. Just like everyone else, you’d had plans for the rest of your life. None of them solid or reliable, but you’d had some idea of what you wanted your life to look like. A well paying job that you genuinely enjoyed, maybe a husband or wife and a few kids. All of that is gone now. 

Your parents in the front office felt like a kick to the gut, salt in the wound. The look on your mom’s face, the way your dad was cradling the box of your things like if he held tight to it enough it would bring you back.. it was too much to bear.

And Wally, sweet, kind, Wally. He’s been trying really hard with you, and you can’t even work up the nerve to say something to him. To thank him for being there for you, or answer any of the many questions or jokes he throws your way. 

You don’t even realize the tears are streaming down your face until they drip onto your hands in your lap. Once you feel the first one, the rest fall in quick succession and before you know it, you’re audibly sobbing in the empty theatre. It’s almost embarrassing, the way your cries echo because of the acoustics. 

Wally comes in quietly, and sits down next to you. You’ve been too preoccupied to notice anything other than your tears, heavy and streaking down your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He’s warm, and when you grab the front of his sweatshirt, he holds you tighter.

It takes a while for you to calm down - you’d been holding everything in for too long - you were bound to bubble over and explode at some point. When you feel yourself come back to your body, Wally is still holding you. He’s stroking your head and whispering comforts to you. You don’t deserve him, you think.

He’s still rubbing your back when you pull away to look at him, but you’re distracted by the wet spot on his sweatshirt - the light grey darkened by your tears. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice cracking from how long it’s been since you’ve spoken, “I’m sorry.”

Wally’s eyes widen, not prepared for you to start talking, and he jumps to console you. “Woah, hey, don’t even worry about it. This ratty old thing? I’ve been wearing it for like, almost twenty years.” He giggles a bit, continuing, “I honestly think this is the closest this thing has been to a washing machine even longer than that, so. No sweat, promise.”

You nod, thanking him. 

“Are you, like…” he trails off, not sure how to ask you if you’re okay. It’s a silly question, he knows that. “I remember the first time I saw my parents after I died. There was a vigil on the football field like a week after it happened. Everyone was there, and they were all crying and it was so weird. I didn’t feel dead yet, like I hadn’t accepted that it really happened.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you, Wally. I’m really sorry.” Your eyes meet, and he shrugs.

He smiles, a sad, nostalgic thing. He can’t tell you it’s okay, because it’s not. Instead, he goes to hold your hand. “I promise it will get better. It just takes some time. It’s gonna suck for a while, but we’re all here for you. I’m here for you.” His thumb rubs circles on the top or your hand, and you smile up at him. 

“Thanks, Wally. I really appreciate it.” Your interconnected hands are grounding you. It’s the first time you’ve felt a semblance of peace since you died. “Do you mind if we sit here for a little bit? It’s quiet, I don’t want to leave yet.” He nods, and the two of you just sit there.

Just like Wally said it would, it gets easier.

You start going to more of the meetings with Mr. Martin, and you actually start participating. It was weird at first - you thought people would make a big deal out of your finding your voice again, but they just smiled, proud of your growth. Wally has been your biggest cheerleader, but they’re all really supportive. Even Rhonda, though she still sports her gloomy demeanor. 

When they fix up the stage and clear the crime scene tape, the school holds your vigil there. Wally is right there with you in the audience, holding your hand while your parents speak. Your theatre teacher speaks too, and talks highly of you. Your brightness, the passion you had for theatre. When she says you had a beautiful voice, that you could’ve been somebody, she directs it at your parents. They agree, it seems. 

There are still days where it's really hard. You retreat back into your shell, refusing to leave the auditorium or speak to anyone. Wally's patience with you is endless, and when you allow him to stay with you, he spends all day cracking jokes to help you feel better.

One day, instead of letting you isolate yourself, he drags you out onto the football field to get some sun. "We don't really need vitamin D anymore, but I really think it'll help. C'mon, the sun on your skin? Wind in your hair? Can't beat that, babe." He leads you out onto the field - one hand clasped in yours and the other holding a backpack.

The pet names are a new thing, but you don't mind it. He'd slipped one day, called you sweetheart, and immediately backtracked and apologized profusely. All you could do was laugh and call him cute.

"Where did you even get that?" you giggle, following him to a spot under a tree near the edge of the field. "Did you steal that from someone?"

He drops your hand to bring it to his own chest, offended at your assumption. "Me? Steal? I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me," he plops onto the grass, patting the spot next to him, "Yeah I totally stole it, emptied it out, and then filled it with a shit ton of snacks and drinks so we could have a picnic out here." He unzips the bag, pulling out at least ten different bags of chips and candy bars.

"This is really sweet, Wally," you can feel your face heat up, though hopefully it'll just look like it's because of the heat. "It's like a date, almost." His head shoots up to look at you, pink dusting his cheeks and ears.

"Y-yeah, if you want it to be. If you think you're ready for that kind of thing." He stutters, a nervous boyish thing. He's the sweetest person ever.

“I am, I think,” you nod while you’re talking, like you’ve made up your mind, “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Wally ducks his head down, chin meeting his chest. He’s fully blushing now - it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long time. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and maneuvering your body so your back is pressed up against his chest, head resting in the space between his head and shoulder, “is this okay?” 

You turn your head to try and look at him, and he angles his towards you. His face is inches from yours, and if you had a heartbeat, it’d be beating wildly right now. You can almost feel it, the pitter patter of it in your chest. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the space under his eye. You nod, and move in to kiss him. 

His lips are so soft, and the way they move in conjunction with yours provides much needed relief. You stay like that for a few minutes, and when you’re done, he rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze sweeping up the hill you’re sitting on. You never had anything like this when you were still alive, the easy conversation and back and forth banter. He’s your new safe space. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with him. 

“This is perfect.”

a/n: wally clark is actually so special to me and when i think about him for too long i get very emotional. my shayla. i wrote this in the span of like a day and a half so if there are any mistakes i'm sorry LMAO

if you liked this story, please like and reblog!! it'd mean the world to me, even if you just drop a silly comment. i want to write more for wally because he desperately needs more stories on here.

[thinkinboutyootoo]

⚠︎ If you don’t like or can't take accountability, LOA is not for you .𖥔 ݁ ˖

Lately, it's been very common for me to see people talk about their manifestation process in a way that might imply or directly state they've been struggling to do them:

"I've been doing scripting, subliminals, and robotic affirming for 6 months and I haven't seen anything yet.."

"I did 50k affirmations today, no results yet, even though I'm persisting.."

"The physical isn't aligning to what I want, nothing is working.."

"I've tried everything for months, I still haven't gotten my manifestation.."

It'd be blind of me to say that this struggle doesn't happen in the community, but each of these statements and ones similar to them all have one thing they lack: Accountability.

𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱

↳ Accountability: being answerable in justifying one's actions or decisions; taking responsibility.

It can be discouraging if you aren't "seeing" things happen for you, especially if you feel like you've been persistent in affirming for them, but the ultimate reason behind those feelings is simple: you are not holding yourself accountable. (at least not properly!) Let's discuss how to tackle this:

Wavering

↳ Something that helped me take better accountability for my mindset and the kinds of thoughts I was having was addressing my wavering the second it began to happen.

What eliminated this phenomenon for me was realizing that everything is happening through me. Meaning, If I waver, my manifestation wavers. If I persist however, my manifestation is strong and comes through.

For example, maybe you're wanting a job, but you think "I don't know if my resume is strong enough.."

In turn, your employer will think -> "Hm, I don't know if this resume is strong enough."

↳ FLIP YOUR THINKING! -> Obviously your resume is strong, because you're a hardworking person, you have the experience to do the job well, and then some.

"My resume is strong, I have the experience." -> "Wow, they're exactly who we're looking for, they have the experience."

Limiting Beliefs

↳ A lot of people don't realize that letting go of limiting beliefs means you really need to let them go, for good.

When you hold on to things like "Damn, men really don't change," even if you feel like you haven't experienced that side of men (regardless of the type of relationship), the men you're going to attract are going to align with what you think of them.

You can't be surprised about the outcome, when your mind expected it.

↳ Reframe your thinking -> "The men in my life are amazing, caring, and respectful to me."

Quantity vs. Quality

↳ If you are more concerned with the amount of affirmations you're doing rather than the depth of them, the road you're on is reaching a dead end.

Again, we're all aware that its not required for you to have every single tool, method, and material to be able to manifest, however, the strength you have in knowing it'll happen is important.

You can affirm as many times as you want, but if it's taking you 6 months the manifest 1 dollar... Yeah nah. There needs to a certain level of depth behind your affirmations; Do you think you deserve it? Do you feel like you have to work for it? Unpack all of that.

↳ Address the quality behind your manifestation -> "I know I deserve X because..."

"Where is it?"

↳ Trapping yourself in to needing to see movement or physically know something is there or happening is exactly what will keep you from receiving what you're "looking for."

It sounds complicated, but it really isn't more than trusting yourself. It's up to you (and you only) to discard what you're seeing and trust that you have what you want.

Think of it like object permanence: when you're young, your brain doesn't know yet that things can exist outside of you even if you can't see them. As you get older, you eventually learn about it and it increases the depth of your reality.

↳ Your manifestation is already here, even if you can't see it -> "I don't need to check my account, I know I have enough money."

𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱

Whatever you call into your life was already going to happen, it's a matter of learning when to catch yourself dragging your own weight. It's already yours, just trust yourself, because you are capable of so much already! Take care (˶˘ ³˘(´͈ ᵕ `͈˶)

it's already yours! love u! kk

[anxiouspotionofgloom]

Scarian fics rec!

Ok so, here's me dumping all the Scarian fics I love and find underrated (under 1k kudos, please go give them some love if you see this 🥺)

No particular order except for number one, because this is my favourite fic ever and I think of it almost every day it is so criminally underrated and may or may not be the reason I created this list...

Sorry for the ping authors, I've been told most people would like to be pinged on those if I included their fics, so here we go I guess!

as above, so below by @birrdies

Hermit’s Hollow was a quiet town where you learned to ignore whisperings of nonsense and the dull, persistent feeling of being watched before you learned to ride a bike. To call it pedestrian would be a great disservice to all the terrible oddities occupying it— folks and legends alike. Not that Grian believed any of them, of course. Or; There's something wrong in Hermit's Hollow. There's something wrong with Grian. Neither of these are a surprise to him.

I'm begging you to give it a chance, it has legit rewritten my brain chemistry, the scarian dynamic is so perfect in here, the plot so fleshed out and it reaches, dear lord it reaches inside your chest and twist. I cried. I laughed. I smiled so hard it felt like it was carving itself on my face. My favourite Scarian fic forever probably.

2. they say my star is a little lonely (so how about staying a little longer?) by Lappisu (I don't know if they have Tumblr please lmk if they do ;-;)

Forgive Grian for not keeping track of the time. Centuries and seconds all feel the same when it's been so long since anything has happened on the little planet Grian calls home—until a being that calls himself Scar lands. He's too loud, and too bright, and too much of everything. Unfortunately, Scar is the single most interesting thing Grian has laid eyes upon in a long time. Forgive Grian for wanting more. or: Grian and Scar, strangers in space, and then some.

This fic is so so good, I am so intrigued by the concept and the lore behind it all, I am genuinely reading it for scarian but also for the world surrounding them, and thinking of Grian, alone on his little planet, it Gets to me. And the ending moment!! I was literally kicking my feet twirling my hair, I'm very weak to 'I'll kill them all' moments thank you <3

3. counting steps by @ilexdiapason and @greyquills

“Well - if nothing's broken, you didn't chip any teeth or anything, then I guess it's all good, right?" (It is not all good. It has lost everything. It has unbecome itself and now it has nothing, not even the wings on its back, not even the Sight in its core.) "Yes." Or: in which Grian has Fallen, but somebody is there to pick him up again. And again, and again, and again, every time he cannot find his way.

This fic is 9 kudos away from being out of this list but I'm squeezing it in there because it is SO good. I ate it up the whole way through. Fallen angel is such an interesting trope, and I love what they did with it. It is such an ode to humanity and what makes us us, seeing how Grian slowly creates himself out of all the things he has discovered, the things that Scar has made him discover, it goes very hard. Tears in my eyes perhaps.

4. it feels good to be known so well by @roseandmaple

Somehow, in the chaos that is the apocalypse— former human beings rising from the dead and whatnot— Scar has managed to find his way into the Compound, a makeshift gated community of survivors from all around the world, led by a man they call Grian. By some grace of God (or, more accurately, his own silver tongue) Scar has quickly climbed his way up the ranks, and has found himself in the position of their leader’s right hand man. The unfortunate thing, though, is that Scar’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve it. Because Scar is still himself— clumsy, forgetful, reckless— but for some reason, Grian hasn’t sent him away yet, hasn’t replaced him with someone better, and a nagging voice in the back of Scar’s mind has one question: why? Or: Scar gets injured, Grian fixes him up, and they finally talk about their feelings.

Very cute fic!! I'm so interested in the relationship Scar and grian seem to have! It balances humour and self-doubt well, coupled with soft scenes that I'm 🥺 about.

5. Moths to a Fluorescent Flame by @entropyhours

Scar's there, standing, a cheeky, ever so slightly bashful grin on her face. It's almost a smirk, her classic slightly off-kilter upturned smile that frequently makes a cosy home on the tanned lines of her face. She makes a door opening gesture with her arms, a silly, dramatic thing that involves far too much motion for the small amount it realistically communicates. Can I come out? I'll leave you alone if you really want. Grian doesn't know what she really wants. In there it's warmth and joy and noise and people and the fear that all this is transient and bound to crumble in her careless hands. Out here it's cold and lonely and unchanging stillness and safety. Devil you know better than the devil you don't. Moth burning up in the neon radiation it trusts more than anything else. Icarus inside, Icarus outside. (in which a substantial New Year's kiss is shared at midnight, but feelings are best left unspoken)

It is MY rec list and I get to decide which fics go on here which is why I'm nominating my friend!!!!!!! It is such an amazing yuri fic (we need more of those in the world) The way scarian are so soft at each others in here, they have this understanding of each other, the things left unsaid and the things that are indeed said, it's all so lovely!!

6. The Love of a Killer by Anonymous

It has been 3 years since Detective Grian caught and apprehended the ‘Goodtimes Killer’, almost dying in the process. When the serial killer escapes prison, Grian is once again thrown back into a game of cat and mouse to catch him. Only this time, the killer has a new obsession with the detective that may prove detrimental to the case and his life.

Obsessed with this one. It's darker than the other fics but my god. MY GOD. This got me to rewatch hannibal for the fourth time and start a fifth. It is just so amazing, from the cat and mouse relationship between Scar and Grian (where they both try in turn to be the cat) to the plot besides the 'romance' that is so intriguing to me, it goes way beyond being a simple chase of a murderer, truly i'm amazed and oh so patiently waiting for a new update!

7. Splinters by orangeghosts

When Grian has trouble with a build, his solution is to just work harder. Unfortunately, this can lead to him neglecting pesky things like basic self care, including the preening of his wings. Enter Scar, who agrees to lend a hand with the terraforming on Grian's base - if he agrees to clean his wings first. And to stop him from sneaking off and working instead, Scar insists on watching him the whole time. This puts Grian, master of deflection and ignoring his feelings, in a rather tricky situation.

Honestly anything by this author is amazing, they've got a way with words that i find so magnificient, and it comes out so beautifully when coupled with their great characterisations. Honestly i'm weak to preening fic anyway, this is so soft and in love and if you've been yearning for them gay love, I would suggest you give it a try!!

8. A Certain Je Ne Sais What by @good-chimes

Literally any one of Grian’s friends would be a better soulmate than Scar, and Grian is going to prove this scientifically. Grian’s already felt it, a pinprick in his thumb. He’s familiar—he’s so painfully, unforgettably familiar—with the way Scar sees something and is already reaching out to touch it before he’s asked questions like 'what is this' and 'is it bad news' and 'is it going to hurt me, Scar, and by extension the unwilling bystander my physical sensations are now linked to'. Scar just immediately reaches out.

Another author I'm obsessed with. Pure bangers. This particular fic of them is one of my favourite, purely because of how well it gets the personality of Scar and Grian. It's so much them reading it again makes my heart vibrates: these are the men I (metaphorically) fell in love with. It is also frankly hilarious. So very Grian to list everything like that and still cuddle up to Scar. Big seal of approval, love this fic!

9. Graveyard Cinderella (the whole cemetery cryptid au) by @sisyphean-torment

As a necromancer, the last thing Scar expected when he dug up a coffin to raise someone from the dead and con them out of their valuables, was for the resident to already be alive. It only gets more confusing from there. Or, hey what the fuck is up with Grian

This AU is soo funny and I'm fascinated by everyone's deal, author has a way to write everything so naturally and yet we barely get some details about what's happening, which is one of my favourite kind of stories!! Though really, check out anything they've written, it's a gold mine :>

10. do you ever think of me and my two hands? by froggenbie

Grian and Scar drift back to each other throughout every season of the Life series. Except drifting makes it sound like it’s an accident, like it’s not purposeful. Like it’s not love. Like it’s not fate. or: hearts embroidered in clothes, puppy love laughter, three seasons of mountains, and a big fuck you to the universe or or: desert duo’s history throughout the life smp

I really liked this one!! The writing is so emotionnal, almost poetic, and I love this type of stories that explore characters within the bounds of canon (almost!).

11. out of memory and time by @purple-nightfall-writes

Scar looked at him with interest. “You’ve been living here, all by yourself, for five years? I think I’d go crazy." “Well, can’t promise I haven’t,” Grian said, shamefaced. After all, minutes earlier, he’d tapped into ancient magic to scream at a total stranger. Likely not a total stranger, actually… he mused, remembering the matching rings. There was an obvious question they raised. It was much too weighty to ask. “Do you think we knew each other?” he asked instead. “During the months we both lost, I mean.” Scar leaned back, thinking for a moment. “I mean, we must have at least met, right? If I knew your name, and you’ve got a ring I enchanted.” Grian startled slightly. He hadn’t really had time to process the implications of the name, on top of everything else. “You used my real name,” he said quietly. “Not many people even knew that one.” Or: Famed wizard Scar finds himself wandering in an unfamiliar land with no memory of how he got there. Grian, the dutiful Watcher, finds himself staring at a reflection he doesn't quite recognize, haunted by a sense of unease. Together, they must figure out what happened and what connects them to each other.

Another friend :D This fic is so cute and really funny, I promise, once you read it fully the silly gets you ahahahha. Man, Scar and Grian in here are dumb in the best way.

12. Scar's Magical Emporium for Lost Grians by butterfly_wings

Things! It's Scar's Magical Emporium for Lost Things. - Grian (Scar runs a shop for lost objects. Grian is the unfortunate soul who keeps appearing in the store.)

It is SO adorable I immediately fell in love with the premise of this, and it upheld its promise as I read through the story! All in all it's deeply cute, but if you think about the reason behind Grian's appearance there's this bittersweet feeling on your tongue, how Grian is lost and Scar knows it and is so patient with it ahhh <3

13. a little victimless crime by @definitelynotshouting

On a technical level, the rite he’s performing is paltry compared to what he executed all those heady months back– chalk-powder in concentric circles, a matchbook, the potential for flame. Simple. Too simple; any of his old professors (Academy-trained, tried, and true) would have failed him for presenting such a stripped summoning spell. But half the magic lies in intent– with enough bull-headed, scrabbling belief, you can claw anything into a shape of your choosing. Grian had taught him that. One breath. Two. No room for doubt– no room for second chances. Scar strikes the match and, with a deft flick of his hand, tosses it into the chalk-powder.

A bit of a short one but I'm frankly enamoured with the rich universe the author managed to write in so few words. (One of my favourite author too, please check them out!) The way Scar and Grian fit together, the way their softness is contrasted by their fury at the world for wronging them... Amazing. I'd read a hundred more of them.

(The next two fics are '&' (platonic), but I didn't have enough to make two list separately so if you want Grian and Scar in all their forms, you can read those too, they're amazing, but please don't bother authors about it thank you)

14. Interlude From Another Reality: Peacock's-Eye by @sixteenth-days

"My assistant," announced Scar Goodtimes, newly-promoted Head Archivist of the Peacock's-Eye Institute, to nobody in particular except maybe the paused audio recording software on his laptop, or perhaps the small pile of tape recorders his predecessor'd left piled on a shelf in the corner, or arguably the little peacock-feather eye logo that dotted the office as haphazardly as it did the entire Institute, "is weird." (In which Scar is Grian's Archivist, and Grian is Scar's assistant.)

Ok skirting the edges of small fics here, but I really liked this fic!! You don't necessarily need to read the hermitcraft serie to get it, just have some basic knowledge from the podcast, but be aware this fic contains spoilers for the original TMA! Absolutely love how Grian was written here, he's just a funny little guy, and all the possessive use on words despite him not knowing the source, chef's kiss!!

15. catching signals that sound in the dark by @droidofmay

“Poultry Man, I’m gonna have to ask you to step back,” Scar said, and Grian went still. “Or, y’know, I guess I’m telling you? Definitely telling you, this is an order– step away from the Voidsong. Remove your digits from his person now, please, or I am going to have to explode you and explain that to Pearl and she will never give me extra concert tickets ever again.” Scar had his bow drawn, an arrow pointed in Grian’s direction. He was close enough that it would tear through Grian’s host body like paper, though the explosives in Scar’s quiver would’ve been more effective, and he was tense around the eyes, a wobbling downturn to his mouth. His voice had trembled, emotion leaking through like before he’d gone professional. Grian knew how those feelings tasted from the inside. He knew those hands, that vascular system, how Scar’s smooth voice felt as it vibrated out of his throat, as his tongue shaped the words– and that was what drew him back from Voidsong, even if it really would’ve been wiser to keep himself intertwined, because he knew that terror, too. Incredibly well. Way too well, as a matter of fact.

I'm thinking of this fic at least once a week. I'm such a fan of complicated relationships, and adding in the mix Grian as some strange symbiote thing? Complicated doesn't even begin to describe the way Grian was wrapped inside Scar's body so deep like a second soul, intertwined in such disturbing manner, I live for that!! The way they know each other so intimately and yet there's so many dark stains on each other's understanding, I'm so unwell it's not even funny. Odaigahara is such an amazing author in general, the words gut you. Like a knife, those sentences cut through your skin to twist your insides, and there's nothing you can do but continue to read.

-

Anyways that's it! It was my first time doing a fics rec, I hope it was to everyone's liking!! Please give some love to the authors, as an author myself I know most of us get oh so happy to see a little comment in our inbox or even a kudo!!

You can also contribute by putting your favourite under 1k kudos scarian fic in the tags or reblogs!

Amazing day to all, hope you'll find some fics you haven't heard of before :>

And if you have read them all... well you get the knowledge that you have excellent taste 😌

[vicolette]

𝐅𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n, passing out/being sick, angst with comfort, not proofread

"You’re gonna get me fired."

Lamine couldn’t comprehend whatever you were saying – heck, he couldn’t even comprehend what was happening or why it was happening or how it was happening.

One thing he knew though, and that was, that he felt sick to his stomach.

His vision was blurry and, from what he could muster out were his teammates, they were anxious to the core. His heartbeat was rapidly beating as Lamine took in a deep breath, only to cough and move to lay on his side.

"Bro, you good?!" Alejandro yelled out as he handed you his bottle of water, yet your hands were still checking his pulse and then his forehead. Soon enough, you merely raised your eyebrows before looking at Lamine, furrowing them in disapproval.

"You’re not playing the next game." This one statement made him scoff as he tried to sit up, only for Pedri to tell him to stay calm and wait for the coach to return, the training field turning into a chaos.

Cubarsí paced around while trying to calm both himself and Gavi down, while Aurajo could only stare at Kounde, who had his face hidden in his hands. Everyone else was either trying to find out what was wrong, or too shocked to even be mentioned.

"I so am." Lamine said with a frown on his face, watching as you clicked your tongue after grabbing his leg and checking out his physical condition. Kounde had accidentally tackled him too hard during training and in the midst of apologizing, he fell to the ground.

Now, the problem at hand should have been his calf muscles, which were the ones where he experienced most pain whenever you pressed on it a bit too hard. However, it didn’t take a genius to notice how red his face was, helping you come to a conclusion.

Lamine had a fever.

"Nope." Your words were teasing, mocking, as you bitterly smiled at him and patted his shoulder, making him scoff. He didn’t like to be ridiculed, especially not by you – someone, who always had a say in every single aspect of FC Barcelona players.

Well, not every single aspect, but you were the daughter of one of the doctors and also had the very same smart brain, yet it seemed like you had gotten the playful side from your mother. It made Lamine throw his head back and pant for air, wanting to get over with this and stop the pain.

He felt dizzy and could barely even speak, much less move as he stared at you dead in the eye and hoped for something to happen. Anything. But he could only hear his teammates getting louder.

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to tell me where it hurts the most, understood?" Lamine heard less than half of whatever you had just said, yet had an idea and nodded his head, making you wonder if he seriously understood you. Nonetheless, your hand slid from his thigh to his knee, down to his ankle as you repeatedly pressed your fingers against specific places.

Lamine could only choke on his own saliva, barely managing to stay in place as he stared at the sky. A moment of silence passed by before you held onto his calf, making him nod and try to wiggle out of your grip.

"Lamine, stay calm." It made no sense to say that as you stood up and looked down at him, feeling a bit disgusted by how sweaty he was. However, it was completely normal and understandable, even if it looked weird with his blonde bleached hair.

Taking a step closer to his chest, you sat back down on the green grass and watched as he could barely move his head, pondering whether or not you could do anything else. You weren’t allowed to examine him without permission of your father, so you weren’t even allowed to check or patch him up, since this wasn’t your job.

"Pedri." The said person immediately came for assistance, his own hands almost dripping with sweat from feeling anxious. You tilted your head to look over your shoulder, glancing at Alejandro before speaking up again. "And Alejandro, get a doctor and Flick."

In an instant, they rushed off and split up to get both of them as soon as possible, whereas you looked back at Lamine. If you couldn't afford physical protection, then the least that you could do was help him mentally recover.

With a gentle touch on his cheek, you slowly rubbed your thumb over his cheek and by accident touched his nose, slightly cracking a smile before you apologized. "Sorry, wasn’t my intention."

Lamine could only swallow a few times while staring at you, his fingers aching as he tapped your knee to get your attention, making you look at his hand. Just by the gesture alone did you know that he wanted you to hold his hand, allowing yourself to make a mocking 'awww' sound before interlocking your fingers.

However, Lamine didn’t mind it as he panted for air to enter his lungs, his tousled hair damp at this point, his complexion ill and feverish. In all honesty, he felt like fainting at the moment, yet he remained calm and conscious.

"I like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And after that, Lamine was completely silent as his eyelids grew heavier, slowly falling into the arms of Morpheus. Once he was out cold, your father had finally arrived, yet Flick was yet to be found.

"What happened?" He had said, kneeling down to an already passed out Lamine as he firstly checked his pulse and then forehead, while you just watched. If you were to follow into your father's footsteps, then you could always help Lamine whenever he was overworked, just like now.

You could solely raise an eyebrow as Lamine still held onto your hand, knowing how your father was getting more confused by each passing second, yet you just shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him.

"He's having a fever dream."

– A/N : I fear I love to write his blonde bleached hair😝😝

[jnw1813]

Shopping

You and Conquest go shopping for the first time. Fluff and feels ensue.

Letting you fret over him for a bit, Conquest looked on with amusement as you patted down his jumper, checking him over for the nth time, making sure he was presentable for a day out.

Obviously, there wasn't much you could do about his fierce appearance and prosthetic arm, but you figured in a world full of superpowers and odd individuals, Conquest would only get a few glances before being ignored.

You hoped so, at least.

“Okay,” You took a deep breath, “Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be.” He mutters, glancing out the window, at the distant town where you two were heading today; his first time into town, in fact.

You had a lot of shopping to get done, and with Conquest falling deeper in love with you, he refused to let you out of his sight for so long– a mix of possessiveness and protectiveness fueling him to follow you wherever you go.

So, doing one last check on him, you exited the house, Conquest at your heels.

The drive to town was quiet, Conquest's keen eye focused on the unfamiliar surroundings, ingrained instincts seeking out any threats to his mate.

When you parked near the shopping centre, you reached over, squeezing his hand with a reassuring smile on your face.

“Come on. We've got a lot to buy.”

—

Conquest liked Earth markets. There was something so… rustic about most of them, even the most rich and fancy places had a 'grounded' feel to them compared to stores on other planets. Not that Viltrumites did much shopping, of course, but Conquest did get out and had seen plenty of different cultures and their markets… before destroying them.

Hm. Best not to mention that to you. No need to reinforce how bad he was in your mind.

As you went from store to store, buying what you needed (and buying a few extra things here and there), Conquest took on carrying duty, arms full of bags. He didn't mind, of course– no need to remind you how strong he is, right?– though he didn't like that it kept his hands full. What if he needed to hit someone or wanted to touch you?

Humming, Conquest leaned down. "One sec, pumpkin." He whispered in your ear, disappearing briefly as he flew out of the mall, fast, putting all the shopping into the trunk of the car. Then he was back, barely two seconds having passed.

At your amused look as you figured out what he just did, he just grinned, resting a hand on your opposite hip, squeezing gently.

"Come on. What's next on the list?"

 —

Looking around the store, Conquest stood still as you held up clothes to his body. Soft music played over the speakers, some brain numbing pop song about summer and parties. The store was clean, bright, lots of whites, creams, and wood browns for contrast.

"Mmm, how about this one?" Your voice catches his attention, and he looks down, humming as he eyes the colourful shirt.

"I like it." He says plainly. It makes you sigh but you still smile.

"You can have opinions, Con. You don't need to agree to all my suggestions."

"I'm not," he murmurs, watching you check the size of some pants next. For some reason, you look shy and almost flustered as you look at some grey sweatpants. "I like it. I don't mind wearing them so long as they fit and are comfortable."

"Hm." You walk around a rack, grinning as you hold up a large t-shirt. "So what you're saying is… you'd wear this?"

It's a white shirt with rainbow coloured blood splatters and an unicorn on the front. Except the unicorn is standing proudly above a cartoonish dead body. There's some text claiming 'The horn isn't just for show' on top of the image.

Conquest stares at it, deadpan.

"Yes. Put it in the cart." He says, turning away, smirking to himself as he hears you let out a choked laugh, taken by surprise.

As you keep looking around, Conquest wanders a bit, ignoring the occasional stares from strangers. He ends up wandering into an aisle filled with tiny soft clothes in soft colours. It makes him pause.

An unfamiliar feeling fills him as he, hesitantly, picks up a little bundle. It's a powder blue colour, and as he holds it in his palm (a single palm– so, so small), he sees it's a onesie.

A tiny blue onesie.

Conquest feels frozen, staring down at the baby clothes with something akin to wonderment. He can't even conceive the thought of something so small, yet here lies the proof. Are all babies so small, he wonders, to be able to fit in this outfit? In his palm?

The thought of his one, big hand cradling a newborn nearly undoes him.

It feels like he can't breathe, chest aching with such yearning he hasn't felt in forever.

He makes a sound, pained, almost. A hand lands on his shoulder, nearly startling him.

"Hun? Conquest?" You whisper, peering over to see what has him so… oh.

Giving the big man a soft look, you smile, leaning against him.

You understand.

"Come on," you whisper, tugging his arm gently. "We'll add it to the cart."

Conquest's heart soars at your words, at what the hidden promise nestled between the letters mean. It's unspoken, neither of you ready for that step yet, but it will happen.

The baby onesie is added to the pile of clothes, a silent promise that it will see use in the future hanging between you two.

Conquest clings to that promise, keeps it close to his heart, letting it soothe that yearning ache he's had for millennia. He holds onto it for the rest of the trip, on the drive home, and for the rest of the day.

It warms him, the thought of little honey-brown eyes and your hair and tiny chubby fists…

Emperor help me, he thinks. I've gone weak. And yet he finds he can't give a shit.

Later that night, as you get ready for bed, Conquest feels the soft cotton of the onesie again, imagining just for a moment… before carefully tucking it away in his bedside drawer, and rolling over to face you.

That was still a while away, after all. And he had you, which was more than enough for him.

[xoxo-sarah]

The Fair

↝a/n: well this was heart wrenching. ☹️ Why did I decide to write this? I hurt my own feelings with this one, guys.

↝pairing:Daryl Dixon x reader

↝warning: angst, death, season 9 events, Alpha + whispers, the spikes, Daryl never getting his happy ending, it's a bit gruesome ngl, crying, fighting, torture, getting shot, stabbing, self-loathing (Daryl ☹️), more death, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 6.24.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

The early morning sun shone across the town of Alexandria, although not doing much for how the fall chill nipped at any skin showing.

Daryl glanced up from his spot on the porch, after hearing the door open. You stepped out, face scrunching when the smell of nicotine hit your nose. Daryl simply took in your appearance. Freshly showered, clean clothes, and wet hair knotted into a different style than usual. He took a final puff of the cigarette, before flicking it somewhere off the porch.

As you stepped forward, his hand motioned to your hair, "I tried a different braid. I think it's called a fishtail, I'm not sure though. Needed to practice so I could do something different for the fair." You shrugged, moving to take a seat beside him on the rickety porch steps. His hand raised, feeling the bumps of the braid.

He knew you were excited for the fair, wanting to get out of the walls of Alexandria, and not to do a supply run. You need this; time with friends who feel more like family every day.

Daryl dropped your hair, looking around at the other houses. They were quiet, due to everyone still being asleep. If Daryl hadn't stayed the night, you would probably still be in bed. But you woke up to Daryl, who hadn't slept a wink, due to his stress levels. The whole whisperer thing had him on edge, and it only got worse when Lydia came into the picture. Daryl had been just fine only caring for the people he kept close to him, people who he had known for years. But then came Lydia, who was just a kid. He had needed out; out of Hilltop where Lydia and Henry were. You were his safe space, somewhere he knew he could always go to.

Feeling weight being added to his shoulder, he turned, listening as you whispered into the crisp morning air, almost like talking normally would wake everyone, or disturb the peaceful space of the porch. "She's a good kid. She just doesn't know any better. Alpha, her own mother only taught her survival. It's not Lydia's fault, you know that. Give her time."

"Might not have time." He couldn't help but grumble. He knew you were right, Lydia is a kid. She only knows survival. To an extent, Daryl could relate to her. You lifted your head, looking over his face,

"Maybe, but I have a strong hunch that you have enough time to go wash the stench off of you." Your nose scrunched again, more animated than before.

Daryl rolled his eyes before standing. You watched him as he walked to the door, flipping you off before the door shut behind him. A heavy sigh exited your lips when you knew he was gone.

It had been a little over two days since you last saw Daryl. It's not like you were worried. He could hold his own. Atleast, he could before people who wore the dead's faces were among everyone.

That might have you on edge. Or it might be the fact that he had the thing that Alpha wanted, making him become an even bigger target.

Your fingers divided your hair, twisting it into the same braid from before. Your mind was elsewhere, hands moving without a second thought.

The house that you occupied in Alexandria was quiet. Too quiet. You had grown comfortable with the usual silence, since Daryl had left in search of Rick.

The house you once shared turned into yours, with Daryl only visiting. He never stayed for long. Maybe it was the memories, or something that you had no knowledge of. Either way, you weren't going to push him.

Men like Daryl, once they're pushed too far, they leave. It's like their fight or flight goes off. You weren't one to push.

When Daryl and the little gorup found Lydia, Daryl had to escape for the night, going straight to the familiar house. He had told you everything about the Whisperers and Lydia, how they had killed Jesus. Although her group had killed someone who you could rely on, you pitied Lydia. The moment between you two was short-lived when morning came. After he had taken a shower, he was on his way back. Your time together wasn't much, but it was something. Given the circumstances, it was enough for both of you.

A knock at your door had your trailing thoughts stop, along with your hands. You were quick to tie the braid up, before moving to the door. Daryl stood, shoulders sunk in, along with the bags under his eyes, blood coating his hands. Your eyes met, relief, from seeing him mixed with the concern from seeing the dried blood, ran through your back.

Daryl stood against the kitchen sink, scrubbing his hands together, watching as the water turned red before flowing down the drain. "Henry's hurt." Was the first thing he had uttered since you opened the door, letting him in.

You perked up from where you were perched against the counter, having been watching his movements. "How bad?" He shook his head, letting you know it wasn't life or death, without saying a word.

"Here was closer to get him stitched up. Lydia's with us."

Your eyes traveled over his face, looking for any sign of how he felt about that, and maybe even a hint of how much shit you were all in.

"She's a kid." He sighed, turning the water off as he used your same words from before.

You nodded, hoping he knew that he didn't have to explain himself to you. You trusted him and his instinct.

Now night time, you walked with Daryl and his little group as they got ready to leave. Aaron insisted on walking with you, staying with Daryl as you were in step with Henry and Lydia.

You tried to ask questions that were easy for her to answer, questions that didn't revolve around how she had grown up. Questions that made her feel human, not just a piece in the game of survival.

As your conversation drew to an end, you listened in to Aaron and Daryl, " 'Member way back when I told you, you'd make a great father?" Your eyes traveled to the gravel under you. "You got to skip the exploding diapers part, but I was right."

Henry and Lydia tried to contain their own little conversations, hiding their smiles and blushing from the other. Just two teenagers acting as normal as two teenagers could in the broken world.

Daryl grumbled, "A lot has changed." You felt eyes boring into your back but didn't look. You smiled as you felt Dog rub against your legs, begging for attention. Would you and Daryl be able to be happy in a world like this?

"I stand before you today at the start of a new tomorrow. A tomorrow made possible by the sacrifices of many over the years." After a long ride to the kingdom, you stood amongst the crowd, watching as Ezekiel stood on the balcony, giving one of his infamous speeches.

"Among them, a man whose mission was to build community and strengthen the bonds between us. A man who had to destroy the very thing that connected us in order to save us. It took far too long to fulfill the promise of what Rick Grimes and his son, Carl, envisioned, the same promise Paul Rovia, better known to most as "Jesus", believed in when he brought us all together those many years ago. We always will be. We fought our way back to each other. We have grown. The crossing over the river may be gone, but we have rebuilt a bridge, nonetheless. Today is proof we can unite, not against a common enemy, but for the common good. So eat, drink, and be merry...'cause we got a lotta lost time to make up for."

Jerry stepped forward, a huge grin on his face, "Let the First Annual Inter-Community Reunification Fair begin!"

"Jerry!"

Jerry swung around, looking up at the King.

"We changed that."

"For reals? F. A. I. R. Fair?"

Ezekiel sighed, leaning over the railing to stare down, "It's too many-nevermind. Let the Fair of New Beginnings begin!"

Applause broke out through the crowd, doves being released into the air.

Tara, who stood beside you, nudged your shoulder, directing your attention to the gate of the Kingdom. The gates opened, revealing Michonne-who was set on not coming to the fair-with Judith, Daryl, Connie, Henry, and Lydia in tow.

Your feet moved before you even thought about it, and you were in front of Daryl before you knew it. He opened his arms, welcoming the warmth of your arms around him.

Sure, you had seen him not that long ago, but being apart from him became even scarier over the week. Daryl swayed from side to side, before you pulled away slightly.

Carol came over when you two had fully broken apart, bringing her best friend into her arms.

You smiled, watching the two. After she teased him, she watched as you moved back under his arm, laughing when your lips collided with his cheek, watching Daryl grow shy, his ears turning a pink hue.

"C'mon, I heard there's a fair or something happening." You winked at Ezekiel, as he joined in on watching the two of you, throwing his arm around Carol.

It only took about 15 minutes before the fun was cut short.

"You just got here." you sighed, utterly frustrated. You couldn't have one day that was slightly normal. Somebody always had to be a threat. It just happens to be Alpha's group.

"Hilltop's in danger."

"I know,” You huffed, kicking the asphalt under your feet, stopping when Daryl halted, reaching down to pet Dog's head. "I just think you deserve to have fun too. Or at least let me go with you."

He instantly shook his head, standing at his full height. His eyes slightly squinted as he looked at you, "'T's too dangerous, you know that."

"Exactly. You need more people and you know i'm a good shot." You cracked a smile, trying to ease the tension. Daryl looked away, hiding his slight amusement. "At least be safe." Your voice was serious, almost threatening. Unwinding your arms, letting them fall to your sides, as he finally looked back. "I mean it, Dixon." He puffed air out, before bringing you into a side hug. You two stood by the gate, not caring as people walked past, trying to get ready to leave with Daryl.

The hug was warm- comforting, too bad you don't get the luxury often. "You too." His gruff voice was muffled in your hair, followed by a dry kiss on your forehead. "Can you take care of Dog for me?" He pulled back, already knowing your answer.

You only got a single nod in before Carol walked over, an apologetic smile on her face about the whole thing; having to interrupt to hint that it was time to go and having to cut your time together short.

Saddiq grunted as Michonne rushed over to his pitiful body. His tired eyes reluctantly raised to look at the people following behind her. As he saw Daryl, the pain felt fresh, like all the wounds were pulled open and dirt was shoved into them. He shook his head, trying to get the picture of your last moment out of his head. Your screams of agony rang in his head. What you made him promise rang even louder. He could only cough when the makeshift gag was ripped from his mouth, waiting as Michonne cut his hands free. "What happened?" Michonne asked.

Saddiq could only point, words dying on his tongue. "I-I..." He stumbled with his feet as much as his words. Michonne held most of his body weight as he tried leading them to the hill.

Michonne's face dropped in horror, as they walked closer, close enough to realize exactly what was in front of them, close enough to identify the heads on the spikes.

All it took was for the wind to pick up, causing the braid to sway in the wind, for Daryl to feel the world stop on its axis. He could only watch as your mouth moved, biting and nipping at the air like a feral animal.

Something that would haunt him forever, the hunger for human flesh taking over the one person he couldn't live without. As you began to let out a growl, he had to turn his head, looking anywhere. He couldn't take the sight, feeling his stomach churn.

You were just in his arms, smiling at him, joking around, wanting to spend the time at the fair with him.

His eyes caught a head of blond hair, his body moving before he could think twice. "No! No!" His hands attached themselves to Carol's shoulders, frantically trying to conceal the gruesome picture before them that would surely give him nightmares, if he was even able to sleep. "Just look at me." His voice broke, but continued to repeat himself.

He watched as her lips pursed, before they began trembling, feeling his own emotions breaking through the comfort-others-before-yourself facade.

His body slowly collapsed with hers, his hold on her not faltering. If he held her tight enough, he might be able to feel the warmth you always radiated in his arms.

Maybe it was selfish to try to find comfort of his own while he was comforting her, but he couldn't help himself. Who was going to comfort him? You?

Daryl wasn't one to cry much, but he felt his eyes begin to burn. Before either of them knew it, their tears mixed together on Daryl's clothes as his grip tightened even more.

"I was there. I was taken with the others. And I saw...I was supposed to die with them. I was ready to." Saddiq stood on the podium, looking out at the crowd of mixed communities, all of which had lost someone dear to them. "Then, Alpha whispered in my ear, "Tell them." Something hit me and everything went black. And when I woke up, I was alone." The image of you, tears and blood dried on your face as you laid lifeless. "What happened was evil."

Daryl stood in the very back of the crowd, arms crossed. His own thoughts ran wild, so many 'what if's. What if he had stayed? What if he had let you go with him? What if, what if, what if... Daryl tuned out the rest of the speech, only zoning back in when he felt a shaky hand on his shoulder.

"Y/n..." Saddiq did everything in his power to not let his voice shake, but it was useless. He forced himself to keep eye contact ashe now stood in front of Daryl, feeling like he at least owed that, even if his eyes were glossy and his nerves were shot. Daryl had to know. He had to know Saddiq was honest and kept his word to you. "She fought. Hard." The shaky man shook his head.

-flashback-

Siddiq looked around, at the old barn, at the people who stood around wearing the dead’s faces, at his friends and family kneeled down, gagged and tied up.

You stared at the people standing, a fire behind your eyes, that Saddiq had never seen before. He couldn’t recall you even blinking.

As Saddiq watched for you to blink at least once, your eyes shifted from the person you were staring down, to behind them.

It was only a split second before the person you had been staring at was hit in the back of the head.

Ozzy, Alek, and DJ yelled as they swung at each and every masked person. You weren’t sure who untied you, but you didn't have time to see. You were on your feet, punching the closest whisperer to you, picking up the knife that had fallen out of their hands.

Everything turned into a massacre.

You stabbed and swung and stabbed some more. Hearing a yell, you swung around on your feet, grabbing the person holding Enid down, before you grabbed by the back of their shirt, your hands moving fast and with force as the knife punctured the chest repeatedly.

Blinded by rage, you moved on adrenaline.

Large hands grabbed your shoulders, yanking you off of the dead body. You could only watch as a new group of Whispers amerged, and charged at what was left of your group.

Alpha stood in front of you, inspecting you. She moved her hand to your hair, her grin making your blood boil. “Beautiful hair. Shame I have to keep it on your head.” The image of her flashed in your head. The blonde hair, of which you now knew wasn’t real, or wasn’t her actual hair. The thought of her cutting it off of someone made you sick.

She tsked, turning when she saw one of her own push someone into the dirt, their knife raised to strike.

“Stop.” All eyes, including your own, were watching the scene play out. Alpha’s eyes scanned the small barn, bodies littering the ground. “They’re the last two.”

The hands tightened on your arms, but you weren't about to show weakness, not over a few bruises being made. One hand moved to hold you still, as another brought a blade to your neck.

Your nostrils flared, watching as Alpha dragged Saddiq right in front of you, although it didn’t take much force with how his body ached, before she held a knife to his throat too.

“What do you think; should we let them decide who should die?” Alpha’s words were directed to the man behind you.

Your eyes caught sight of Tara, who laid limp on the ground, blood dripping from her mouth. Clenching your jaw, you looked past Saddiq, straight into Alpha’s soul, or lack thereof, anyway. “Now," Alpha pointed at you, “You’re Daryl’s. I watched you this morning.” You felt the grip on you tighten even more at the mention of Daryl’s name. “You’re loved by everyone— is he?”

She shifted her crazed eyes to the back of Saddiq’s head. When she didn’t get an answer, she put pressure on the knife, drawing blood.

“Fine!” you croaked, “Fine, kill me. Please, he-he’s important. More than me. Please.”

You turned your attention to the man holding you, “Daryl, he said he beat your ass. Told me all about it. You want to hurt him back, right?” You knew you were playing a dangerous game, but you just hoped they would take it out on you, not Daryl or Saddiq.

Beta growled, his breath becoming erratic, as he looked at Alpha for any signal. He could make one quick move and break your neck, but you knew Alpha wanted you to suffer. She wouldn’t let him have all the fun.

It had to be you. Saddiq had a baby on the way. Rosita had told you, and made you promise to keep it on the down low. He was a doctor, he could save lives without thinking twice about it. Carl died for him.

There was a long moment of silence, only the angry hot breath fanning over your head, before you were thrown to the ground, hands tied behind your back again. Alpha made everyone leave, dragging Beta out as he shook in anger, ready to pounce.

When the two were out of earshot, you stared Saddiq down. He began shaking his head, “You can’t-”

“Yes. Yes, I can, Saddiq. Rosita needs you.” The baby needs you, especially in this world. “You have to tell Daryl that none of this was his fault. I know him, he’s going to blame himself and pull away.”

You licked your lips, feeling the dryness and small cracks in the skin. Maybe it was selfish to ask that of him, but it was the only thing you could think of in the moment. You didn’t want your last moments to be thinking of how Daryl will pull away, like he always did when he lost someone. He wouldn’t have you to help him out of it. “Tell him I wouldn't blame him for anything that happened tonight. Please, Saddiq. Please promise me. Just…make sure he’s not so hard on himself. Please-”

A gunshot rang out, followed by your screams. You fell onto your side, blood oozing from the wound on your shoulder. Saddiq’s head swung to where the bullet had come from, Alpha walking back in, handing the gun to Beta as he followed her. Whatever conversation they had had outside left Alpha fuming.

Another scream ripped through your throat when Alpha brought her foot up, putting weight on your open wound. “Why are you so willing to die for him?” She seethed.

“‘Cause that’s what you do for family, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Angry tears welled in your eyes as you stared up at her from the weird angle.

Your next words were directed to Saddiq, as if you knew what was going to happen next. “ Tell Daryl I love him.”

It all happened so quick. Alpha leaned down, her other hand holding a knife as it dragged across the soft skin of your neck. Your hands fought to move to the blood flowing out of your neck, but were bound behind you. Your mouth moved like a fish out of water, until blood coated the inside of your mouth, painting your teeth red.

Saddiq watched the life drain from your eyes, his brain blank. He felt numb. Alpha walked back over to him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. Before he knew it, everything went black.

“-She wanted you to know that she loved you. I could tell she did. I’m sorry it's not her standing in front of you.” Daryl didn’t reply, much like how he hadn’t uttered a word since Saddiq began talking about you, about your last moment. He walked away, leaving a teary-eyed Saddiq.

The wind was chilly as Daryl and Lydia walked up the hill to where Daryl felt the word stop. The spikes still stood, a reminder that that was Alpha’s territory now.

Darl looked away from Lydia as she kneeled in front of the spike, where Henry’s head had been. He let her have a moment.

“She’s just a kid.” Your voice rang out in his head, a reminder that she was a kid, dealing with the loss of someone who she cared for and who cared for her. Sounds familiar.

His eyes caught sight of the familiar spike, glaring at it with all the hatred in his heart. Blood had soaked in and dried to the wood. Your blood.

He hated the world even more. He hated Alpha, Beta, the fucking whisperers, and he wanted to hate you for being so selfless, but he couldnt get himself to. Most of all, he hated himself for going against your last wish. The guilt would eat him from the inside out and he would let it.

He felt like he deserved it.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

People who wanted to be tagged: @vaniniweenie @sassysebastian20

[nameless-jamie]

PR Disaster

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Jamie Tartt was a nightmare to work for on an average day. But on a day when he was desperate? He was unbearable.

Y/N had spent the last twenty minutes trying to get through her emails while Jamie sat across from her desk, relentlessly attempting to convince her to do something insane.

“Come on, love,” Jamie pleaded, drumming his fingers on her desk. “It’s just one night. Just a little thing. Barely even a date.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend at a charity gala.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

Jamie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/N, you have to.”

“Oh, I have to?” She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "M'not getting paid for this so I don't have to do shit, Jamie."

"Don't be difficult, babe. I beg you!"

“Let me get this straight. You, a fully grown man, need a date to some fancy event, and instead of—I don’t know—asking out one of the many women who throw themselves at you, you come to me, your freaking assistant?”

He sighed dramatically. “I can’t take some random girl. That’d make it worse.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Worse than what?”

Jamie slouched lower in his chair and sighed. “Some wanker journalist wrote a whole article about how I’ve ‘lost my edge’ since I’ve been single. Said my game’s sufferin’ ‘cause I’m too ‘unfocused.’” He made air quotes, looking deeply offended. “He said I'm too horny for the pitch or some shit. Like, I can’t be single and good at football at the same time. It’s bullshit.”

“That does sound like bullshit.”

“Right?"

"Too horny for the pitch, is my favorite thing anyone has ever said about you, though." Y/N laughed, wiping a small tear out of the corner of her eye.

"Y/N be fucking for real right now. The plan is, if I show up with a girlfriend, it shuts everyone up. And if I take you, it don’t get messy. No expectations. No awkward post-date texts. Just you lookin’ dead fit in a fancy dress and me lookin’ like a man not in the middle of a public downward spiral.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’ve thought way too much about this?”

Jamie grinned. “Because I have.”

She exhaled slowly, staring at him for a long moment. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Best ones usually are.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

"And if the press wants us to kiss it wouldn't be awkward because we already did that once!"

"Jamie, that is still a fucking accident. We don't talk about that!"

"I mean I want to talk about it—" Jamie couldn't finish that sentence before a pen was thrown his way.

"Pick me up at 7. Go away now!"

The night started when he picked her up for the gala, in a freaking stretch limousine.

Y/N opened her door.

Jamie’s brain short-circuited.

She stood there in a dress that was so—fuck. It was tight in all the right places, dipping low at the neckline, hugging her waist like it was personally designed to ruin his life. Her legs? Glorious. The slit in her dress? Criminal. Her makeup? Perfect.

He actually forgot how to breathe.

Y/N tilted her head. “Jamie?”

He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to speak. “Huh?”

Her lips twitched. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking like a fucking teenager. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, you look—” He gestured vaguely at her, struggling to find a word that wasn’t fuckable. “Good. Nice. Decent.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Decent?”

Jamie winced. Fuckin’ idiot. “Nah, not decent. I meant, like, proper good. Like, unfairly good. Like—fuck, what’s the word—illegal?”

She laughed, and Jamie swore it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Well, that’s good to know,” she teased. “Considering I’m supposed to be your date.”

Right. The fake date. The one that wasn’t real. The one where he definitely wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how he wanted to keep her locked in his car all night so no one else could look at her.

Jamie exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Get it together, Tartt.

Y/N gave him a knowing smile. “You ready to go?”

Jamie didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he just opened the car door for her, staring straight ahead as she got in—because if he looked for even a second longer, there was a very real chance he’d be showing up to the gala with a boner.

And that was definitely not part of the plan.

Y/N soon realized that the problem wasn’t the gala.

The problem was Jamie.

Because he was apparently way too good at fake dating.

For someone who was supposedly just trying to fix his reputation, he seemed very committed to the role.

He kept his hand on the small of her back all night, his thumb moving in slow circles against the fabric of her dress like it was second nature. He leaned in close every time he spoke to her, his breath warm against her ear. And worst of all, he kept looking at her like that. Like she was the only person in the room.

He also seemed to be having the time of his life making up a fake relationship history.

“Oh, yeah,” he told an interviewer from The Athletic. “She played hard to get at first, but I wore her down.”

“She pretends to be annoyed by me,” he added later, “but really? She’s obsessed.”

Y/N had to bite her tongue multiple times to avoid strangling him.

But then came the real kicker.

“She makes me a better man. I mean fuck— have you looked at her. She is not going to her own flat tonight, am I right love?”

Y/N nearly choked on her champagne.

What the fuck was he playing at?

She was fully prepared to murder him the second they got into the car.

But before she could, the event photographer asked them to pose for a picture, and—

Jamie pulled her in, his hand sliding around her waist, fingers brushing the bare skin at her side.

Her breath hitched.

And then—

Jamie fucking winked.

The camera flashed.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, a journalist called out:

“Jamie! One more shot—how about a kiss for the cameras?”

She froze.

Jamie, however, seemed thrilled by the idea.

“Oh, yeah?” He turned to her, smirking. “What d’you reckon, love? Give the people what they want?”

She stared at him, genuinely considering murder.

But the cameras were waiting. The journalists were watching. And it's not like it would be their first one...

Jamie—the absolute menace—was already leaning in, his lips curling into something dangerously close to a real smile.

She had two options: make it awkward as hell by shutting it down, or commit to the bit.

FUCK, she was his freaking assistant. And she's totally into him. But that wasn't important right now. If she did not kiss him the press would know that Jamie Tartt brought a fake date or worse they would think that his own girlfriend hates him. If she kisses him though, the PR disaster after that would fucking suck.

Fuck it. With a deep breath, she reached up, placed her hand on his chest, and let Jamie close the distance between them.

It was barely a kiss—a soft press of lips, just enough to make it convincing. But Jamie’s hand tightened on her waist, just for a second, and her fingers curled against the fabric of his suit before she forced herself to pull away.

The cameras loved it.

Jamie did too, judging by the way he looked at her afterward.

“Not bad, love,” he murmured, his lips still inches from hers. “Please tell me that one was an accident too. Or else I might have to take you home with me tonight.”

She just rolled her eyes and shoved him. Idiot.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to absolute chaos.

Her phone had exploded.

Twitter was going insane.

She clicked on the first headline that popped up.

"Jamie Tartt Goes Public With Stunning Mystery Girlfriend at Charity Gala—And We Have ALL the Details"

She scrolled down, her horror growing with every paragraph.

"From the way he looked at her to the way he kept a protective hand on her waist all night, Jamie Tartt was absolutely smitten. Sources tell us that he was completely devoted to her the entire evening, barely paying attention to anyone else. And let's not forget the viral moment when he told reporters, 'She makes me a better man.' Our hearts? Melted."

“Oh, for fuck sake. I knew it.”

She stormed into Nelson Road, phone in hand. “Jamie fucking Tartt!”

Jamie, who had been laughing with Dani, turned at the sound of her voice. “Mornin’, love.”

She marched up to him and shoved her phone in his face. “Do you know how many people think we’re actually together?”

He barely glanced at the screen before shrugging. “Yeah. Bit mad, innit?”

“Mad? Mad?” She scrolled further. “People are already speculating about a wedding! I just got an email from Vogue asking if we’d do a couples photoshoot and a fucking interview!”

Jamie grinned. “Vogue, yeah? That’s kinda sick. Let’s do it. I can tell ‘em about how you snore when you fall asleep on the couch.”

“I do not snore.” She gaped at him. “Jamie. This is not funny.”

“Babe, you do,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, "And it’s a little funny.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You love me, remember? You make me a better man.”

“You fucking prick. You even liked a post that said, ‘Jamie Tartt and his girlfriend are the it couple of the season’!”

Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause we are.”

Her jaw dropped. “We are not.”

Jamie tilted his head, a playful glint in his eye. “You sure about that, love?”

She refused to answer.

Jamie must’ve noticed her hesitation because he leaned in, dropping his voice. “Just say the word, and I’ll post a proper ‘soft launch’ photo of us on Instagram.”

She shoved him away.

But later, when she caught him scrolling through a fan edit of them kissing with that smug little smile, she had the sinking suspicion that Jamie had no intention of letting this fake relationship die anytime soon.

And worse?

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to. She had to clear the air, though...And the PR of all of it was going to be a fucking disaster.

[omgfangirlland]

I've been reading about supernatural reader having a toddler with Dean. And I propose that her and Dean a child, though magic like supernatural reader, can't have a baby naturally for one reason or another so her and Dean make a baby using magic. I feel like it would add another layer to Anxious Dad Dean

(I'm assuming this is all one anon, and I didn't read this through, so sorry for any mistakes)

I'm such a big fan of neglected reader or just batsis in general looking like Martha y'all don't even know- I also have to get this out of my brain before I continue answering:

Reader: I'll get you a baby.

Dean, thinking this is some next level flirting and is shocked you spoke it with Sammy around: *stumbles in incoming traffic*

And the alternative:

Reader: I'll get YOU pregnant.

Dean: Promise?

I can get behind this-

So I have two thoughts- "amazonian" baby girl made from clay and "demon" baby boy gifted by Crowley with a hellhound as a bonus protector.

What I'm saying is twins. I have settled on twins.

The thought would start with Dean cuddling you in bed or on a couch, slightly drunk, after running around with the baby of the family y'all saved that day. Maybe a little jab from you along the lines of him looking nice with a baby on his hip, and him just straight up saying he'd love to have a baby with you, maybe five and a big wedding- "And one of those ugly dogs that the kids will get mad at me for calling it ugly".

And while he falls asleep with no worries, it keeps you awake.

Thinking it through- it was a nice thought. Having a family, a loving one and proving to both of your fathers that you can do so much better. But that was a conversation to happen while sober.

And it definitely happened when Bobby and Crowley were present, and whether they thought it'll be a nice gift or whether they wanted their kids happy (You can't get Dad!Bobby even from my cold dead hands, and I also think Crowley would get attached to you purely because of the zero filter you have) they get their kids a kid-

Well, a kid each. They both thought they had an original idea, alas, they did not. Bobby pulled out an old magic book of Amazonian rituals, and Crowley finally cashes in a "first born" contract and takes a pup so the kid(s) will be protected whenever and wherever.

Now- Dean didn't cry- but he was teary the whole time he held the two(and hissed at Sam when he tried to take one of the kids, honestly, he barely let you hold them, the compromise was you sitting on his lap and holding the kids while he had you three wrapped in his arms). You both were terrified.

Mainly due to the fear of turning into your fathers, but also- you now had two little creatures who despite not needing to be as baby proofed as a human baby, were still fragile little things that needed the best- Sam wasn't sure where all the money came for but when he asked you just smile and said vengeance(Crowley stole a few cards from Bruce and gave one to you).

You, after Dean handed you a blanket: No. Texture is nasty.

Dean, throwing the blanket at Sam who was pulling two carts filled with toys, clothes, 30 different types of baby food and formula milk, dog stuff, and books for the baby and parenting tips for both of you: The texture is nasty, Sammy, we need something better!

Sammy, tired from Dean's constant doubting of everything and anything in this store: I will teach your kids to bite you- (he did teach the kids to bite Dean on command and to give you kisses on another command)

----

Dean, face scrunched as he tastes all the baby food they got: Who thought green beans mixed with banana is a good baby flavor?... Who thought apple, squash and zucchini is?!

You, mixing something in a bowl: Banana and biscuits mush. Very good for adults too. (to this day I eat this, it's such a good munch but fair warning- it can be a texture nightmare for some)

----

You're a more relaxed parent, but you hold the kids more, while Dean takes the "check on the babies every hour to make sure they're breathing" type of parenting- helicopter dad? idk man is stressed and worried 24/7- He chills once they enter toddler stage, but his eyes are always on them to make sure they don't smash their heads against the floor (he's thought a few times during the walking stage to just put the rascals in helmets and rugby padding)

I, personally, would think Morgana or Cersei would be amazing for the baby girl and while I'd itch to name the kid after a prince of hell, I fear Dean would be too superstitious about it- so Lucian, Acheron or Anwir would be something he better agrees with.

Now, the kids are both mischievous once they start walking and talking- not in the brat type of way, but in the trickster "mom said only a cookie but if we entertain dad or uncle Sammy enough we can manipulate them into giving us seconds" type of way. And while the baby girl is the planner of the mischief, the baby boy is the emotional manipulator aka the one who lies better(I also think the boy took after you, quiet and looking more like the Wayne part of the fam but with Dean's eyes while the girl is Dean with your eyes.)

The quote marks around the amazonian and demon are there for a reason- they're not exactly that, but show signs of powers/inclinations. The baby girl has better reflexes than either of you and is more resilient but not to the point WW and Donna are, and the baby boy is more supernatural inclined, senses/sees ghosts and demons in their true forms, is allergic to holy water but not to the point it burns, just a mild itch.

So, coming back to Bruce and his parents seeing the babies, Like I said, Bruce would pass out seeing you with one kid, two of them? Heart failure. Add to that that you look like Martha when the light hits you one way(and he has flashbacks to when his mom died) while looking like his ex wife when the light hits the other way- and little toddler man looks eerily like him- the man is not okay. And the poor baby girl looking like the jobless, national terrorist you found in a ditch(his thoughts not mine)- but that's fine grandpa Bruce is in business- What do you mean you don't want him in your babies lives?

Yeah, he's delusional, not even a bit, straight up thinks he can tell you to leave Dean and you will come back and live here with the kids. Remember when I said Sam will throw hands? Dean will jump across the coffee table before he can. (Martha is cheering him on, but shh. Thomas is just too busy cooing at the young kids to care)

It hurt more coming from you than if the men(he refuses to acknowledge either Sam or Dean) were to call him a deadbeat who could barely be called a sperm donor.

Dick will have an existential crisis with Jason because now they're officially old™️and have niblins, and I think the info will break Damian in the Damian.exe has stopped working way, lil man just can't process that he's an uncle. The rest won't really be affected beyond being sad that they can't see them irl, just in the video the cameras captured.

Bruce in a moment of stupidity would probably try to go the cps route but like- he doesn't know where the fuck you're at, and John C. sure as hell ain't telling him- "Nope, not fucking with people protected by Angels and Demons, you bellend. Lie in the bed you made."

The whole fam learns that what the police records say isn't the full truth, but they still don't deem the Winchesters as good people to be around- and Bruce is really only raising his tension by watching the few CCTV records of Dean slow dancing with you to some old rock music while Sam naps in the booth with the babies, kissing you like you're the most important person in his life- like even then he was mocking Bruce.

Peepaw Crowley starts fucking with the family when he finds out the shit they tried to pull by hitting where he knows they'd be the most inconvenienced at- the businesses, both vigilante and day business.

[finalgirlmorgue]

🍵༘PANCAKES🥯⊹ ࣪ ˖

„⤵ MILD ANGST and fluff! „⤵ 2 / (?) PARTS „⤵ JASON TODD X READER Jason is getting settled in his new home, after showing up at your door last night. Jason is a dead man walking, but he still needs you. Read PT 1 here! AFFECTION ROTS Reblogs much appreciated

The two of you eventually found the couch. You sat next to him, putting a throw pillow's distance between the two of you. Much to his disappointment. Jason was more clingy then he had ever been before. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. A few hours passed. You had both fallen asleep sometime after midnight. That morning he explained everything as best as he could to you, his death at the hands of the joker, the crowbar, the ressurection. Despite the granted confusion you followed as best you could. He told you everything. Everything that happened from the moment he died. He really missed you, despite the two of you being dumb in love teeangers. He still saw a future with you, and you were wary to admit you weren't sure you saw the same. He was diffrerent. Bigger, taller, stronger. And somehow more alive, than anything before. “I'm sorry." You managed to say. You felt like such a coward. You couldn't handle touching him, or holding his hand.

“I can't blame you. It'll take some time." He said sadly. You could see in his eyes that he was blaming himself. "You're doing great… I really am proud of you. Just wish we could've done all this… together, y'know?" he said the last part quietly, almost a whisper. You looked down, unable to hold eye contact.

"Things are a little bit different now. You know that right? I can't change my past. Even though I'd like to." You spoke slowly. "You know, it's gonna take some time. I don't regret our relationship. Never have."

”You're serious, huh?" he raised an eyebrow. It was nearly commical. You were devestating him with every word you spoke. "I wanted us to do this forever, you know? Like… forever. You've always been on my mind.. guess I should've known things weren't gonna stay the same. You're not fifteen anymore.." he mumbled.

He had a faraway look in his eye. You wondered how much of this story he had clearly made up inside his mind depended on you reciprocating his tender feelings. But you knew this was his way of trying to comfort you, despite his broken soul. He would give you time… "Do you remember our first date?" He suddenly asked. He smiled shyly, looking down at his lap. The image came unbidden to your mind, vivid and perfect. You remembered how much effort he put into planning. He was more thorough then any man. He was attentive, and a good listener. So why were you hesitant..? Maybe it was his dependency. “Um. Yes I remember- Um.. do you want breakfast?.." You said weakly, standing up and turning towards the kitchen, leaving him to his own thoughts. "I can make us something quick…" You heard him sigh in disappointment. When you finally turned around again, his elbows were on his knees. He was curled into himself. You knew he was trying to be strong. But it was hard to admire his strengths when he looked so pitiful.. It broke your heart. "I'm making pancakes.. Do you want some? They're grainy but- edible." You offered hesitantly.

“Yeah.. sounds good.” His voice cracked. He didn’t have a good relationship with food. After the truama of his death and even before that with the joker, he hadn’t been hungry at all. He never wanted food.. and when he did it threw it up promptly. Food always felt unsafe to him. And that included food cooked by you.. which seemed ironic, because he would have worshipped the ground beneath you if you asked him to.

He wondered if he watched the whole process of cooking from start to finish if he would feel better about it. He could trick his brain into understanding he was safe.

“God you’re so gorgeous..” He sighed. “I’m tired of falling for you all over again… s’not fair. Why can’t I have you?” You paused, setting the pan on the stove as it heated up. Melting the butter into a bubbly golden liquid. There was no denying he had changed a lot. He went from 4”6 to an even 6 foot. You could see the stretch marks that painted his hips whenever he lifted his arms up. Despite your ‘disinterest’ in him romantically, you would still take small peeks and glances whenever his shirt rode up, revealing some of the new muscle he had gained.

His sudden growth wasn’t unwelcome, it was just shocking that he had grown that much within the span of a few years. Especially considering he had always been smaller than you.

But you had accepted his advances with only halfhearted interest. Even if he was a handsome behemoth of a man today. But it was hard to deny the fact that when he looked at you like he did now, you felt a lingering warmth.

He hadn’t lost his charm. He still knew how to make you blush and smile. But maybe you were too afraid of losing what you shared with him.. again..

As you began making the pancake mix he kept his gaze trained on you and the food. He was obviously enthralled with it.. “I like strawberries.” He smiled softly, watching you work through the recipe. He’d always loved watching you cook. It reminded him of home.. it was vaguely reminiscent of Alfred. Even if he hated the Waynes he still missed having a family. “They remind me of you.” He continued. “Those soft, shiny pinkish red ones…” You nodded along to his words. He was always so sentimental.. “They smell like spring.” He added, smiling slightly. You felt yourself relax at his words. He could be sweet sometimes, despite the fact he was now, 10x his size, strength, and power. He was probably better at a lot of things now, you didn’t want to know what he would do to any of the failed relationships you had in your contacts still... But it was clear he still had that innocent side that you once loved. Jason was like weathered plastic in the garden, his old self was fading, but the spots where the sunlight hadn’t burned away the old Jason todd were still as vibrant and tender as ever. He seemed happier than usual too. His cheeks had begun to lighten up again, his skin seemed to glow from just having seen you again.

The food was ready, and you brought him over to the table. “I’m not an amazing cook, but I hope it’s okay….” You handed him the fork. He was silent for a while, staring at the plate in front of him.

“I uh.. I’m usually not so good with food but this does look really good I promise. It feels like I constantly have the flu. My mind is all fucking broken.."

"You deserve a break." You said, sitting opposite of him across the table. Your fingers intertwined tightly with your own beneath the table, under the table. You tried to suppress your nerves. He needed comfort and support now, you couldn't give him more. "You're here.. With me.. That's something." You said, trying to encourage him.

“I still want you. So bad..” He mumbled. His fork clinked against his plate as he set it down gently. You took a deep breath. You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t ready to talk about your problem with the matter of your relationship. You just wanted him to eat, and try to get better..

“Jason-“ You warned.

“Do you still love me?” He interrupted. He was trying to sound calm, but he was clearly agitated. The question threw you off guard. He looked at you with wide, desperate eyes. “Answer honestly. I need to know.” You hesitated.

“Yes.” You answered truthfully, not able to hide the hurt on your face.

“You don’t even want to touch me…” he muttered dejectedly.

“You died- I was at your funeral.. I don’t understand how your here right now..” you said firmly. “I’m just… confused, ok? I thought I understood everything..” You were trembling. You knew he saw, he understood. You didn’t know how to deal with the guilt gnawing at your stomach.. You hated seeing him this upset. “I miss you..” he whispered, staring at you with pleading eyes.

You lowered your gaze and shook your head. “I’m sorry- you.. Do you have a place to stay?..”

“Are you kicking me out?..”

“Well no- but I feel bad for making you sleep on the couch.” You explained. “You’ve done nothing wrong.. I’m sorry… do you want to stay?”

He remained silent and slowly ate the food placed in front of him. His lips forming into a thin line. He looked exhausted. But he was eating the meal you had made, albeit reluctantly and very slowly. It took him about 20 minutes, as he finished every bite without looking up or saying a word.

“Yeah. I want to stay here for a bit.” He replied after he finished chewing. You nodded, relieved. He pushed back the chair and stood up. He looked exhausted.

“I’ll get you some blankets.” You said quietly, walking back to your room to bring some out to him. While searching your closet, you heard soft footsteps behind you. Your body froze for a split second. Just Jason.. Just Jason…. Then you relaxed. You pulled out two fluffy blankets. You walked back towards him, throwing them over his shoulders. He let out a content sigh at the warmth. “It smells like you…” he mused. He looked so at peace. Like you had injected life into him for the first time since he got here.

He grabbed one pillow from your bed and squeezed it. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft material against his skin. You couldn’t help but smile softly. He looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky. A sense of wonder and relief washing over his features. He turned to the doorway, making his way to the living room.

The television flickered dimly on your TV stand. Your DVD’s stacked high, mostly disney and other classics. “I love you so much..” he murmured, looking around your home.

“I…” You paused. “Know.. you do..” you trailed off, not knowing how else to respond. It felt weird hearing those words come from him. You spent nights hoping to hear those exact words just.. one more time. Hearing them now..

“Where were you?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming guilt weighing down your chest.

“Oh y’know…” He shrugged. “Just…” he laughed awkwardly before sitting down on the couch. “Just running around doing shit. Nothing serious.” He admitted. “But I was able to find you eventually. I actually used to sit in the parking lot and stare at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it..” he looked embarrassed to admit that, scratching the side of his jaw. You chuckled lightly at that image. “You should have seen it, though! I sat there until my legs went numb and then I finally decided to walk away because I felt kinda creepy sitting there watching like that..” He grinned, remembering how pathetic and childish it sounded. “But, I had to see you last night. I had to talk to you... See how you were...” He said, sadly. “God…I’m really messed up.” He sighed, dropping his gaze onto the floor. You frowned as you noticed his mood swing.

“I missed you too-… I’m glad you’re back, and I’m sorry I’m being so cold.” You apologised.

He gave you an understanding glance, “you can be pretty difficult to read these days.. I just.. I hope you can understand my intentions. I still want you.”

“Night Jay.” You stood up, attempting to run away from the topic. “I have class in the morning. I gotta get some sleep. I have a presentation coming up.” You walked towards the bedroom, but stopped. You didn’t want to leave him alone yet. What happened wasn’t fair. “I’ll be back around 12 or so.. tomorrow.”

“Goodnight baby.” He sighed, laying down on the couch. You smiled at his nickname.

He stayed sleeping in his makeshift bed the whole evening, until 4 am or so when he slipped out from the blankets and into your room. He was just getting up to check on you, but eventually it became him… getting a closer look.. getting in bed. and passing out next to you. These blankets were big enough to cover him completely, no cold feet. There was barely any distance between you.

“Night..” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He laid down facing away from you, but in his mind he was holding you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. ...

[unclewaynemunson]

@bigskyandthecoldgun made this very big-brained post about the perfect miscommunication potential of Eddie's heart monitor betraying his feelings for Steve while he's recovering. @mostrizzaward asked me to write it and how could I say no to that :D

The first time Steve sets foot in Eddie's hospital room is terrifying. Eddie is as pale as a dead man. He has dozens of wires attached to his body, that are connected to just as many machines and monitors displaying complicated graphs, all softly beeping at varying intervals. Everyone in the room talks in soft, grave voices and all the nurses and doctors have matching serious frowns on their faces.

But what seemed to be impossible happens on a dreary Wednesday afternoon in April: Eddie opens his eyes for the very first time since he passed out in Dustin's arms. Steve is at work when that happens, but rushes to the hospital as soon as he can, and suddenly Eddie's room seems a lot less terrifying than before. Because Eddie is grinning at him from his bed, even though he's still pale and weak. He's not only alive, he's awake. It's a goddamn miracle. His wide grin is familiar despite the big scar that has marred his cheek. Fuck, Steve doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words how much he missed that smile.

Eddie rasps his name as a greeting and Steve comes closer to the bed. But then, something weird happens.

The machines around Eddie's bed are still beeping, but there's less of them now. The electronic symphony of noises has been reduced to a duet of two different beep patterns that are clearly distinguishable from each other. And one of them speeds up rapidly when Steve leans over the bed in an awkwardly angled attempt to give Eddie a hug.

“You okay?” Steve asks, worried. He wonders if he should call for a nurse.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie mumbles. His eyes flash towards the monitor in question for a second and a blush creeps over his white cheeks. He seems ill at ease; Steve can't quite put his finger on it but there's something weirdly awkward about the whole thing. He seems otherwise fine, though, so Steve decides no nurses will be necessary.

He clears his throat and takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. For a moment, he wonders why he's even here. They weren't exactly friends before all of this happened. It would be perfectly normal for Eddie not to want him around – and yet here he is, visiting him in the hospital like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is he even doing here?

But then, Eddie starts talking about how his uncle was with him when he woke up and gave him this book he's been wanting to buy for ages.

“He cried, Steve, I've never seen him cry in my life, but he was bawling, I'm not kidding!”

Despite his animated tone, Eddie's voice is still weak and his eyes keep falling shut even while he is talking. Steve knows that he shouldn't overstay his welcome and let Eddie rest, but he finds himself too captivated in how alive Eddie is, even though his whole presence – his loud voice, his broad arm gestures, his expressive face – seems a little bit toned down. So when Eddie tells him with a vague gesture to his nightstand that he tried to read his new book, but found himself too tired to focus properly, Steve finds himself proposing to read it to Eddie before he even realizes what he's doing.

And then the weird thing happens again. Eddie starts smiling at the exact same time the heart monitor accelerates.

Steve chooses to pretend like he doesn't notice. Instead, he takes the book from the nightstand and flips it open on the first page. He starts reading aloud, but he can't really keep his attention on the words that come out of his own mouth. He can't help but feel like he made a mistake. Is the heart monitor signaling to him that his presence is making Eddie uncomfortable? Shouldn't he have left Eddie alone to rest when he started getting tired? Why the hell did he ever think it'd be a good idea to read to him in the first place? He's never been a good reader, and certainly not a performer like Eddie. So he awkwardly stumbles his way through the words on the pages, in no way able to keep up with the complicated plot and no doubt failing spectacularly in the use of voices and appropriately ominous pauses and whatnot. Whenever he glances up from the pages, he finds Eddie leaning into his pillow with his eyes closed and a faint smile around his lips, only to find out he's lost track of where he was when he directs his attention back to the book in his hands.

It doesn't take long until Eddie's breathing becomes audibly deeper and evens out. Steve softly closes the book. He allows himself a few moments to do nothing but stare at Eddie's face and be grateful for the absence of a breathing tube between his lips, showing that he's only sleeping this time. Then, he gets up and tiptoes out of the room.

***

The weird thing with the heart monitor keeps happening every time Steve visits Eddie. It happens when he greets him, when he starts reading to him, and especially whenever he helps him adjust his position in the bed he's still chained to. Every time they touch, every time Steve gets close to him in any way, like clockwork. And every time, it's paired with some kind of physical reaction on Eddie's part: a blush on his cheeks, a somewhat forced chuckle, or sometimes even a badly concealed flinch, away from where Steve's hands are touching Eddie.

Steve pretends not to notice it, for Eddie's sake, but it can only happen so many times before he has to face the clear and obvious truth here: his presence is making Eddie extremely uncomfortable.

One part of it still doesn't make sense, though: Eddie actually asks him to read to him or to help him sit up or lie down again, and the next thing he knows, Eddie will suddenly be avoiding his gaze and that goddamn heart monitor will make it sound like Eddie is trying to break a sprint record instead of lounging in his bed, and he'll recoil from Steve's touch like he doesn't want his hands anywhere around him.

Steve muses over Eddie's odd behavior for days before he comes to the only logical conclusion: Eddie is actually repulsed by him and is too polite to tell him the truth. It's the only explanation that makes sense. It's just like what Steve realized so clearly that first time after Eddie woke up: they weren't friends before this, so why should they be now? Steve has no business being at his bedside all of a sudden, and Eddie doesn't have the heart to be mean to him and spell that out for him.

He can't even blame Eddie for it. For most of the time they've known each other, Steve was a major asshole, everybody knows that. Sure, they're twenty now and Steve has moved past high school stereotypes when he got close to Robin, but still... Those stereotypes made up everything about who they were, how they were perceived and who they interacted with for four whole years of their lives – six even, in Eddie's case. Eddie doesn't have any reason to want to let that go like Steve did.

He would never admit it to anyone, but the conclusion he reaches breaks Steve's heart: he should stay away from Eddie. Eddie has every right not to like having Steve around and Steve certainly doesn't want to add to his discomfort. He has been through enough, Steve wouldn't want to make this whole long and painful process of recovery even worse for Eddie by imposing his unwanted presence on him.

It doesn't matter that Steve has started to look forward to his hospital visits like they're the very best part of his week. It doesn't matter that Steve's heart starts racing for whole other reasons than Eddie's whenever they're close, whenever they're touching or whenever Eddie is smiling that beautiful smile of his. It doesn't matter that Steve wants nothing more than to keep reading to Eddie even though he still doesn't have a clue what that stupid book is about. None of it matters, because that's simply the price one has to pay for being an asshole and a bully in high school.

It doesn't matter, because there are way worse things than the guy you've developed feelings for secretly harboring a grudge against you. He still has Robin, he still has his little nerds, he even has Nancy back; as a friend, this time, which is honestly better than things ever were between them. He has the knowledge that Eddie survived and will be getting better with each passing day. Maybe he can start dating again, find a cute girl with blue eyes and blonde hair who doesn't remind him of the one person he can't be around, and it'll all be fine again. It doesn't matter.

Update: there's now a sequel post :D

[greyyson-but-no]

yellow is the colour of his eyes

they weren't, though. they were blue, but somehow he radiated yellow. just his brightness, his ability to light up a room. he was the colour yellow. and he was currently halfway across the world from you. it didn't make any sense. you thought he was supposed to be the person you would end up with and yet, he was in a different continent and you were stuck at a desk in england working a job you hated.

why you had taken the job, you didn't know.

currently, you were sat at home, on the phone late at night because of a stupid time difference that meant you were never able to even talk to him. you thought living in a different apartment block was different, you never would have believed you would be trying to continue dating him when living in different countries. but the two of you were trying, and that's what was important. the act of trying.

his voice came through soft. "sweetheart? you still with me?"

bringing you out of your head, you grumbled and nodded even though he couldn't see you. "yeah. just about."

"what's the matter?" and he immediately knew something was wrong, just as he always did when you were just a five minute walk from his apartment. "you can tell me."

"i miss you? I think." you coughed away from the phone, nervous for what this conversation would lead to, what it might not lead to and the incorrect implications he may take from it. "I don't know. this is so difficult and I'm struggling so much. and yeah. it's nice to hear from you but it's getting rarer and rarer and I don't know how much longer I can do this for."

chandler hummed on the other end, noises of him shuffling around on his bed echoing through. "i understand."

slowly, that lump was starting to form in the back of your throat, voice going all wobbly like it had been doing a bit too much recently. "it's just... im stuck in this dead end job that I feel like I'm never going to get out of, and at the same time my boyfriend that I love with my whole heart is in another country and I barely see him anymore that it doesn't even feel like we're together anymore."

"honey... I don't know what to say."

you sighed, fiddling with the chord of the telephone. "yeah i know. me neither. it's too difficult."

"it's christmas soon, maybe I could come and visit over the holidays?" he offered. "I'd have to take some time off work but that's something I'm willing to do for you."

"your work hate you taking days off though. didn't they say it's a risk of demotion?"

chandler laughed lowly, shaking his head. "anything for you."

"chan, I couldn't ask you to do that." you told him, biting your top lip as you weigh up the price of seeing him again with the price of him risking his recent promotion. as much as you would kill to see him again, to hold him, his job was just too important to him. joey and him needed the money in new york with joe losing his place on days of our lives. you couldn't ask him to risk that. "im saying no, chandler, I'm sorry."

he hummed again, clearly put down by your words. "yeah I know, it's too risky."

"maybe..." but you faded your words, not wanting to even think of what your brain was telling you. the thought was making you distraught. and you'd just had a whole thing about its the act of trying that matters most. the two of you couldn't just give up.

but chandler caught it, eyebrows furrowing in manhatten, monica and joey looking over at him from where they were sat in the living room. "what? maybe what?"

you shook your head, even though again he couldn't see. "nothing. just..."

"go on."

"maybe this is too difficult. maybe we shouldn't..."

"darling, what are you saying?"

you sighed, falling backwards onto your bed, letting the duvet surround you. "maybe we should stop trying."

chandler didn't speak for a bit. on the other end, he had fallen against the wall, not being able to believe what you had just said to him. his shoulders dropped and his voice did too, not understanding what was happening. "are you..." he coughed. "is that it then? are you breaking up with me?"

"I'm sorry. I wish this was easier."

"yeah. mhm." was all he mumbled, before pulling his ear away from the phone and ending the call, disrupted, slamming it against the stand on the side of the wall.

a week later, you were groggy, tired, and every bone in your body felt like someone had smacked each of them with a hammer individually until they shattered. but this would be worth it. the plane journey was terrible, with several babies crying throughout and some guy next to you that hogged the arm rest. but once you had your notebook out, planning what to say to him, all of that zoned out.

the cab was okay. you spoke with the driver bit and used his conversational skills to text what your plan was. he thought it was a good idea, even when you had explained what happened.

when the cab stopped outside the apartment block, you thanked him, paid him and continued to run straight upstairs, your bag knocking against any wall and any stair possible with the speed you were running at.

quitting your job wasn't difficult for you. the night after the break up you didn't sleep, contemplating what you could possibly do to change the decision you had made. the only one that made sense was quitting the job you had only just taken and move back to new york to be with him again. the company had been sad to see you go, and your boss specifically kicked up a fuss but you had made your decision.

chandler was who you needed.

this was definitely the right decision. it didn't matter that your parents didn't like him, or that they wanted you in a steady job in a country you knew. but new york was your home. the guys and the girls were your home. the apartment with ross was. chandler was your home.

that was the final thought that occurred to you as you opened the purple door to the apartment you had missed so much. chandler would either be here, his own apartment or central perk. this was the first and best bet.

"chandler?" he turned on the sofa, the rest of the group turning too but you didn't even notice them, even though they were all there, you were too occupied. "chandler."

he stood up abruptly. clearly, he didn't know what to do.

because after very possibly the worst break up of his life, you were standing right there. eight hours of plane on you, hair tied in two plaits and eyes drooping like you hadn't slept all week, but standing there in front of him, actually there.

"what?" he stepped around the settee, following you as you moved closer, nearer the table in the kitchen. "there's no way you're actually here."

you tilted your head. "I'm moving back."

"what?" his eyebrows furrowed.

"I quit my job." you explained, stepping closer to him yet again, not being able to figure out what he was thinking. "I never should have broken up with you. I never should have taken that job from my mum. I love you, and if you'll have me back, I'd like to move back to new york and be with you."

"are you sure?" his voice went low like it had over the phone last week. "you're not going to leave again?"

you shook your head. "never, I promise. I swear, pinkie swear."

chandler's expression softened, the blue in his eyes warming to that look that you knew so well. "honey, you are the only person I've ever wanted to commit to."

for the first time in two weeks, you grinned up at him, happier than ever to be in his arms again. his hands snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as your arms naturally fell around his neck, letting his nose nudge against your neck in a hug for the ages.

"thank god!" joey cried from where he sat on the ottoman. "cause even I was getting sick of him moping about."

the whole group laughed as you let your head fall onto his chest, gripping his sweater as your shoulders shook. chandler swiftly moved his head downwards so his lips were at your ear. his voice breathing against your skin as he spoke. god, you'd missed him.

"i missed you, wanna go celebrate?"

"if celebrating is implying what I think it is... then yes." you murmured back with a grin, hands against his chest and making sure you weren't loud enough for the rest of the group to hear.

chandler pulled back and grinned, taking your hand in his as he turned to the rest of the group. "we're gonna call it a night guys, jet lag is crazy and you know... we've got catching up to do."

"they're gonna go have sex, right?" joey asked, just as the two left, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

you knew the answer to his question, very easily.

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Yet Another Dead Boy Detective Fic Rec List

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I've been having so much fun with these, so I've decided to make another! See above for links to my other fic rec lists. ♥️

Like We're Gonna Die Young (Again) by RoseGanymede95

The latest installment in the superb Codependency World Cup series has the boys attend a nefarious house party and grapple with old frenemies, 90s fashion and temporary amnesia. Also fleshes out their achingly sad backstories, but compensates with the triumphant return of Pierre the rabbit.

When I Picture You by Gruoch

Charles gets braceleted by the Cat King instead of Edwin and receives his heart's desire... being alive again. This author has a special gift for taking fun sounding premises and turning the angst up to 11. So excellent.

young blood (never get chained) by ghostinthelibrary

University AU in which half-demon Charles intervenes in Edwin's ritual sacrifice and inadvertently binds their souls together... I'm genuinely obsessed with this AU, it has so much potential for tons of delicious tropes. Human!Edwin getting a crash course in supernatural shenanigans! Soulmate vibes!Found Family! Demon lore! What's not to love??

Ghosts and Monsters by justafandomfollower

Charles is also sacrificed and the boys meet in Hell! Fantastic premise and executed really well. I loved Masterful Edwin taking charge and protecting Charles while inwardly despairing. Highly recommended.

back to back they faced each other by ShanaStoryteller

The Night Nurse has a theory about how Charles was able to rescue Edwin from Hell so quickly... I'm genuinely shocked I haven't recced this one already. Sorry guys, I forgor. Anyway, this has interesting "Guardian" (angel?) lore, great meta and we even get some temporary amnesia as a treat.

boyfriend jacket by skadii

5+1 times Edwin borrowed Charles' jacket. The characterisation is on point, and it has some great OCs (Kyle the snarky seeing-eye cat!) and really sweet payneland moments. Plus Charles' jacket doing its most to annoy the Cat King.

Looking Like the Sunrise by letters_of_stars

Edwin thinks he's cursed so he and Crystal must team up to solve the case of his Mysterious and Suddenly Appearing Rizz. Funny and sweet friendship fic with some quality Edwin-Crystal bonding and discussions of trauma.

The Case of the Anonymous Confession by Mayarenerose

College AU featuring Charles posting an 'anonymous' online confession about his complicated feelings for his bestie. The closet is glass, but Edwin is oblivious and Crystal is in pain. Cute and funny epistolary social media fic done really well.

the middle of something wonderful by KiaraSayre

Does what it says on the tin and gives us a trope salad of cosy vignettes, including a time loop, temporary amnesia, sudden corporality and Crystal and Edwin trying to get a good grade in Party. Wholesome.

My heart is like a haunted house (series) by halffulljampot

Charles (unknowingly) befriends the ghost of Edwin's mother and constantly gushes to her about his amazing best friend/boyfriend. Beatrice is a great OC and it's just nice (though extra tragic) to read a fic in which Edwin had loving parents. Read it for Family Feels and wholesome intergenerational friendship.

the first rule of fight club by e_va

The boys are captured by an evil underground fighting ring. The fic is from Charles' PoV, so the prospect of having to fight Edwin was especially stomach-churning. Still, we get Edwin being a badass and a brilliant surprise cameo I don't want to spoil.

The Case of The... by sophisticatedyet

Edwin borrows Niko's negligee and Charles' brain breaks. There's also a case and giant squids, but Charles' Distracted By The Sexy crisis is the main (hilarious) event.

in those heavy days when love became an act of defiance by aletterinthenameofsanity, JUBE514

Daemon AU and first meeting fic! Loved the worldbuilding, insightful character work and lovely use of Greek mythology. Honestly, this fandom needs more daemon AUs.

spinning around and around in an ocean of grief (your ladder came down to the sea) by Ingi

Prequel to DontOffendTheBees' excellent College AU, expanding on the boys being alive and in school together. Also has its own prequel about their first meeting from Edwin's point of view. This one, though, is a Charles' Bisexual Journey/Feelings Realization fic. So lovely.

head in the clouds but my gravity's centered by shadowquill17

Face Touching: The Fic. I just love non-sexual intimacy in fics and this one is so tender. I also love Accidental Kissing and Feelings Realization so my cup runneth over.

i don't want to rest in peace by handwrittenhello

Different First Meeting fic featuring Poltergeist Charles! Loved the concept, even though it made me sad.

the great snogging debacle of '95 by thatgayprince

Edwin disguises himself as a girl and Charles starts and then defers a sexuality crisis for 30 years. Funny, steamy and emotional.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

The agency take on the case of a depressed house. This is another bittersweet Edwin backstory fic with discussions of grief.

Smitten in the Stacks by cordelianoir

Adorable prequel to lolotr's equally adorable library AU. Meet cute featuring (platonically married) Dad!Charles crushing on the hot librarian who leads Children's Storytime.

Jenny Green: Butcher, Hot Mess, Reluctant Queer Elder by Money_Maker

Jenny-centric fic! The focus is on Jenny and her financial, mental and emotional struggles post-canon, but mentoring Edwin through his queer self-discovery becomes a big part of that. This turns into a really sweet friendship, plus Found Family Feels and some fun outsider PoV of the boys' dynamic.

I've always got more recs so watch this space! ❤️

[that-tmr-girl]

Shut Up and Take It {Part 2}

The more Newt dominates you in bed, the more you like it.

1,437 words

Rough dominant Newt, vaginal sex, blow job, fingering, overstimulation, degrading

I woke up feeling half dead that morning. I could still barely even move and had to wear a literal turtleneck because of all the marks he left on me. I had to lean against the wall just to take a shower.

Dominant Newt was nice, but damn, it screwed me up. My legs are still shaky and sore. Even when I was sitting, my body threatened to collapse.

Sitting was better than standing though so I'm thankful for that. I just had to sit there for a while and pretend that this isn't the same plan we’ve had since the beginning. As long as they think I’m listening.

So I sat for most of the day. Then, I went and laid down, where my lover had joined me after.

As if nothing was wrong, he had curled up to my side. With his arms around me, he cuddled me as tightly as he could, kissing my lips every now and then.

Until his lips had moved to my neck.

Closing my eyes, I threw my head back to give him full access. As he bit down and started touching my thighs though, it became clear he wanted more.

“Newt, someone could walk in,”I pointed out, slightly pulling away to look at him.

“No they won't,”He said simply, not a hint of worry on his face as he kept his hands on my thighs. “If you don't want me, just back out now,”He commanded.

“I always want you,”I breathed out.

“Yeah. You’ve made that pretty clear,”He grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes. Biting his lip, he looked me up and down before letting his hands travel up my shirt. Shivering at his cold fingers, I shut my eyes for a moment.

Sneaking his hands higher up, he threw my shirt on the ground just as I opened my eyes. Without stopping, he quickly unhooked my bra, throwing it to the ground as well. Grabbing my hips, he picked me up and put me on my back, making me shriek for a moment. Ignoring my sounds for now, he unbuttoned my jeans before looking at me for permission. The second I nodded he tore them off, my panties following.

“You have to be quiet this time. Understood?”He checked.

“Yes, Newt.”

“Good,”He grinned, placing his hands under my chin. Lifting my head, he admired his marks from a few hours ago, tracing his thumb over them. Shuddering a little at his touch, I grasped the sheets in anticipation, unconsciously rubbing my thighs together as wetness dripped down them. “Someone's already so excited to be used, aren't they?”He smirked.

“Yes.”

“You just have no damn shame when it comes to me, do you?”He practically taunted.

“Never.”

“And you never will,”He chuckled, pulling his hands off of me. Looking at the ceiling, I took a shaky breath of want as I listened to him unzip his jeans, letting them fall to the ground. Risking a glance, I saw him strip his shirt off, leaving him naked. My face flushed at the sight of him, already hard and yearning for me, his eyes filled with lust.

Walking back over, he crawled on top of me, aligning himself with my entrance as I spread my legs wider for him. Looking at me, he silently asked for permission to fuck my brains out, something I eagerly gave to him.

Keeping me silent, he crashed his mouth against mine as he slammed into me. Letting out a noise, I moaned and shrieked against his lips as he pulled out only to shove back in. Grabbing my wrists that were at my sides, he pinned my arms beside my head as he pulled his face away to look at me. Pushing my hips up, I bit my lip as I took him deeper inside of me. Grunting, he carelessly railed me as I tried to keep up with the rough pace. My legs shook as he filled me up, the bed creaking under us. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I already clenched around him. His grip tightened on my wrists as he pulled out and pushed in again. Holding in screams, I threw my head back as I came on his dick. Grunting louder, he pushed into me again, filling me up.

“You still take it so good for someone who could barely walk this morning,”He whispered in my ear.

“I could take you for hours.”

“If you insist,”He said in a dark voice. Pulling out, he stood up before gesturing for me to get in front of him. Trying to ignore the shakiness in my legs, I did as he instructed.

Grabbing me, he turned me around and bent me over the bed. A small shriek of surprise left me as he aligned his dick with my soaked cunt. Biting down on my lip, I balled my hands into fists as he kept pulling out and pushing in. Grabbing my hands, he pinned them down as he fucked me to the point of practically losing my senses. At each thrust, he seemed to be deeper and deeper inside of me. I was basically cross eyed as I released. Pretending not to know, he just kept going, twitching inside of me. Letting out a whimper, I buried my face in the mattress as he exploded inside of me, more of his liquids now dripping down my thighs.

“You said you could take it, but you're always going to make some noise. Aren't you, you slut? You just can't help it,”He whispered in my ear as he pulled out. Turning me around, he shoved me on my knees. Ready for him, I grabbed his dick and started licking his tip. Groaning at the teasing, he wrapped his hands behind my neck and shoved himself all the way down my throat. Gagging on him, I swirled my tongue around, collecting his juices in my mouth. Moaning around him, I looked at him as I took him down my throat. With a dark expression, he thrust his hips, making me choke before humming around him.

“All these times and you still gag,”He said through raspy breaths, throwing his head back as he twitched in my mouth. Humming louder, I sucked on him until he shot his warm seed down my throat. The second he was done he pulled out. “And even with my cock in your mouth, you still make noise,”He tsked, a devilish look on his face as he picked me up and threw me back on the bed. “You like that though, don't you? You like it when my dick’s in your mouth? It makes my whore happy, doesn't it?”

“Yes,”I breathed out as he kissed and sucked on my neck. Closing my eyes, I savored the feeling of his lips until he started squeezing my nipple, making my gaps as my eyes shot open. Taking it even further, he started running his finger between my folds, making me squirm under him.

Sinking his teeth into my neck, he started leaving even more marks as he plunged two of his fingers inside my sensitive pussy, making me throw my head back. Pumping and curling them, he used his thumb to rub circles on my clit as he moved his mouth to my chest, his other hand holding my waist. Biting my lip, I could barely see as dots of pleasure clouded my vision. While increasing his pace he grazed his teeth over my nipple. Throwing my head back, I bit back down on my lip as I tightened around his hand. Moving his mouth to my other nipple, he sucked on my breasts before removing his fingers.

I absolutely whimpered in disappointment until he pushed his hard dick into me, making me moan as I released all over him. Thrusting in and out twice, he held my waist as he climaxed, leaving me a wet and sweaty mess.

Breathing heavily, he groaned before slowly pulling out. As I tried to sit up he quickly pushed me back down.

“Lay here so I can put your clothes on. Then, you're just gonna sleep until dinner, where I’ll see you then. Understood?”

“Understood,”I nodded.

“Good,”He smiled, his eyes soft as he cupped my face and kissed my temple, back to his soft self.

I know the circumstances suck, but I could definitely get used to this. Rough sex and then my soft Newt back? That sounds like the dream.

As long as you forget the nightmare part of it.

[luimagines]

Omg requests are open!!! Remember to take care of yourself! And 3 requests per person you are so generous!

Anyways how about.... The chain with a stressed out college modern student lmao (maybe they're studying to become a veterinarian, because that's what I'm going to college for this year lol👀)

Remember to take care of yourself and take your time💕💕💞

Oh goodness, this took forever to get to. Um... So how'd your school year go?! Did you start the second year already?

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"GGAAHHH!!!" You yell into your hands, rubbing them over your face and into your hair, trying to not pull it right out of your scalp.

"....I guess they're dead." Wild shrugs unhelpfully, walking calmly past you.

Sky picks up your fallen book, giving you an amused, if concerned look. "Problem?"

"It's too much stuff." You groan, taking the book back. "You know, when I chose to be a vet tech I didn't think it would consist of overloading my brain until it felt like it was leaking out of my ears."

"What's a vet tech?" Wind hops to your side, peering over your arm to get a better look at your book. He has no idea what it says but there's a cute picture of a dog on the front. The book is also very shiny and colorful. He has no idea what it's about.

"A doctor." You say, deciding to put your text book in your bag. "But for animals."

"Think you can take a look at Epona at some point then?" Twilight asks from somewhere to your left. you can't even look at him, your head hurts.

"I guess?" You rub your temples. "I'm still learning and there's only so much my textbook has on horses. But I can try. I'd need some experience anyway."

Hyrule stops and calmly activates the healing spell on his hands. Your head ache goes away at once.

You turn to him gratefully. "Traveler, I'd kill to have that ability of yours."

He smirks. "It's rather convenient, but I thought doctors were healers. No killing for you."

You stick your tongue out at him. He remains unapologetic.

Time puts a hand on your shoulder. "If you need more experience with horses, you're always free to take a look at our horses at Lon Lon."

"For free?" You deadpan.

He meets you head on. "We only pay the professionals, not the trainees."

You pout harder. "I hate that. I get it. But I hate it."

He chuckles.

Four rolls his shoulders and checks your hip simply because he can. "So what's that book about? Animals?"

"It's my text book." You say, patting your bag where it sits safely tucked away. "It has all the information I would need for my classes and then some." You rub your eyes again. "I swear I'm going t have this entire book memorized before I get home. I had a test on Tuesday for crying out loud."

"It's admirable that you're still studying though." Four smirks at you.

"Studying, the only words that very blatantly describes the acts of students dying." You grumble.

Warrior laughs out loud an smacks your back, nearly sending you careening into the gravel trail face first. "I remember those days. I couldn't wait to get away from the desk and on to the field!"

"Yeah?" You say, relaxing a little more at the common experience. "What for?"

"Knight training of course." He shrugs. "Had to learn the laws like the back of our hands. Fighting came after."

"I remember that." Sky stretches his arms over his head. "Hated it."

"No time like the present." Legend shrugs. "You're on the field now whether you like it or not. Nothing like learning on the job."

Somehow, you don't feel like that bodes well for you. "Remember, I'm studying animals, not people."

"We're not all that different though." He pops his back. Legend looks at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye. "You might want to give a check up to Wolfie too, while you're at it."

You smile. "Dogs I can do. Horses will have to wait a little more."

Twilight throws something at Legend head, but you don't know why.