#I love how I managed to cover only half the fucking century

[historia-vitae-magistras]

In one of your last posts about Matt and Katya, you mentioned Alfred and Ivan’s dynamic, and that perhaps there is more beyond the hate sex they have had.

Do you mind expanding on that? What is your interpretation of their relationship, if it can even be called that?

LMAO god, gonna make me use the two and a half years I spent special interesting my way through Eastern European history on my way to a degree in 20th Century history, are you? About time I did lmao. Alfred/Ivan is one of those ships I don't enjoy purely as a ship, but it's so compelling. Much too compelling to the history to leave out entirely.

So, at the dawn. You have this old state in Ivan, considered backwards and rural by the Western European imperial powers, which has largely lost its verve for even trying most of the time. He has usurped his sister, who built most of their culture and claimed the power he has from the remnants of several cultures and expanded eastwards. And he comes across this young upstart, similarly held on the fringe of the powers of Western Europe. He's had similar obsessions with Jan when the Dutch Republic was new and a lasting one with François when he was the heart of European culture. Moreover, he's not only interested in and admiring of Alfred and the American experiment, but Ivan likes Alfred. Everyone likes Alfred. It's impossible not to like Alfred. There's an affection and attachment, a kind of love if I want to push. By the 19th century, Ivan wished him success because he and Arthur were locked into the Great Game in Central Asia. He spites Arthur, Matt, and Katya by selling Alaska to Alfred when he and Russia can no longer benefit. He's happy to raise a glass to American success. Alfred was touched by the gestures during his Civil War and the purchase of Seward's Icebox.

Afterwards, things declined quite quickly. Between the end of the American Civil War and the beginning of World War One, over 3 million people from the Russian Empire settled in the United States. But less than 5% of them were ethnic Russians. Most are Jewish, Polish and Lithuanian. Feliks mostly stays in Poland, a firebrand devoted to his survival, but Alfred meets Tolys, and he loves him. He lives with Tolys and his memories, perceptions, and opinions. Matt is up to his tonsils in Katya any moment he possibly can be, with a mouth full of their father's loathing of Ivan and a chest heaving with Katya's life. Alfred is increasingly their father's heir. The Pacific acquisition of Alaska was just the first step. If Alfred is the Christ to Arthur's God and lord knows he thinks of himself as a saviour, the Russian empire just looks shittier and shittier.

But he still has that reputation of being an outsider. He's not quite in with the European powers. He brokers the end to Russia's ultimate humiliation against Japan. Ivan, to a certain if somewhat limited extent, believes Alfred's bullshit. The deal is fairer than he would have otherwise gotten. But this is the high point of the pre-war Kiku, and Alfred's strange, tense and intimate relationship and opinion is still vastly with Japan during the war.

Then comes the Russian Revolution and the Polar Bear Expedition. Alfred is keener to do business with Ivan's new government when revolution breaks out. It must be an improvement over the Tsar, surely. He's not entirely in his complete form yet; he gets looped into the Entente's support, but he's pretty vocal about this thin line of hope that this may go well. The way his revolution went. There's this brief moment where Ivan and Alfred look at the world with a thought to a common future. They're looking at each other again with an ancient hope, maybe some mutual admiration. This may work. Maybe Ivan will get his shit together. Maybe Alfred won't become the heir to Arthur's Great Game. Maybe, maybe.

And then it goes up in fucking flames. Even American leftists became disillusioned with the USSR somewhat quickly. He helped lay down new states in the newly free Eastern Europe; God knows Tolys and Matt are doing their best to keep Alfred on-side. It took almost fifteen years, until 1933, for the US to acknowledge the USSR. Alfred is repulsed by the USSR even if he does cool his jets as interwar isolationism has slowed the process of him stepping into the fray as the head of his family.

By World War Two, Alfred is happy to write his redemption story and just dump treasure and materiel at the USSR. He's the balance of power between Arthur and Ivan, and Ivan is delighted to see Alfred snap at Arthur whenever he fucking pleases. But he's also miserable that he is the one dragging himself on his belly over the broken glass and ruins of Eastern Europe and doing the largest share against the Nazis. But there's a little hope that Alfred and Ivan will rule the world when this is over and find common ground in their power. It's only in the waning days of the war when Alfred's clearly suffering from the campaign in the Pacific and Eisenhower lets Zhukov have Berlin, that they shack up in some way or form. Alfred has more hope than Ivan, but Ivan is at least a little satisfied to see that Alfred has had a piece carved out of his idealism by his war against Japan.

It doesn't last. Alfred might be happy to take Arthur down a notch, but when the crown comes upon his head, as has been arranged, he wears it with a certain ease no one expected. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but what is the weight to a man who fancies himself Atlas and Prometheus all in one. And it comes with the confidence to hate Ivan's ideas and opinions even as he revels in their fucking. Sex isn't love, and the feelings he gets throughout all of it are not love to Alfred. I still somewhat adhere to the thought that McCarthy almost denounced Alfred as both a communist sympathizer and a homosexual in the 1950s for this apparent attachment, but the intelligence apparatus intervened and prevented it.

And that is where I will leave off because I'm damn near at 1000 words RIP.

[hypnoneghoul]

Wake the Dead

WC: 5k

Relationship: Rain/Mountain/Phantom

Tags: Transmasc Phantom & Mountain, Tentacle Dick, Improper Use of Gills, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Bioluminescent Cum, Biting, Implied/Referenced Abuse (aka phantom has trauma), Vaginal Fingering, Anal Sex, Tail Sex, Face-Sitting, Aftercare, Cuddling, Not So Concealed HC Lore Drop

“I want you both to get inside,” Rain mumbles. “Both of you in my gills.” Or Phantom and Mountain fuck Rain's gills with their t-dicks...and so much more.

Notes: Commission for @midnight-moth! Thank you so much for your support, Dylan <3 Divider by @ghuleh-recs!!!

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Phantom has no idea how he ended up in there; what good he has done to deserve ending up in there. From the moment he got summoned he has seen how tight the ghouls are, how they are not only band and packmates, but that they are a family.

The quintessence ghoul did not dare think—did not dare hope—that he was special enough to become a part of it. He came as a replacement, who knew if he would even stay there and not get sent right back to the Pit after the tour? For a few hundred years of his life down there he had never gotten anything good, no reward for surviving that long.

He had been alone, lived in pain and sorrow for centuries. Getting summoned Topside seemed like a turn, like his life would finally get better, but he didn’t dare hope in case it all gets snatched away the second he believes it’s real.

But in moments like these, he does believe it's real.

Over a year and a half later Phantom still doesn’t know how and why, but he’s there with them and it’s all that matters.

They have been at it for hours…days, maybe; none of them knows. It’s slow, languid—an indulging slide of sweat and slick covered bodies against each other.

Phantom is floating, he’s somewhere far, far away, kept on Earth only by the gentle, yet somehow still firm, grip of…Rain, he thinks. His eyes are closed, he’s just sensation, he can only feel. The hands on him are pleasantly cold—just as the tentacle buried inside him up to the very hilt, filling him up nicely—but there’s warmth at his back, a rhythmic rub of knuckles against his spine.

An image flashes before Phantom’s eyes. Of the night he got summoned, of him lying curled up and shaking in the summoning circle; covered in blood, with shredded claws, and missing half a horn, half an eye, and half a tail. He has been afraid most of his life in the Pit, but it was nothing in comparison to the fear that paralyzed him at that moment—when he took in all those big ghouls standing over him, surrounding him, looking ready to pounce.

There was no real warmth in their eyes, then.

But warmth does flood him as he realizes how it all turned out. How…how loved he is, now, how he is finally safe. Exactly all of the things he never dared even hope were possible

Phantom opens his eyes and looks right into Rain’s, and even though the water ghoul’s gaze is like a window into the freezing ocean’s depths, it is warm and full of affection.

He feels as if he will cry and he just might when it all calms.

“You’re doing so good for us, batsy,” Rain smiles down at him, moving his hips as smoothly as only a water ghoul can manage; with the feel of water herself in it. The quintessence ghoul gasps and suddenly all of his body is a single raw nerve when Rain’s tentacle hits some secret place inside him and makes a bolt of electricity go through him.

“So good for us,” Mountain echoes from behind him, rasping it right into Phantom’s ears. His hand is moving under him, rubbing his fat clit with one hand and holding the small ghoul against his chest with the other thrown across his middle.

Phantom could die right here and now and he would be the happiest ghouls to have ever lived.

Rain moans and the quintessence ghoul sees his tail twitch where it’s coiled around his own thigh. He hangs his head and rests his forehead against Phantom’s and a purr breaks out of the younger ghoul when the other takes a moment to affectionately rub their faces together. 

“I love you,” Phantom mumbles, earning himself a big, wet and sloppy kiss in return. Rain licks into his mouth—runs his tongue over his fangs and gums, as if exploring. As if he isn't familiar with every single inch of him yet. The quintessence ghoul whimpers and opens up even more, letting Rain overtake him in any way that he might desire.

Mountain seems to be feeling left out. He hooks his chin over Phantom’s shoulder and leans up to press his lips against whatever he can reach. It just so happens to be the water ghoul’s fluttering gills and neither of them will complain about it.

The earth ghoul slides his unglamored tongue against the slits in Rain’s neck and revels in the sweet noise that he lets out; that is swallowed by Phantom right away.

His cunt squeezes around Rain’s cock and he loses a bit of the control he’s still somehow hanging onto. Phantom is so warm and slick and silky inside it’s maddening and Rain’s tentacle does what it wants with little to no regard to what the water ghoul wants from it. Paired with Mountain’s wet tongue on and in his gills, Rain’s absolutely losing his mind.

He kisses the quintessence ghoul as if he’s the last thing he would ever get to taste, sucking the breath straight out of his lungs and letting it out into Mountain’s mouth through his gills. It all feels sickly good, ecstatic, and none of them seems to be getting enough. They would spend hours, days, years in each other’s arms if only it were possible. They just might try.

Rain thrusts in and out of Phantom’s cunt harder and faster with every second, slapping against the back of his thighs and spreading his legs even more than they already are—held as such by Mountain’s own hooked over his knees. It’s a beautiful tangle, but when Phantom is going to regain his energy later, he will definitely need to sooth them all with quintessence.

It’s irrelevant now as they’re lost in pleasure of each other's bodies.

Rain punches a pretty little moan out of Phantom with every single thrust, josling him on top of Mountain who’s still rutting his stiff clit against the quintessence ghoul’s back and his own hand. It’s far from being particularly satisfying, but there’s no place he’d rather be right now.

He kisses and bites and sucks at the gorgeously splotchy purple-white skin of Phantom’s shoulder, turning the pale parts violet by worrying it between his teeth. Tiny scars that are littered all over the young ghoul feel like satin under his tongue and Mountain wishes there would be more words that he could mumble into his skin and mouth to make him realize how wonderfully beautiful he is.

There’s no way Phantom realizes, no way he sees himself like Mountain—like all of his pack, for that matter—sees him. If he did, there would never be any doubt in his seeing eye, no accusation of ugliness or wrongness.

Sometimes it is still, and the earth ghoul will work incessantly with all the others to get rid of any doubts once and for all. They all do that for each other, they are all the most gorgeous creatures to each other.

Mountain gets lost in thought despite the fire raging around him, the arousal thick like smoke in the air. They’re all choking on it and gasping—desperate for fresh air—into each other’s mouth, trying to breathe it out of each other.

One of Rain’s hands moves, stops gripping Phantom’s hip as if he would turn to dust the moment he lets go, and ends up on Mountain’s burning cheek. It cups it lightly, in a manner not fitting the sinfulness of their current endeavors.

The water ghoul pulls his mouth away from Phantom’s for a moment—his lips swollen and deliciously shiny with saliva—and graces Mountain with a smile before leaning down and giving him a taste, too. He always tastes so sweet, the earth ghoul can never get enough of any part of him. 

The involuntary growl that rips itself out of Mountain when Rain pulls away reminds him of the night Phantom got Topside. It was terrible, the worst summoning ritual he has ever witnessed and his stomach still turned uncomfortably at the memories. He growled similarly then—though way louder and with a different intention—and he knows he scared Phantom to death. If scaring him more than he already was was even possible then.

Mountain growled out of instinct at whoever did all that to him, though, not at the poor ghoul himself. The moment he saw him, he recognized him as pack and earth ghouls were considered the most territorial, protective and possessive for a reason. If not a tight grip Dewdrop has had on his hand, Mountain would launch himself into the closing portal and give Phantom’s abusers—whoever they were—similar treatment. If not worse.

It would have definitely been worse.

So much worse.

Now, though, the quintessence ghoul is so soft and pliant in his arms, and the noises spilling from his lips one by one are as sweet as they get. There are times where Mountain regrets not being as close with Phantom as some of the others have gotten over time, even despite his feelings, but when it really matters, the earth ghoul is there for him. And regardless of whether Phantom knows it or not, Mountain would rip apart everyone and anyone that would ever dare to raise a hand at him.

His thoughts wander too much, he realizes, but at least it gives him some more time before he blows. It would be a shame to do so prematurely and even though he knows it’s a certain feature of his that his packmates adore exploiting, he would rather hold out and be able to enjoy the act fully.

His position is awkward at best, but he manages to hook his hand down between his legs and sink two fingers into his creamy cunt. He can neither get them deep enough nor stimulate himself in any meaningful way, but stalling is his goal here.

Mountain’s other hand travels from Phantom’s waist to his thighs and down, between them, where Rain is fucking into him with abandon. The earth ghoul wants to feel, to run his rough, calloused fingertips against Phantom’s folds, the place where the other two are joined, slip one digit inside him alongside Rain’s cock.

“Mounty–” the water ghoul gasps and pulls back a fraction, just enough to give Mountain space to grab his cock. He smirks against Phantom’s neck and wraps two fingers around the base of Rain’s tentacles, caressing the soft, barely there, suckers on the underside of it.

The quintessence ghoul moans loudly and wiggles his hips, clearly not satisfied with the other pausing. Mountain hums and the moment he pulls his hand back, Rain is slamming himself back into Phantom’s cunt, so deep he feels him in his throat.

The earth ghoul grits his teeth and pulls both of his hands away to put them on Phantom’s skinny hips and grip him tightly, holding him against his chest so hard he bruises. They both might.

“C–close…” Rain cries out, shoving his face into the other side of Phantom’s neck and taking it—surprisingly gently—between his teeth.

“Uh-huh, fill me up, Rainy,” Phantom begs and even though it’s not meant for him, it makes Mountain groan. For the water ghoul it’s all it takes, he sinks his fangs deep into Phantom’s shoulder as his tentacle buries itself equally deep in his cunt. His hips twitch weakly as he spills inside the younger ghoul, filling him up with cum that will definitely make both him and the bed glow once it gets dark.

Not that it’s a disadvantage; Rain would lie if he said he did not enjoy marking his lovers with something inherently him that can’t be gotten rid of as easily as just wiping it off with a wet cloth.

Phantom and Mountain will glow with his cum—even if the latter just from it spilling everywhere—and Rain will take great pride in it. He can’t wait to stare at it leaking out of the quintessence ghoul’s pretty pussy, it'll match the galaxies of his skin perfectly.

“Fuck, feels s’good, Rainy,” he whines as he clumsily tries to hook his legs on the water ghoul’s hips and bring his even closer. He would have to quite literally split him open and crawl inside to do that, but it doesn’t stop Phantom from craving such closeness. Not after he spent centuries without experiencing a gentle touch.

Rain is breathing too heavily to be able to speak—his post-nut dizziness has to cease first—but Mountain is still there, still rutting his little cock against Phantom’s back.

“Come on, iris,” he hums into his ear, nipping at the shell of it with a fang. He gives up holding the quintessence ghoul down in lieu of pinching his nipples and pulling just enough to rip a pretty whine or two out of him. “Come on, make our dear petal even wetter. Soak us all.”

Phantom is unable to resist such a delightful image. His back arches so far it looks painful—it is for Mountain as he crushes his chest, even considering how much smaller Phantom is than him—as a loud wail falls from his lips. His cunt grips Rain’s cock like a vice as he cums and the water ghoul cries out quietly at the tightness on his overstimulated flesh.

“Oh–ah…shit,” Mountain swears under his breath, hastily getting one of his hands back on himself. He grinds against the heel of his palm for a few short moments more, letting out a series of breathy little gasps and whimpers, before he cums, too, folding in on himself as much as Phantom’s now limp body lying over him allows.

As soon as the earth ghoul goes boneless, Rain flops down right over Phantom, effectively turning the three of them into a very messy sandwich. They pant into each other, slowly coming down from their respective highs and back to reality.

The quintessence ghoul feels soft lips on his shoulder and he trills happily when he realizes it’s Mountain lazily kissing his splotchy skin and licking at the slowly bleeding bite left by Rain. He tips his head back and nuzzles against the other’s cheek.

In the meantime Rain does the same to Phantom’s chest, rubbing his face against him affectionately; not unlike a cat. It’s adorable—all of them are—even considering what debauchery they just indulged in. Still are; Rain didn’t even pull out.

Someone should move and reach for one of the water bottles on the nightstand, but it suddenly feels way too far. All their limbs burn, but it's a pleasant ache, one that they will revel in for the next few days, especially when all the memories come flooding back. Or when it will make them come flooding back.

Phantom purrs quietly between the other two—the ghoul loving to be stuffed full and squeezed above anything else. Rain giggles, all giddy out of nowhere, and kisses a tiny beauty spot just next to the quintessence ghoul’s nipple; resisting the urge to bite down on it. Another time.

They lay like this for a while, letting their minds float and their bodies relax and get back on the horny track. They have all evening and night, after all.

“I want you both to get inside,” Rain mumbles into Phantom’s chest after a while, his own having finally paused heaving with exertion. He’s obviously not done yet and he’s ready to go on. “Both of you in my gills.”

Mountain sighs—though not with exasperation—and wiggles an arm out from where it got squeezed between Phantom and himself. They will have to part if the water ghoul wants to go again, but for now he just blindly pats around looking for the gills on Rain’s ribs. He grumbles, though, wiggling on top of them both and making Phantom moan as the suckers of his cock pull on his hole where it’s still snug inside him.

“Not fingers,” Rain clarifies, sounding pouty. “Your cocks.”

“Oh,” Phantom whimpers at the thought alone. That would be neither very possible nor safe with an actual cock, but with their perfectly cute little t-dicks…well, Rain wants to have them everywhere that they can go.

He peels himself off of Phantom and rolls over to the side to sit up and help the younger ghoul up, too. He pulls him into his lap for a few sweet kisses and affectionate nuzzles as Mountain gets himself together. As much as possible in such circumstances, at least.

“How, petal?” he asks, but Rain simply lays down in his place instead of replying. He wraps his tail around Phantom’s slight waist and pats his chest in invitation. The quintessence ghoul scrambles to straddle him, throwing a leg over him; so eager to both please and feel good himself again.

Mountain hums, considering, before moving to Rain’s other side and kneeling over him, a bit lower than Phantom. He hands the water ghoul a pillow to support his neck in the awkward position and—the not-so-secret little shit that he is—lowers himself and drags his cunt over the frilly gills on Rain’s ribs as he tries to get comfortable.

He smirks at the wrecked noise that he lets out at that and settles himself over him more comfortably, waiting for Phantom to do the same.

“C’mon, boys, gimme,” Rain whines and even though the quintessence ghoul is terrified of breaking his damn neck, he braces himself against the headboard and leans forward to nudge his clit against the gills on the water ghoul’s neck.

Mountain goes first, though, wrapping an arm around Phantom for support and lacing the fingers of his free hand with Rain’s limply laying one. He rolls his hips gently at first, to get his little cock into one of the slits, and then with more purpose, to actually fuck inside.

It’s insane.

Rain moans loudly and lets his head roll to the side to give Phantom more space to slip inside, too, and—oh, Lucifer—does he. The young overeager ghoul goes right for it, pushing his fat clit into the water ghoul’s neck and humping him as best as he can while still trying to be somewhat careful. Though not for much longer, most likely.

All of Mountain and Phantom’s worries are quickly snuffed out by the delirious babbling and wrecked noises falling from Rain’s lips one by one. It shouldn't take long for him to start crying, the earth ghoul thinks.

Rain lays boneless under the two ghouls abusing the delicate organs of his that absolutely were not made for what’s happening. Satan must be proud of them sexualizing absolutely all parts of their human-ish bodies, though.

One particularly pained wail of Rain’s makes Mountain freeze and look over Phantom’s shoulder at his face, searching for what caused him the hurt. Nothing, it turns out.

“T–tentacle,” Rain whimpers in explanation and squeezes his eyes and the earth ghoul gets it. He looks behind himself to see that Rain’s cock decided it’s bored and that it’s the perfect time for it to slip inside his ass and help the other two ghouls to get him to cum. “Oh fuck.”

Mountain knows as well as anyone that Rain’s little friend loves to be a menace.

He pushes his clit back into the water ghoul’s gills and humps him in quick little thrusts, moaning at the bursts of cold air on his sensitive flesh as Rain breathes. His gills are cold and slimy and tight, and not a lot of things feel tight on Mountain’s cock—he’s losing his mind.

Rain squeezes his hand, moaning as his own tentacle and the two ghouls fuck the living shit out of him while all he can do is just lay there and take it. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Phantom whimpers above him as he’s rutting against his neck and with great effort the water ghoul looks up at him. He looks absolutely blissed out and that little crease between his eyebrows is positively one of the cutest things he has ever seen.

Rain wiggles his free hand from where it got trapped under the quintessence ghoul’s knee and shoves it between his legs, parting them to get to his cunt. It’s sopping wet with his slick and Rain’s own cum and he can’t help but blindly scoop some up and shove it back inside with three fingers.

The quintessence ghoul whines and his legs shake as he’s still doing his very best to fuck Rain’s gills properly. His clit isn’t long enough to choke him, but it’s fat enough to stretch the delicate slits on his neck and that in itself makes the water ghoul’s brain leak out of his ears.

Once again Mountain seems to be jealous. Just a healthy amount. He all but pouts as he whines, looking down at Rain and squeezing his hand to get his attention. He’s absolutely adorable when he's so needy.

“Petal, gimme…” he begs. “Feelin’ empty like that.”

“Oh, baby,” Rain coos, concealing the smirk that’s pulling on his lips. Somehow; he’s barely still coherent. He uncoils his tail from around Phantom’s middle and wraps it again around Mountain’s. Loosely, so the tip of it can dip between his cheeks and rub between his soaking wet folds before plunging inside to fill him up. The earth ghoul cries out and hunches his shoulder against the added stimulation. 

Out of nowhere Phantom whips his head around and throws an arm around Mountain, desperately trying to bring himself closer without pulling out of the tightness of Rain’s gills. The earth ghoul leans forward and smashes his face against the other’s in something that could barely be called a kiss. They lick at each other sloppily for a while, until a jab of Rain’s fingers inside Phantom makes him jolt and straighten back up.

The water ghoul would also demand a kiss from him, but even with Phantom’s bendiness it wouldn’t be possible. He’ll get all the kisses and more later. For now, Rain is satisfied with staring at Phantom—into his eyes.

As he does, he remembers his summoning day. It was a horrid sight. Smell and noise, too, it all went so wrong, even though, apparently, the ritual itself was the least of the young ghoul’s problems that day.

Rain was terrified, then, frozen against the cold stone wall as he watched with wide eyes as the mauled, barely alive ghoul literally crawled his way out of the Pit. Phantom probably doesn’t remember that, but it was the water ghoul who his eyes fell onto first. Or rather one eye, because the other was shredded and so his eyelid was shut. They saved it—Aether and Omega—but it remains blind; a milky white with a purple crack going right through the middle of it.

Still beautiful.

Rain tells him as much and watches the blush on his cheeks deepen impossibly.

So, so beautiful.

From the moment Rain’s fear for his life dissipated that day, he knew that he was going to take care of that broken little thing, that he was going to show him what safety and love means.

Looking at him now, he considers himself successful.

Phantom holds onto the headboard in front of him and the earth ghoul’s thigh behind him as he fucks Rain’s gills and rides his fingers at the same time and the water ghoul can’t get enough of him. His mouth feels dry and he’s worrying his bottom lip between his sharp fangs when an idea sparks in his foggy brain.

“Bat–batsy, come on,” he mumbles, pulling his fingers out of him and freeing the other hand of Mountain’s grip. The earth ghoul grumbles at it, but he’ll get a reward soon enough. Rain paws at Phantom’s thighs clumsily, scratching him some with his glamored claws as he tries to pull him forward.

The quintessence ghoul is confused for a moment, but when Rain lolls his tongue out and looks at him pleadingly it starts to make sense. Phantom grunts and fulfills the other’s request by settling himself over his face. Slick and cum drip from his cunt in fat drops right into the water ghoul’s mouth. He moans at the taste, tips his head back and pulls at his thighs to make him sit down.

Phantom is strong, but his legs have been shaking for a while now. He drops down concerningly hard, but Rain doesn’t seem to mind. The quintessence ghoul doesn’t have the time to worry about it either, when the other immediately plunges his tongues deep inside and starts to fuck him with it.

The quintessence ghoul leans back against Mountain and moans pathetically as Rain eats him out like a man starved, licking his own cum out of him. The earth ghoul keeps fucking Rain’s gills, but he manages to hook his chin over Phantom’s shoulder once again, to look down at how his clit twitches with every move of the water ghoul’s tongue.

He’s drowning in slick and Mountain can feel on his cock when he starts to breathe through his gills more. Rain’s nose nudges Phantom’s clit with every little roll of his hips, following the same rhythm that the water ghoul moves his tongue in, and if Mountain thought noises that were spilling out of him earlier were sweet, these are pure sugar; truly a music to his ears.

The earth ghoul feels something leathery on his stomach and when he looks down he sees it’s Phantom’s little tail wriggling against him, as if desperately trying to wrap itself around his waist in the typical affectionate ghoulish fashion. It’s too short, though, barely a half of what a normal quintessence ghoul Phantom’s age and size would have—and probably have had before the attack—and Mountain’s heart breaks.

He reaches down to caress the adorably eager little thing before prompting it to wrap around his forearm. Phantom doesn’t even notice, not really, but a happy chirp breaks out of him in between the moans pulled from him by Rain when the comfort of having his tail wrapped around a part of a ghoul he loves registers in his brain.

The soft moment is perfect, but it doesn’t last long—getting concealed by Rain bringing Phantom closer and closer to the edge. Mountain looks over his shoulder again, not being able to resist staring at how blissed out the water ghoul looks drowning in pussy.

Soon enough the quintessence ghoul’s claws dig into Mountain’s thigh and a sinful noise falls from his lips as he cums with a shudder, soaking Rain’s face, neck and chest. The amount of slick glistening on his steel blue skin makes the earth ghoul’s head spin and it takes no more than a few clumsy rolls of his hips and a burst of cold air on his clit as Rain gasps to throw him over the edge, too.

He goes rigid, squeezing the water ghoul’s middle with his muscled legs and moaning wantonly. Phantom falls back against him and the two of them might be crushing Rain under them a little, but he doesn’t complain. Quite the opposite, actually—his mouth hangs open in a groan as he takes in the debauched image above him and feels his tentacle wriggle inside himself. His orgasm crashes into him just a second later and a single tear of positive overwhelm rolls down his flushed cheek.

All three of them sag and flop down right where they are and they don’t move for a longer while, too worn down to even make a muscle twitch—just lying with their limbs all tangled together in a sweaty pile of content, fucked out ghouls. Phantom either passes out or falls asleep for a moment, because the next thing he knows is Mountain hanging above him stroking his cheeks with a soft smile on his face. Rain is nowhere to be seen.

“You did so good for us, honey,” the earth ghoul praises between kisses he’s peppering all over Phantom’s exhausted body now, wherever he can reach. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Rain disappear into a bathroom. He blinks slowly and tries his best to focus his gaze on Mountain and to smile at him. He manages—although rather goofily, making the other giggle. “You’re so adorable, iris.”

Phantom trills at the attention and scrunches his nose up at the other. He chuckles as he brings a bottle of water to his lips and cradles the back of his head, helping him take a few sips. It doesn’t take long for him to give in to the compelling urge that’s pulling his eyelids back down. Distantly he hears some shuffling and Rain and Mountain exchanging a few words. He also feels a warm, wet cloth being run all over him, cleaning him up with all the care in the world as he dozes off.

“I’lov’y’both,” he slurs, half asleep already. He thinks he hears chuckles in response, and maybe he feels some more soft kisses on both his cheeks.

The quintessence ghoul isn’t entirely sure of what happens then, but the pleasant warmth and a sound of happy content purring all around him must mean he’s engulfed in the others’ arms. He wraps his sore arms around a soft body next to him and clings to it with all his might, even though he knows they’re not going anywhere.

He finally knows.

When he does finally fall asleep it’s with a smile—knowing he is safe and loved as a part of a one of a kind family, and that no harm will befall him ever again.

A few hours later, when Dewdrop comes in to check on them and leave more water bottles and some snacks on the nightstand, he sees the whole bed and all three ghouls glowing faint purplish blue in the darkness. He smirks, noticing that the light is most concentrated where Phantom has his thigh hooked over Rain’s hip. And on Rain’s face, for some reason.

They had fun, then. Clearly.

[baizhoobies]

Good Morning! “Waking up with…” gn!Headcanons

Request: Hey!!! How are you? Can I request morning headcanons with Sigma, Bram, Kunikida and Fyodor? Can be suggestive if you want. Thank you have a good day!

A/N: Hiya! thank you for the request :3 I am doing okay thank you for asking! Also one last thank you to those in the requests queue who are waiting! I love and appreciate you

Warnings: suggestive, swearing, mostly fluff and sweet domesticity, 18+

Including: Sigma, Bram, Kunikida and Fyodor

Sigma

- Okay to start off with, lets say you both live in the casino together, he has one of those fancy VIP looking rooms

- your bed is ridiculously comfy, as the manager/owner, he has to have a good nights rest (plus working in the DOA the man needs some good fucking sleep)

- Sigma is enamoured with you, he wants nothing more than to be with you and to express his love for you, so he will make sure you are at your most comfort, with your preferred duvet covers, pillows, the works

- He looks like a sleeping beauty whilst he sleeps, so if you are the first to wake up and look at him… if you weren’t madly in love with him, you are now

- clingyyyyyyy

- super clingy, the man doesn’t know what home is but he knows he is at home with you. Keeping that in mind, he will probably prefer to be the big spoon, holding you tightly like some sort of teddy bear

- If he is the first person to wake up whilst he is the big spoon, he will probably try to wake you up with kisses on your neck and shoulders

- though I won’t lie, if you roll over in your sleep to become the big spoon, he will love that just as much

- knowing that you love him and wish to embrace him is enough to make his heart flutter and feel even more at home with you

- he loves the way you smell, your soft breaths and the way your skin feels against his own; soft and warm

- probably keeps a pillow or something and sprays it with your perfume so if you are away for any reason, he can sleep a lot better whilst thinking of you

- I can’t see him being the most active person in the morning, he will definitely want an extra 10 minutes. Even if you want to get out of bed, he just wants to cuddle and how can you refuse his puppy dog eyes?

- Probably doesn’t engage in anything sexual though, at least not in your sleep unless you talk about it prior. Though in saying that, if you have breasts, he will hold onto them like some sort of stress toy, or out of comfort

- I am picturing him doing this, half awake but the moment he hears your moans in your sleep, he’s only going to keep doing it until you are awake 🤭

Bram

- oooh boy, okay I am going to take liberty and allow Bram to have all of his limbs, maybe this scenario is before the events of BSD?

- If you are both vampires, its natural that neither of you will be awake in the morning as ya’ll sleep all day. So I am going to assume your mornings are actually in the evening after sunset

- Not that either of you are allergic to the sun (as seen in the anime/manga) but its a vampires natural sleeping pattern to sleep during the day, and I assume he did when he was living in his estate in Europe.

- He will most likely wake up out of hunger than anything else. You guys could sleep for centuries if you wanted, so the only reason to wake up is to feed, and perhaps spend time with you

- I am gunna say that ya’ll rest in a double sized coffin (yes, they exist) you are his partner after all and wishes to hold you close

- probably will have anxiety if you were in another coffin

- he’s a gentleman, if he wakes up first he will pull you closer and purposefully rest your head on his chest. In one manga panel its seen that he has claws? Or long nails? Will draw circles into your back/shoulders, humming contently as he does so

- if you guys are spooning, he will kiss your spine and your shoulders, but he will only really do this if he is in the mood… might even sneak a hand around and have a cheeky little touch~

- if you aren’t a vampire, he will probably follow your sleeping patterns. Ain’t no way is he going to wake up whilst you go to bed, nuh uh.

- nothing much would be different except Bram being a little dramatic in the mornings

- Like he will say some shit like “human, you have disturbed my slumber, why must your weak bodies-” promptly tell him to shut up and give him a kiss, he will soon shut up

- he will convince you to sleep longer, or at least lay there with him so he can sleep some more

- promise to make out with him, or wake him up if ygm, this may convince him to wake up and indulge 🫡

Kunikida

- So this man ensures that he gets 7 hours of sleep every night; its essential for him to feel refreshed and ready for when he wakes up in the morning. He the type of guy who will wake up immediately at the sound of his alarm, get out of bed, shower etc.. all according to his notebook

- HOWEVER

- Ever since you moved in, he's found himself becoming.. sloppy with his schedules

- Kunikida doesn't strike me as the guy to enforce his schedule onto his s/o, the word 'no' is a foreign word to him when it comes to you

- So lets say his alarm goes off in the morning, he goes to turn it off and get out of bed, but oh no! Your legs are intertwined, your head on his chest and your arms snaked around his waist.

- Despite his best efforts to convince himself to get immediately ready for the day, he will let out one huge sigh and set the alarm to snooze...and then snooze again, and again.

- Kunikida's biggest weakness is cuddles, especially whilst you are sleeping so adorably

- He might curse himself for breaking his schedule but, you certainly are worth it

- He may even incorporate snuggle time into his schedule just to say that he is following his ideals to feel better about himself

- LOVES to watch you sleep, I know bro is romantical (but will never admit it) he will just stare at your features, it doesn’t matter if you snore or have your hair all a mess, or whatever, he just is so in love with you.

- He takes this time to reflect on your relationship together, he probably practices ‘gratitude affirmations’ and you are certainly one of them

- Not the type of person to fulfil his desires in your sleep, he'd rather wait till you're awake before initiating anything, HOWEVER, if you are the first to awake, he certainly isn't going to complain waking up to you under the covers, iygm 😏

- Note in diary: woke up to sloppy toppy at 7am

- Expect breakfast in bed at the weekends, those are the days he has more time in the mornings and will make the extra effort in pampering you. You like coffee? Well the man owns one of those fancy coffee machines, Idc what anyone says, he does.

- Kisses with the taste of coffee on his lips >

Fyodor

- This was hard but I like a challenge (plus the recent episode got me quaking)

- Fyodor does not sleep a lot, over working himself on his plots and schemes, 100% will need convincing to join you in bed

- He would wake up first, no matter what. You would never catch him sleeping, like ever

- even if you get up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet, the man just senses when you are awake (he is probably a very light sleeper)

- its most likely to do with the fact that when you are sleeping, its quite a vulnerable state and although he is comfortable with you, he struggles to turn that side of him off

- As he wakes up before you, it gives him a chance to watch you resting peacefully, he leans over you and just takes in the view

- He will gently brush the hair from your face and just… he just thinks you are precious and wants nothing more than to just take a moment and reflect on it

- If its coming close to having to get up for whatever reason, he will stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, most likely calling you Russian pet names and shit

- Although he is the first awake, he won’t get out of bed until you are ready

- I can’t see him being a person who’d want to cuddle in bed really, going to sleep or waking up. He is a little touch starved but in the sense that he doesn’t quite know how to be physically affectionate

- though catch him on a day where he is particularly sleepy, then he will be more likely to let his guard down and cuddle (he can’t keep up this criminal master mind shit 24/7)

- I don’t think he’d be super relentlessly horny in the mornings, but if he is for whatever reason, he would (like the whispering you awake HCs) he would probably give you a few sleepy neck kisses, caressing your body with his nimble fingers and enjoys watching you squirm and whimper yourself awake.

[megan0013]

5 is totally fallout so I would like another snippet of my favorite fic of yours...continuing from where barb actually gets the chance to tell Walt

from this prompt list: one night stand and falling pregnant au

(this probably isn't what you were looking for, but i'll totally get to the actual conversation between barb and strickler at some point)

here we have an au of an au, wherein barb manages to tell strickler he knocked her up (with jim) before he leaves the country -

The last thing Nomura expects to find upon slipping into Strickler’s townhouse at six o’clock one random weekday morning is a rather attractive redhead standing in his kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand and an obnoxiously thick textbook propped up on the island in front of her. Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail and she’s got incredibly bright blue eyes, and the changeling is really starting to think she’s broken into some young coed’s place by mistake when Strickler, himself, suddenly appears at the woman’s side.

“That one had better be decaf,” he says, smiling affectionately as he leans forward to nuzzle his nose against the pale skin just under the redhead’s left ear.

Nomura arches a brow. In all the centuries she’s known him, she doubts she’s ever seen him smile like that at another person.

“I’m drinking half and half.” The woman’s chin tilts, but her eyes never leave the page she’s reading from. “Don’t worry. It’s only my second.”

“It sounds like you’ve been up a while.”

 “About an hour.”

“That’s a long time to be on your feet, my love.”

Somehow, Nomura’s eyebrows manage to completely disappear under her bangs. Strickler? Using terms of endearment? No way.

“I know you have a test coming up,” Strickler continues as he presses a trail of kisses down a slender neck to the sharp collarbone peaking out from under one of his old t-shirts. “but maybe you could take a short break? I’d make it worth your while.”

A content hum echoes through the large kitchen and Strickler’s whatever finally turns toward him, giving Nomura a very different view of her physique. One that is, quite obviously, pregnant.

“Oh, no shit.”

The words escape before she can stop them, and Nomura’s hands fly to her cover mouth as the couple jerk their gazes in her direction. An uncomfortable silence settles over them as Nomura’s eyes dart from the woman’s confused frown to Strickler’s horrified expression and back again.

“Um, hello.” The redhead is the first to recover. “Is there something we can help you with?”

Nomura blinks.

“Okay. Um, Walt? Do you know this person?”

It takes several seconds, apparently, for Strickler’s brain to process the predicament he’s just found himself in before he clears his throat and nods. “Uh, yes,” he says slowly. “Yes, darling. This is Nomura. My, er, sister? Sort of. Nomura, this is my…”

“Barbara.” She rolls her eyes and gingerly disentangles herself from Strickler, careful not to bump her bump against the countertop as she steps around the island. “I’m his Barbara. It’s nice to meet you, Nomura.”

“You,” Nomura reaches her hand out uncertainly, “too.”

They shake quickly but Barbara, sensing the awkward tension between the two, doesn’t stick around after. “I’m gonna go study upstairs for a bit,” she says, going up on her tiptoes to kiss Strickler’s cheek before grabbing her textbook and coffee off the island. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

His gaze dips briefly to meet hers, and Nomura can’t help but notice how their fingers have somehow found a way to twine together over her belly during the short exchange. She’s gone a moment later, disappearing up the old wooden staircase with obvious familiarity.

“Fuck, Stricklander,” Nomura hisses the second she hears the bedroom door creak shut. “What did you do?"

[kariachi]

I wanted some cardcaptor!Kevin and it’s been ages since I wrote Gwen using he/his pronouns so, some fic.

~~

There wasn’t a lot that left Gwendolyn speechless for any length of time. He’d grown up with Ben after all, and if there was anybody that drove you to verbalization it was him. But no, leave it to Kevin to make it work.

He hadn’t thought twice when he’d joined him in trying to clear out the mess the villain he’d taken out evenings before as Lucky Girl had left behind. The school certainly hadn’t figured out how to get rid of the hard masses of strange material, he’d thought maybe he could get magic to do something. Meanwhile, one of Kevin’s majors was in engineering, so presumably he’d had some ideas of his own to work with. The thought that said idea would involve summoning a venomous green fog to eat the shit away like tissue paper had not entered into it.

What did you say in response to that? When your longterm boyfriend, who had never seemed like anything more than a standard mutant, started throwing around powerful magics out of nowhere? There was nothing for it but for Gwendolyn to stand there beside him, gaping and staring as the fog rolled back their way. As it did, it coalesced into the shape of a young elven lady, covered in dew with a patient smile.

“Thanks Mist,” Kevin said, grinning brightly. The spirit’s? smile widened in response, and it dissolved into a small whirlwind as he held out his hand. As Gwendolyn watched, the whirl of fog coalesced into an almost tarot-like, light blue card.

He had been studying magic since he was ten, ever since that roadtrip, and seeing the card in Kevin’s hand dropped the pit right out of his stomach.

“What in the fucking hell,” he finally managed. Kevin blinked down at him.

“What? It worked didn’t it?” It wor-

“Yes, very well, I’m very proud, why do you have one of the Clow Cards?!”

“Not the Clow Cards anymore,” Kevin mumbled under his breath, eyes half rolling, before he answered. “‘cause it’s mine. Don’t know how somebody who’s constantly doing their research and working with magic shit hasn’t heard the Cards had a new master, it’s been nearly eight years.”

“Sorry for not keeping track of every ancient magical artifact in the world!”

“‘Ancient’, they’re like five-hundred years old, give or take a century or two.”

“Not the point! Why am I only just learning this now?!” He’d known Kevin had some interest in magic, they’d read many of the same books, chatted about the topic regularly. Fuck, it was part of why he’d fallen for him, the ease of having somebody else to talk about this stuff with. And despite that, at no point in the year they’d been together, nor the months they’d known each other before that, had Gwendolyn seen him do any sort of magic, nonetheless heard him say anything about being Master of the fucking Clow.

“It never came up,” Kevin answered with a shrug, stowing the card away somewhere, Gwendolyn wasn’t paying enough attention to see. Of fucking course, of course it would just have ‘not come up’. This was the same person who hadn’t told him about his birthday until Gwendolyn had asked about it on his own. Never before had the words ‘oh, about a week ago’ arisen so much fury in his heart. Of course, he wouldn’t have thought to mention having the most powerful magical artifact to ever come from Earth.

Gwendolyn loved and hated him in equal measure.

“All right,” he said, without growling or huffing thank you, grabbing Kevin’s arm and doing his best to tug him back towards the dorms, “come on, you’re telling me everything-”

[suna-reversed]

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader 

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie,  or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness] 

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same. 

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin. 

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher, 

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself, 

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him” 

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about. 

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out. 

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string. 

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes. 

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’ 

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened. 

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse 

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face. 

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something, 

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt. 

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance. 

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing? 

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis. 

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting. 

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was  a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?” 

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

 - “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”- 

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far. 

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

[saturnsorbits]

You’ve heard of reincarnated lovers, but what about reincarnated enemies? -> ft. Bakugo.

Tw: Implied Character Death, Mentioned Violence, Mentioned KiriBaku, Bad Writing, This is a half idea, but I am no-where near clever enough to make it work.

It’s 11:45pm when someone with a too solid shoulder knocks straight into you and paints the front of your white dress with coffee. You spin on your heel, voice already bubbling in your throat when your eyes lock to carmine.

You’d recognise him anywhere.

‘You!’

His brow crunches in the way you hate, eyebrows pushing together to crease his skin only to pull apart and rise again moments later as realisation seeps into his bones. He mutters, sliding his sunglasses down his nose like removing the tint will change your features into something unfamiliar. It doesn’t. ‘Fucks sake. Really thought I’d managed to avoid you in this one.’

‘Yeah, well I’m not delighted to have bumped back into you either.’ You snarl, lip curling. In another life you’d have stabbed him for it. You’ve stabbed him for less before, but it’s been centuries since the Kofun Period and acts of violence tend to be frowned upon in 21st century Britain - no matter how provoked they might be.

Rolling his eyes, he shoves his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and checks his watch before turning to leave.

Your eyes blow wide, anger simmering in your stomach as you scream at his back. ‘You spilt coffee on my dress, you asshole!’

He throws up a hand, not bothering to turn back. ‘I’m late. Remind me in the next one.’

It takes millenniums for you to learn to live in each others peripheries, but you never quite give up your hatred for each other.

… Even if sometimes, there's no-one else who can quite understand.

It's 3am, almost a century later, when you're awakened by a knock at your door. Blinking up at the ceiling, you cling to the hope that the noise will fade, but when the person knocking begins to sound as though they’re coming through your walls, you snatch up a baseball bat and head for the door. Breathing deep, you steady yourself, wrap your hand around the handle and yank it open.

'You!'

'Me.'

Bakugo looks almost as bad as he did the night he lost in the coliseum. There's blood covering his shirt, a split running down the middle of his bottom lip and a series of colourful bruises finger painted down the side of his face, but that isn't what makes you step back wordlessly and let him into your apartment. His eyes are red, skin puffy and raw. His iris' bloodshot and watery, lids still acting as small dams, keeping his tears at bay. He snorts when he sees you drop the bat. 'What you gonna do with that? Hit a whole in one?'

He reeks of rum. 'That's golf.' You mutter and slink off down the corridor, Bakugo stumbling on your heels. As soon as he sees the sofa in your living room, he throws himself down onto it and winces, bringing a hand up to cover his rib. 'You gonna tell me what the fuck happened?'

'Got into a fight.'

You cock an eyebrow.

'A few fights.'

'And why have you decided that make that my problem?'

He lets his head tip on his shoulders and bang against the solid back of the sofa. There's a sob in his throat that he knows he can't stop, but even that doesn't prevent him from attempting to swallow it back down. 'Eiji – Eiji got into an accident....'

The name sparks something in the back of your mind, but you're still sent sprawling for the source of the memory. A quiet gasp leaves your lips when it finally clicks. Thanks to the wonders of social media, you'd been forced to see the wedding photos. You'd never seen Bakugo smile like that before. 'Is he okay?'

Throwing himself forward, Bakugo digs his elbows into the fleshy parts of his knees and shakes his head. 'I really fuckin' loved him.'

Cautiously, you slip onto the sofa beside him and reach out, tentatively petting at his shoulder. You'd think after everything, you'd both be used to this by now – the losing – but you’re not. You don’t think you ever will be. 'You think he's like us?'

‘Nah.’ Sniffling, he rubs at his eyes.

'Stay.' You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and tug gently. 'And we can go back to hating each other tomorrow, yeah.'

He nods, sucking in air greedily through his teeth as he lets you guide him from the sofa to your bedroom. You help him strip, soak his busted knuckles and clean the blood from his skin before tucking him in and leaving, pillow slung over your shoulder, for the couch. He stirs when you reach the door, squinting through tired eyes. 'Oi.'

'Mmm?'

'I owe you.'

A sad smile pulls at your lip as you speak back into the dark. 'Remind me in the next one.'

Hate is a strong word. A fitting one, maybe.

But, it turns out that even having an enemy for company is better than being alone at the end of all things…

It's 6am, in the spring of a year none was supposed to see. The wind is soft, a gentle breeze ruffling the soft spike of Bakugo's hair as he perches on the lip of a mountain. Beside him, is a box. The familiar grating of boots on gravel informs him that he isn't alone, but there's no sense of worry in his broad shoulders. Instead, he relaxes and barks out a quiet laugh. ‘Bout time you turned up.’

You suck air in over your teeth and pant. 'You could have chosen somewhere closer.' Closing the last few meters to the edge, you reduce yourself to your knees to sit next to him and tug the sweat-slicked front of your t-shirt away from your chest.

He shrugs. 'Figured this'd be the best place to watch.' Chewing at your lip, you turn your attention, finally, to the view.

The sky is on fire. A bloody smear of red and orange is painted on the horizon, dappled with flecks of black ash that are spewed from the surrounding volcanoes. The city below is a sea. Mud-green water sloshes around half-crumbled buildings, infested with the memories of a world that will soon cease to be.

You wet your lips, eyes swimming with destruction as you look on. 'Do you think we'll be coming back from this?'

Humming, he tilts his head back, watching as the clouds are vaporised right before his eyes. 'I don't know.' He thinks, lets out a breath. 'We've come back from everything else.'

'Nothing as bad as this...' You gesture the scene, eyebrows raised.

You both fall silent then. Another building crumbles, sending a landslide of rubble into the path of a bored tidal wave. More smoke is breathed into the air. The world continues to end.

Shuffling, Bakugo plucks the box from beside his hip and shoves it onto your lap. 'For you.'

'What?'

'Open it.'

You frown as you undo the tattered lace keeping it shut, but the expression fades as soon as you lift the lid and peer inside. Nestled in the bottom, on a bed of translucent tissue paper is a dirty, white dress. The material feels soft on your fingers when you lift it from the box and smells like lavender and burning wood when you bury your nose in it to disguise a sob.

If he notices you crying, he doesn't mention it. Leaning back again, he digs his fingers into the shaking ground between you and tries not to blink away the tears slipping down his cheeks.

You slip your fingers into the gaps between his. 'This doesn’t mean you don’t still owe me.’

He snorts, but clings back. 'Remind me in the next one.'

[separatist-apologist]

Listen…There’s so so little HelionxLoA smut out there🤧🤧 so naturally I came to the Queen of Vanserra/Spellcleaver writing to request literally anything you want to write for them, I just need content about them cause all we have is CRUMBS😭🤧

love your writing boo have a wonderful day💕

Look, if you think you can show up in my ask box demanding Helion content you are absolutely right. Honestly, more of this please. We could put Helion in ALL KINDS of positions, I know he'd be up for it.

Anyway, this is NSFW, 18+, edited with my hands tied behind my back.

--

--

Helion pulled himself out of the gleaming pool of salt water, blinded by the overhead sun. Meeting, meetings, meetings, he thought despondently, wrapping a towel around his waist. What good was being the High Lord if your time still wasn’t your own? Helion wanted to float in sunlight until his skin burned. He wanted to float until he felt nothing but oblivion, until he was one with the world.

Instead he’d sit at his desk and a stack of papers while emissary’s for whatever boring High Lord wanted to talk to him droned on and on about trade routes and taxes. Helion had hoped to never be High Lord, had hoped the magic might skip him entirely and then Amarantha, the cunt, fucked that all up.

Not that Helion didn’t still indulge, of course. Just not as often as he would have liked.

His bare feet smacked against the marble, still slippery from the water and he smirked at a gentleman who glanced at the towel hanging from his hips. He knew what they were wondering. What was beneath? Nothing, he thought with relish.

“Give me twenty minutes,” Helion told one of his advisors as he made his way towards his bedroom. “Who is waiting?”

“An emissary from Autumn, High Lord.”

Helion rolled his eyes. “Give me an hour, then,” he replied with a relish. It hardly punished Beron, given he’d sent one of his simpering, spineless courtiers in his stead and yet Helion still could not help but be petty. Let the courtier go back to Autumn and complain about Helion’s lack of time for them. Perhaps one day Beron would take the hint.

He flung open his bedroom door with a relish, intending to bathe and, afterwards, take a nap. Maybe eat after that, read a few chapters of his book and then, if he felt like it, hear out whatever Beron wanted.

Helion froze in place, eyes huge, hand still on the doorknob behind him. The Lady of Autumn, his lady, Amera, stood in the middle of the room wearing nothing but a flimsy, cotton shift that did absolutely nothingto hide her body from him.

This is a dream, his mind shouted. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined her standing in his bedroom with those russet eyes filled with wanting. He reached for his side and pinched hard, waiting to see her dissolve into nothingness.

She took a step forward. “You’re not imagining things,” she told him, her voice somehow prettier than he remembered. He rubbed his jaw; aware he must look half insane standing as he was. Helion, unable to put together words, at least managed to lock the door behind him. Had he said an hour? Autumn’s courtier would go home unanswered.

“How?” He asked, fisting his hands at his sides. His eyes drifted towards her pert breasts, the rosy nipples stark against the near transparent fabric.

Her eyes sparked with amusement. ���You haven’t heard?”

Helion’s knees began to shake as a smile spread across her beautiful face. “Eris is High Lord, now.”

“How?”

Mischief replaced her amusement. “How, indeed.”

“So you’re…” He couldn’t get the word out, couldn’t bring himself to say it only to be rebuffed. Centuries of waiting, of wanting, of yearning and now Helion needed her to say it.

“Yours?” She supplied. Finally, his body worked and Helion, unable to stand it a moment longer, surged towards his lady and yanked her into his arms. He meant to kiss her but his legs gave way and Helion knelt before her instead, hugging her middle.

“Stay,” he begged like he’d done many, many times before. She carded her fingers through his wet, tangled hair. “Please stay.”

“For how long?” She responded and Helion couldn’t believe it was real. It wasn’t really happening. He was dehydrated, still floating in the pool, fantasizing like he so often did. He squeezed her body, his hands taking on a life of their own as they began to slide the long shift up her thin legs.

“Forever,” he choked, catching the scent of her arousal before he hand the shift anywhere close to her cunt. She chucked over him, as though the scene unfolding amused her.

“Is that all?” She asked him and Helion growled, pressing his mouth against her thigh.

“No,” he replied, ripping the fabric bunched in his hands. She gasped but Helion would shred everything she brought from Autumn, every article of clothing, every pretty memento and, in time, every bad memory. He stood, ripping his way up to the neckline while she looked up at him with clear eyes. He’d forgotten how little she was in comparison and the urge to protect her flared to life.

She slid the sleeves of the now ruined undergarment to the floor, never breaking eye contact. “Is it as you remember?” She asked him, pressing a hand to his hard chest. He swallowed hard because no, she wasn’t as he remembered. Too thin, too pale…he could fix that.

“Better,” he said instead, sucking air in sharply when she pulled the knot out of his towel, letting the fabric drop to the floor. She cocked her head to the side, red curls spilling down her back. A smile curved over her pretty, red lips and Helion almost let her sink to her knees in front of him.

“No,” he all but snarled, catching her by the elbows. “Absolutely not.”

She frowned, opening her mouth to protest and while Helion would have liked nothing more than to feel her mouth around him again, he would have her body, or he would have nothing at all. He scooped her up, reveling in the feel of her bare skin against his own and swallowed any protest she might have offered with his lips. He felt fevered, hungry, and desperate for the female he spread delicately across his bed of white and gold.

He stopped his kissing just long enough to position himself on the bed, half covering her body with his own. She tasted exactly as he remembered, like roasted chestnuts and bright, sun washed apples and Helion was lost. He ran a broad hand up her thigh and over her stomach, over and over, reveling in the feel of her soft skin beneath his calloused hands.

Helion’s cock ached even before she reached between them and began to stroke. He groaned against her cheek, his eyes rolling back into his skull. Had anything ever felt so good? “Let me touch you,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

“I want to touch you,” he replied, settling a knee between her legs as he cradled her face in his hand. “I want to taste you.”

She sighed sweetly, shaking her head back and forth as though the whole thing were infinitely funny and not something Helion had been thinking about for practically his entire life. Three centuries. That’s how long it had been since he’d last touched her, tasted her…really spoke to her. He’d heard her offer him forever, but Helion couldn’t quite believe it. Their time was always numbered, always stolen in between hiding from Beron and he’d learned to take what he could before she vanished again.

He needed her to feel good, to think about his skin against hers, his mouth, his everything. He needed her to miss him the way he missed her.

“Why not both?” She asked a moment before he caught one of her rosy nipples between his teeth, breathing hot air against her breast as he teased gently. Her eyes fluttered shut and her hips bucked gently, rubbing against his thigh. The radiating heat was enough to almost convince Helion to abandon his plan of slow seduction in favor of rough, near animalistic fucking. Next time, he swore, not convinced there would be a next time. He needed to hear her scream his name so loud Rhysand and Thesan would hear over the border.

Down, down, down, he slid, his tongue trailing a path over her pale, freckled skin. He parted her thighs as her breath caught overhead and Helion thought he might cry at the sight of her, spread out like his favorite meal. Mine, you are mine—

He brushed his thumb over her wet, pink opening, delighted when her whole body seemed to quiver at the touch. He ground himself into the mattress in an attempt to alleviate the ache building but rationally, the only thing that would satisfy him was her clenched around him.

“Helion,” she gasped overhead, the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in his life. He wanted to hear her say it again. He took his thumb and rubbed an excruciatingly slow circle over her quivering clit as he watched over. Her back arched in response, her eyes flying open.

“Helion, please,” she begged this time. Not enough, he thought to himself, circling again, a smile curved over his lips.

She screamed softly with frustration, her eyes locked with his. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful—

“Helion!”

That was good, he decided, in part because he was also desperately wanted to taste the arousal he could smell. He dropped his head and licked, replacing his finger as Amera fisted her hand in his hair.

“Better,” she half-gasped. “Please don’t stop.”

As if he could. He’d just begun besides, intoxicated off the sweet, musky taste of her arousal. Wet, he thought, his tongue sliding back down her cunt towards the opening he very much planned to be in just as soon as she came in his mouth. She was so damn wet it was driving him insane.

He couldn’t resist sliding his tongue into her body, his nose rubbing against her clit, to fuck her with his mouth. She writhed overtop him, her slick coating his face in the most satisfying way. To Helion, he felt the wet like a brand upon his skin, a warning to any other who might come near him.

Yours, I’m yours—

Back to her clit, his tongue skilled, his fingers parting her so he could have more, all of her. Helion was greedy and always had been. He hated the thought of sharing, of only getting the pieces she could give. Everything was available to him now.

He wanted it all.

“Helion,” she gasped again, her thighs clenching around his face. Helion smiled, his mouth moving faster, methodically, exactly the way he remembered. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling almost painfully to hold him exactly where he was. Her hips bowed off the bed the same moment a scream ripped through the pulsating silence, his name mingled somewhere between. He didn’t stop, riding her through and, perhaps, hopeful she’d let him keep going.

She yanked hard, demanding him to come back to her. He’d intended to slide himself right in, anticipation warm in his stomach but it was clear Amera had other thoughts. She sat up quickly, her eyes liquid flame, and pushed him to the bed before he could do little more than exhale.

She straddled him without a hint of hesitation, positioning the head of his cock over her dripping pussy. Helion cried out when she sank down quickly, taking every inch of him all at once. His eyes snapped open as she began to rock, her breasts bouncing in his line of view.

He was tense, taut with burning desire. It was all too much and Helion knew he wasn’t going to be able to drag it out the way he’d wanted to. She was so tight it felt like a second skin. It was all Helion could do but hold her hips, his fingers grazing the swell of her ass.

She dug her nails into his chest hard enough she was close to drawing blood. She remembered, he thought in a daze. He liked that edge of pain, the feral part of fucking that left gouges in his skin as a reminder of what they’d done. He couldn’t bring himself to bruise her skin, not when he knew she’d spent centuries hiding them. She could hurt him however she liked but Helion could not hurt her at all.

“Come for me,” he begged, so close he was hanging by a thread. He was counting in his head, trying to prevent himself from spilling though electricity hummed through his veins, urging him to let go and give in to the building heat that had settled in his sac. “Please, Amera—”

She came again, the walls of her cunt fluttering around him with intensity. He lost his control, roaring so loud he knew the Autumn emissary knew why he was waiting. His muscles locked for a moment as release poured out of him, his warm come spilling from her pussy back down his shaft to pool on the sheets below them.

He reached for her, still sheathed within her, and kissed her roughly, desperately. This had always been the part where she left him and Helion couldn’t help his terror. Don’t leave me, he begged silently. Stay.

She caressed his face, smiling as she looked down at his face. “You shouldn’t keep Eris waiting.”

“Let him,” Helion replied, his voice hoarse. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I’m not leaving,” she promised but Helion crushed her to his chest all the same.

Forever wasn’t long enough.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.  

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.  

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”  

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

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

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

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

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

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

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.  

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

[dameronology]

love in the time of PTA meetings {marcus moreno} - 1/5

summary: despite what pinterest shows, being in a parent in the twenty first century is hard; especially a single parent. your kid takes up your entire life and the idea of finding a fairy tale is laughable - that is until you finally attend a p.t.a meeting and cross paths with a certain marcus moreno.  {series masterlist}

warnings: i do not have children. i don’t know children work. this written entirely what i have seen them do in the sims 4. also, swearing. 

- jazz

Leaving work early was never a good look.

Leaving work early because your child had managed to set fire to a trash can was...well, it was something else entirely.

After rushing out of a very important meeting and parking your car in a did-you-park-it-or-crash-it manner, you were sprinting across the play ground and towards the front entrance. Having given up half way through, you’d kicked your stupidly high heels off and held them in one hand, trying to organise your slightly disheveled hair as you entered the building. Most parents might have been nervous to collect their kid after a call from the principle, but this was a regular Tuesday for you. Jack was a good kid, perhaps just a little...misguided. In your books, it was impressive that a five year old had managed to discover pyrotechnics, though you sensed the school might have been a little less lenient about it. 

‘Hey!’ You greeted the principle with a smile as you breezed through the doors. 

Jack was in a chair by the front desk, a gleeful look on his face when he saw you. As far as he knew or cared, he got to go home early and watch Paw Patrol for the rest of the day. 

‘Afternoon.’ He replied. ‘You’re lucky it was only a phone call.’

‘I know, I know.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m sorry. He’s...adventurous-’

‘ - he singed off his class mate’s eyebrows!’ The principle cut you off. ‘Given Monday’s biting incident, I see it fit that Jack take the rest of the week off.’

‘Right.’ You sighed. ‘Thank you. And sorry again.’

‘I’ll email you a list of...behavioural specialists.’ He muttered.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my kid. He’s just...curious.’ You insisted. ‘C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.’

Jack sprung up from the chair, taking your hand in his and skipping out the door beside you. Parenting had been hard enough when you’d been married, and even harder now that his dad was out of the picture. It meant that everything fell on your shoulders; school runs, packed lunches, earning money, staying sane. You barely found the time to sleep, let alone go to soccer matches or take him to extra curricular activities. It meant that the stay-at-home mums - the ones who drove minivans and had specified walking shoes and shared memes about parenting on Facebook - muttered about you. 

I heard Jack’s mum couldn’t make it to the parent-teacher association meeting because there was a divorce hearing. 

Look at the kid’s lunch! Oh the saturated fat, the horror!

What do you MEAN your five year old isn’t vegan?!

Frankly, you wanted to whack them over the head with their own damn vision boards. So what if your kid was a little rough around the edges? He’d discovered fire today! If it had been in the stone ages, that would have been impressive. The kind of thing that would have earned him a McDonald’s, had the fast food chain been around at the dawn of time. With the way things were going, paired with the fact you knew your fridge was empty, it looked like you were heading for a Happy Meal anyway. 

‘So do I get all week off?’ Jack peered up at you, tugging on your arm.

‘Yup, all week.’ You sighed. ‘But it’s not a reward, okay? It’s...’

You stopped in your tracks when you saw Marcus Moreno’s car pull up in the lot. Naturally, it was expensive and electric and perfectly between the white lines. He gave your less-than-stellar parking a frown as he breezed by - not that you noticed. Frankly, you were too busy admiring him. You saw his face more on the news than you did in person, but he was beautiful. Talk, dark, handsome and mysterious, but also...friendly and approachable. He’d held the door open for you once two years ago and that had been it for you. There had been whispers about the fact he was a widow, though you’d tried not to pay attention to them. It wasn’t anyone’s damn business. You knew he was a good dad; you’d had the chance to meet Missy when Jack had got his head stuck between the playground fence and she’d helped pull him out. She was sweet and well-behaved and clearly well brought up. Could you say the same for your own kid? Eh, parenting was all trial and error. 

‘It’s what?’ Your son’s voice dragged you back to reality. ‘Am in trouble?’

‘What?!’ You jumped at the question. ‘No, I just...’

‘Because Principle Eikner said I’d done something bad.’

A small sigh escaped your mouth; placing his backpack on the ground, you knelt down to his height, gently placing your hands on his shoulder. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, little man. We're just gonna take a few days out to talk about the rules and what it means to do the right thing, okay?’

‘Dad always said not to listen to the rules.’

‘Your dad said a lot of things.’ You reminded him. You stood back up, offering your hand to him. ‘Let’s go home.’

After a few minutes of bartering and the promise of a McDonald’s, you finally made your way back to the car, now with Jack attached to your back. If giving him a piggy back ride meant getting home quicker, it was a price you were willing to pay, especially since the other mums were starting to arrive to pick up their kids. The parking lot was slowly filling up with minivans - compared to your decade-old Honda Civic. It had seen better days, and one too many run ins with other cars and parking lot bollards. Still, it got the job done. 

‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you!’ You froze in your tracks again. This time, it wasn’t because of Marcus Moreno’s otherworldly presence, but rather due to the sound of the resident soccer mum. 

‘Carol.’ You turned around to face her (slowly, given the five year old on your back) with a forced smile on your face. ‘Hi.’

‘I take it you’re here for the parent-teacher’s association meeting?’ She gave you a phoney grin, handing you a leaflet. ‘I know you couldn’t make the last one, because of your...d-i-v-o-r-c-e hearings.’ 

‘I can spell!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘It’s okay, buddy.’ You reached up to ruffle his hair, smile not faltering. ‘But yeah, you’re right. And what about it?’

‘Nothing.’ Carol quickly shook her head. ‘So you are coming to this one? It starts in ten minutes.’

Truth be told, you’d no idea there was even a meeting tonight. You usually ignored the damn things until the news letter came out, and then you could read it from the comfort of your sofa with a glass of wine. There was nothing you stopping going tonight, aside from your intense hatred for them. 

‘I wanna get home and watch South Park!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘I don’t - I mean...I don’t let my five year old watch South Park.’ You said. ‘He walked in on me watching it one time and...point is, yes, I’m here for the meeting!’

‘No, you’re not-’

‘- Jack, just sssh!’ 

Carol blinked in surprise, but her phoney smile returned a moment later. ‘Excellent! I’ll see you inside.’

You inwardly groaned. Why had you just done that? You fucking despised sitting in a stuffy gym for the better part of an hour, listening to the perfect mums bang on about healthy eating and limiting their kids’ internet time. You already questioned your parenting skills as it was - the meetings only made it worst. You didn’t assimilate into that crowd; they were all married, with big houses out in the ‘burbs and bank accounts that could cover their kids ever-expanding interests and activities. Meanwhile, you were living on one wage and your two-bedroom apartment had a balcony, not a back garden. If Jack wanted to go on a field trip, you usually had to save up for months. You didn’t know if you envied the other mums’ lives, but you certainly weren’t jealous of how they viewed working mums and single parents. 

‘That lady is mean.’ Jack murmured from your shoulders.

‘Yeah buddy, I know.’ You nodded.��‘Guess we’re going back to school.’

--

Lugging the kid and his bag back up the school yard and towards the building was exhausting - at least it was your work out for the week done. By the time you’d reached the gym and placed Jack back on the ground, your shoulders were aching and you were disappointed to see that the refreshments didn’t have any alcohol. Was it too late to sneak out? The fire exit was right there and-

‘- shame this thing doesn’t have any wine, huh?’ A man was stood next to you, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the luke-warm jug of coffee on the table ahead. 

Tall, dark hair, stubble and with a faint hint of expensive aftershave you pretended not to notice? Hello, Marcus Moreno. Goodbye, ability to form coherent sentences.

You blinked in surprise. ‘Yeah. I could do with a glass. Or ten.’

‘So you hate these things too, huh?’ He smiled. 

‘With a passion.’ You returned the gesture. ‘I’m only here because Carol and her Karen Committee kept muttering about me not being at the last one.’

‘Yeah, same here. I was attending an emergency meeting about nuclear arms in Vienna, but I guess this is more important.’

‘I was...’ in court, signing documents to end my marriage, ‘otherwise occupied too.’

Marcus nodded in understanding. ‘Kids alone are a full time job, huh? ‘Specially when you’re the only one who’s running around after them.’

He knew about your situation and in return, figured that you knew about his. He’d heard the whispers about the divorce and presumed that the loss of his wife had been subject to similar gossip. The environment amongst the parents was shockingly similar to high school and things got around pretty quickly. You both hated it, especially given the nature of both your circumstances; death and separation was not something other people should have been talking about. Especially when you all you wanted to do was mind your own business and raise your damn (chaotic) kid.

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ You replied. ‘My kid is like...a baby crackhead, as well. He’s been sent home twice this week and it’s only Wednesday.’

‘Oh, Jack’s your kid?’

You let out a groan, holding your face in your hands. ‘Yeah. Famously so, apparently.’

‘No, it’s not a bad thing!’ Marcus chuckled, pulling your hands away. ‘He played a brilliant baby Jesus in the Nativity last year.’

‘Aside from when he bit one of the three wise men, yeah.’ You could feel your cheeks heating up. ‘Missy actually helped him once. She seems really...not at all like my child. Which is good.’

‘She told me about the fence incident.’ He nodded. ‘May I ask why he was shoving his head out of the school gates?’

‘He saw an interesting looking slug.’ You replied.

Your conversation was interrupted by Carol, who had now climbed up on stage. She tapped the microphone and cleared her throat, gesturing to everyone to sit down so that the meeting could start. You wanted to curse her. Whatever giddy conversation you were having with Marcus was a thousand times more interesting than the PTA. At least you could revel in the fact he didn’t want to be here either.

‘Shall we?’ Marcus gestured to two empty seats a few rows back.

‘I mean, it’s an aisle seat, which is good for a quick escape if Jack decides to be Jack,’ you nodded in agreement. ‘Hey kid, c’mon!’

Turning away from the other kids, Jack sprinted towards you, hurling himself into your lap as he sat down. You let out an oof! and a groan. He wasn’t as light as he used to be a toddler. He stayed still for a moment, tiny hands clasping yours, before he realised who you were sat next to. The kids’ impression of Marcus was not quite the same as yours - he’d only seen him on TV, with the likes of all the heroes. You couldn’t remember their names (but in your defence, they were kind of ridiculous). 

‘Are you a superhero?’ He reached up, poking Marcus in the cheek. 

‘Jack!’ You hissed. ‘You can’t-’

‘- yeah, buddy.’ Marcus ruffled his hair. ‘But it’s my day off today, so I’m doing all this boring stuff instead.’

‘Can you fly? Do you know Miracle Guy? Have you fought aliens? Do you have a super suit? Do you know Iron Man? Wait! Can I be a superhero?!’

‘No, yes, yes, no, no and maybe when you’re older.’ He counted the questions off on his fingers. ‘But for now we have to keep quiet for the meeting. That would make you a superhero.’

--

You wanted to marry Marcus Moreno.

Seriously, you wanted to marry him.

His little comment had kept Jack quiet the entire meeting. And it was a long fucking meeting indeed. The last time he’d shut up for that long was...probably before he learnt to talk. You loved he was full of curiosity and questions, but he didn’t always understand that there was a time and a place. At least now you knew what would shut him up. 

‘How does Miracle Guy fly? Is Batman real? Are you rich? Do you know Wonder Woman? How does her lasso of truth work?’

‘Jack.’ You groaned. 

You were walking out of the school now and down towards the car park. Missy was in tow, tapping away on her phone, whilst Jack trotted alongside you and Marcus. He’d been spewing questions at the poor man pretty much since the meeting had ended - and yet, he seemed happy to answer them. Excited, even. It was clear that he loved his job.

‘You gotta give Mr Moreno a break, little man.’ You said.

‘Hey, just Marcus is fine.’ He replied. 

‘Hey Just Marcus, I’m dad.’ Missy chimed from beside you, not even looking up from her phone. It was...impressive, actually.

‘I already regret buying her that.’ Marcus murmured. 

The two of you eventually reached your cars. The Civic was still terribly parked across two spaces - you were a good driver, you’d just been in a rush. The dents and scrapes all over the doors and bumper implied other wise but hey, we move. You had a thousand and one other things to save up before a new car. Putting down the deposit on a house - one you could actually own, maybe a little further out from the city - was your number one concern. Paying off your divorce attorney came after that. 

‘It was nice to meet you properly.’ You pulled your keys out your back, tugging four empty packets of crisps and three bags of gummy worms with it. 

‘I’m not done asking questions-’

‘- you gotta let Marcus go, JJ.’ You peered down at Jack. ‘Sorry. He’s a little obsessed with the Heroics, but I guess you’ve worked that one out.’

‘Can I visit your base?’ He continued, ignoring you. 

Marcus knelt down to his height, a grin on his face. ‘I’ve got a free window tomorrow afternoon. You wanna come by? Your mum tells me you’re off school for the rest of the week.’ 

‘Really?’ You blinked in surprise. ‘I mean, I’m sure he would love that but I’m at work and he’s gotta go to my mum’s.’

Your mother also doubled up as your baby-sitter. In an ideal world, you would have been able to afford a professional, but this was very much the opposite of an ideal world. It was the real world, and you were constantly juggling a thousand things at once. Never in a million years would you have changed it but there were days when you wanted to cry. When it was 9PM and Jack suddenly chimed in that he had a science project due the next day, or when he refused to eat his dinner because his chicken nuggets weren’t shaped like dinosaurs and fed them to the dog. 

Marcus looked, on the surface at least, like he had his shit together. He worked in a public facing job and he always looked put together. His car wasn’t covered in bumps and bruises and the inside probably wasn’t covered in yoghurt like yours. He seemed as though he got more than five hours sleep a night and his child was well-behaved. 

‘I’m sure we can work something out.’ He said. ‘If you give me your number, I’ll give you a call.’

‘Uh, yeah! Of course.’ He’d asked for your number. No big deal. 

You switched phones - naturally, his was much more high-tech than yours - and entered in your respective numbers. The whole thing made you admire Marcus even more; he didn’t have to have your tyrannical son over to his office, yet he offered to. He’d clearly seen how excited he’d gotten and it seemed like he’d found it endearing. 

‘Are you okay?’ Marcus asked quietly, suddenly putting his hand on your shoulder. ‘You suddenly zoned out.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You rubbed your eyes. ‘I got about three hours sleep last night. I would blame it on the terrible twos but I guess it’s the...fucking awful fives?’

He quickly turned his attention to Jack, opening the car door for him. ‘You wanna hop in? I’m just gonna talk to your mom about you visiting, yeah?’

'There’s Cheetos in the centre console!’ You called after him.

Once Marcus had shut the door, he turned around to face you. There was silence for a minute, and he just kind of...stared at you. You couldn’t read his expression or quite figure it out, but he had an eyebrow quirked and a look of...concern? Sympathy?

‘I recognise that look. It’s the help! I’m suddenly a single parent to a five year old and it feels like the world is eating me alive look.’ He said. ‘It’s the exact same one I had six years ago. Missy was about Jack’s age when...when it became just me and her.’

You softly smiled. ‘It’s not been easy.’

‘You’re doing a good job, okay?’ He gave your shoulder a light squeeze. ‘And if you ever need him off your hands for a few hours, I’ll gladly give him a tour of our headquarters.’

‘Thank you. So much, for both of those things.’ Your eyes fell to the ground. ‘It’s a refreshing change from Carol and her Pinterest boards and half-assed invitations to potlucks.’

‘God, I can’t stand all that.’ Marcus chuckled. 

‘I gotta get back now because I can see that Jack is about smush Cheetos over my break pedals but I’ll...’ you trailed off, forcing yourself to look at him and smile. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘I look forward to it.’ 

[jacenbren]

Fuckit I’m sleep deprived and I may or may not have eaten half of a cookie containing some very ✨special ingredients✨ (if you know you know) so I’m gonna rant about Wormwoodverse Velvetfrost for a minute

They’re both just so.. sad. Ok?? As characters they’re both just so painfully tragic and they’ve been through so much trauma that they’re the only ones who can stand each other. Boomer says it Tubbo’s chapter of the Christmas special and I can’t remember exactly what I wrote but he says that Ant and Velvet are both weird and off-putting and everybody else has a hard time interacting with them even though the Badlands is basically one big family. They’re both just so lonely and out of place and the worst part?? Neither of them got any say in how they got to be like this.

Ant had a pretty horrible upbringing. Shitty middle of nowhere town with mistrustful and violent residents, dangerous radiation levels, and abusive parents. Mom who was blatantly unfaithful and dad who was physically abusive because of it. Had autism and physical mutations from radiation that made life hell and because his parents were horrible people and blamed him for Stampy’s issues (Stampy has congenital insensitivity to pain and was their golden child; Craftclan was the result of one of their mother’s affairs and was dumped on somebody else and to be blunt Ant was an accident) they refused him any kind of help and neglected him severely. Then Stampy managed to get both of them out and raised lil teenaged Ant by himself, but then they had a falling out because of Ant’s bitterness towards Stampy for getting the love he never did. Now Ant’s pretty fucked up, and he doesn’t trust anybody. He’s cold and closed off and rude, because he’s learned that scaring people away before they get close means he won’t get hurt.

The autism and radiation mutations make it hell for Ant too, since he has trouble interpreting social cues and he gets overstimulated very easily, so he’s generally a very unapproachable and off-putting person. He’d rather get lost in his special interests—chemistry and insects—rather than deal with being rejected again, and Velvet’s the only person he’s ever opened his shell in the slightest for. Mans is just so damaged and so sad but is so terrified of being hurt again that he shuts everyone and everything out :(

Velvet’s also autistic too but it presents itself verrrrrryyyyy differently. He was autistic before he was kidnapped and experimented on, obviously, but it’s like his enhancements magnetized how he shows it. Oh, he was a man of few words and very observant before? Now he’s creepily silent and can sit and watch you from the shadows for hours without blinking and he overhears anything and everything whether he wants to or not. Velvet was good at copying people’s mannerisms before and cracked at math?? Well now he can memorize and mimic people’s speech patterns/thought processes to the point where it’s scary and he can interpret fuckin polynomials and carry out tensile strength calculations completely in his head because the scientists that ripped him apart limb from limb and then rebuilt him into a killing machine put a calculator in it. Velvet already had issues fitting in before he got kidnapped, and now it’s like everything society deemed “weird” about him has been dialed up to eleven.

And did I mention he’s also severely traumatized?? Because mans is; he woke up in a bunker in a post-nuclear apocalyptic wasteland with no memory of how he got there or even his own name and had no time to adjust. He acts all cool and funny and laidback but if he actually starts to trust you and opens up, you quickly realize that he’s deeply scarred and very jumpy from being subjected to brutal human experimentation and literal centuries of cryogenic stasis. and because he’s desperately trying to cling to any sense of normalcy and routine he can, Velvet covers up his trauma with a meticulously constructed facade and refuses to heal for fear of being killed for what he is because nobody in their right mind trusts the Old Ones after they blew the planet to hell. Velvet’s just so lonely and in pain but he’s terrified of getting literally murdered omg

And oh my god their relationship. I wouldn’t call it trauma bonding I’d call it more like kindred spirit bonding. Ant and Velvet gravitated towards each other because they were loners. Ant didn’t have to keep Velvet around after bringing him to the Commune; he could’ve convinced Bad to get rid of him after patching the guy up but didn’t because they looked at each other and went “huh we both have Issues and you Get Me oh my god wanna make out.” They’re just two sailors from two completely different shipwrecks washed up on the beach of the same deserted island after a hurricane and they are clinging to each other trying to just keep surviving and in the process they made each other better. Wormwoodverse Velvetfrost is an example of soulmates being made not born and oh y god still slightly high me can not comprehend the fact that my own brain came up with this 😭

[otp-holic]

Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!

[venfx]

magnus fic roundup

as tma comes to a close, i thought i'd post some of my favorite fics to come out of this fandom. most of these are classics, listed in no particular order.

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed​ | 3K | S1-S4 | Jon/Martin | Complete

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

↳ this is such a well-done exploration of jon’s character and his relationship with touch, and i’ve re-read it at least five times. sweet and sad and phenomenally well-written.

in the chillest land and on the strangest sea by imperfectcircle, singlecrow | 20K | Safehouse, S1-S4 | Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin | Complete

Jon remembers a statement he read years ago given by a Jesuit priest, who said that the shortest prayer he knew was, just, fuck it, as in fuck it; it's in God's hands. He takes Daisy's hand and trails on after her.

or; hope is a thing with feathers.

↳ hey, you wanna fuckin..... feel things? read this.

The Magnus Institute vs the 21st Century: a series of emails and IMs by shinyopals | 26K | Series | S3 | Pre-Jon/Martin | Complete

The Magnus Institute hires a Data Protection Officer. He sets about diligently booking in meetings, writing policy documents, and training all the staff in the importance of confidentiality. Now if only he could get hold of the Head Archivist, who seems to have vanished again...

(Jon is only trying to save the world, but apparently some people think he should still be doing his day job.)

↳ i’d be surprised to find people who haven’t read this series, but it’s the definition of “the magnus archives is a workplace comedy”. also, alasdair stuart has actually read some clips of this on Twitch, so that’s a fun bonus.

Bell, Book, and Candle by yellow_caballero | 102K | Series | S3 into S4 | Jon/Martin | Complete 

In accordance with the Ride or Die Pact of 2009, Jonathan Sims can call upon Georgie Barker at any time for aid with no strings attached. Despite their rocky history, their childhood friendship, and Jon’s barely recovered alcoholism, this pact is sacred and must be upheld.

Georgie Barker may regret this. She may regret it when she discovers that the world is full of monsters and eldritch gods and dickhead managers. She may regret it when a punk rocker who should be dead collapses on their doorstep, a teenager again who needs their help. She may regret it when her stupid ex-boyfriend starts selling his soul for knowledge and the ability to keep his new family safe.

But she probably won’t. Georgie isn’t scared of anything - not a Clown’s apocalypse, not the apocalypse that Jon is destined to begin, and not Jon’s own loss of humanity.

Maybe she should be.

↳ if you’re looking for an everyone-lives-no-one-dies-happy-ending fic that also happens to be massively chaotic, look no further. 

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by @wolftraps​ | 98K | AU, S1-S4 | Jon/Martin | Complete

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

↳ quintessential time travel AUs. plot-wise, i feel like these can be difficult to write, but op does a fantastic job of tying things together in a way that makes sense. plus, it’s just fun to read.

jon sims v the nhs by @thoughtsbubble​ | 12K | Series | S3 | Complete

Joan Bright has a new patient. He's carrying an old tape recorder and is covered head to toe in scars. Jonathan Sims looks dangerous, but Dr Bright has dealt with all sorts of atypical individuals. She has no reason to be nervous.

Right?

↳ if you’ve ever thought “hey, jon should probably go to therapy”, then 1) you’re absolutely right and 2) this is... probably what would’ve happened. prior knowledge of The Bright Sessions is not required. also, apparently, this fic is written by the showrunner of The Underwood Collection? wild.

Family, Found by Dribbledscribbles | 9K | S4 | Complete

It’s Basira who catches onto it.

The collective shift that seems to come over them when heading in or out of the Institute. Not just the oppressive sensation of being observed, their every move catalogued for the voyeuristic cravings of some unseen Eye(s). That feeling remained with them even when they left the Institute these days, but it was always stronger inside its walls. That wasn’t the change. Nor was it the point.

The point was: making life worse for Jonathan Sims.

↳ i think being part of the avengers fandom circa 2012 has given me permanent found-family-trope brainrot, but you know what. jonathan sims can have a little happiness, as a treat. 

Road to Damascus by @titanfalling​ | 107K | Series | S4 | Jon & Tim | Complete

n. an important moment of insight, typically one that leads to a dramatic transformation of attitude or belief

Or, in which Tim becomes an avatar for the end of all things.

↳ tim dies and then he doesn’t. there is catharsis and world building. just....read it.

Come, Change Your Ring With Me by @backofthebookshelf​ | 29K | S3 | Peter/Jon, Jon/Martin, Peter/Elias | Complete

The Lukases demand the Archivist marry into the family, and the Institute relies on them too much to say no. Peter is smug. Elias is fuming. Martin is suffering. Jon thinks this might be tolerable if only Peter would hurry up and leave him alone already.

OR, the soap opera we call an Archives revolves around Peter Lukas this time.

↳ superb evil-bastards-in-love content, feat. martin pining, tim being obnoxious, and jon being... well, tired, mostly. i will literally never get tired of how op writes peter. 

creatures that i briefly move along by @dotsayers​ | 16K | Series | AU, Post-S4 | background Jon/Martin 

Mr Sims was so weird, was the thing. Miss Grant always said calling people weird was rude, and Anna sort of agreed, but she didn’t know what other word to use to describe Mr Sims.

He’d only been in with the class for a few days, really, and half of that he just sat at the back listening, but that didn’t stop her from making a swift judgement. 5BG had had student teachers before, back when they were 3ST, and they’d been uniformly normal.

Mr Sims was… actually, Anna had a better adjective. He was interesting.

↳ i just.... love teacher!jon fics. this series delivers. 

Once Bitten by @apatheticbutterflies | 1K | S4 | Jon & Daisy | Complete

Jon Sims has always been a jumpy kind of guy. Nervous. Twitchy. Daisy used to think it meant he was guilty. Turns out he was. Just not of what she’d thought.

Daisy learns how to peel an orange.

↳ daisy and jon’s relationship is an example of an instance where i’m happy to say “fuck what you wrote mr. jonny ‘chocolate torte of tragedy’ sims, i want them to be friends”.

pins and needles by mutterandmumble | 13K | S1-S4 | Complete

He’s got a reputation to uphold anyways; an uptight, rigid reputation that dictates the way that he interacts and functions and is such an integral part of him that he can’t let go of it anytime soon. He likes his safety nets. He likes his contingencies. He likes his privacy, and everything around this place right down to the walls seems to have ears, so he’ll stay tight-lipped up to and beyond the threat of death.

He’s good at that.

In which Jon takes up embroidery and bumbles through life the best that he can.

↳ out of all the introspective jon pieces i’ve read (and there are many), this one stands out. maybe it’s the symbolism or the characterisation, or maybe it’s the fact that i have an embroidery kit lurking in the back of my closet along with a hundred other half-pursued hyperfixations. whatever. this is excellent.

sleeping in by @ivelostmyspectacles | 5K | S2 | Jon/Tim | Complete

“Who are you trying to convince?”

Jon gives up, letting his head sag against Tim’s shoulder. “I don’t know.”

aka Elias gets tired of Jon and Tim's bickering, sends them away for a "team-building" weekend trip, and is sure to book them a room with only one bed

↳ this has everything you’d need from a “oh no there’s only one bed” fic. someone please get these men therapy.

if you try, sometimes (you get what you knead) by @ajcrawly​ | 3.5K | S1-S4 | Jon/Martin, Tim/Sasha | Complete

It starts with an abundance of boeuf bourguignon and ends up as a team tradition.

Food and love in uncertain times.

↳ more found family fic, this time with a diverse og!archival staff and food as a metaphor for love. hurt in all the right ways. made me hungry in the process.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

time travel aus, amirite? since we’ve all decided to start talking about our ideas, i thought i’d throw my hat into the ring. i’ve actually had this idea for a while, i just wasn’t sure what to do with it because i barely have the patience for one-shots, let alone the continuous plotted longfic this would need

it’s not my idea, of course, i’m incapable of original thought. it’s based off this can-i-really-call-it-a-genre-if-it’s-two-fics-with-the-same-premise where some combination of maedhros, maglor, elros, and elrond land in the blessed realm before - even the unchaining, in my take, when the ambarussa are still children and the world is blissful. it’s more specifically my take on this fic, which takes elrond and elros from very early in their captivity and maedhros from just before the silmaril theft and maglor from several centuries into the second age. i just plugged my own characterisations into it, and, uh. the specific setup this not-genre uses is that maitimo and makalaurë *~mysteriously disappear,~* throwing their extended family into chaos, blah blah blah, and then a few decades later -

well. with my characterisations, we have a nightmare hellbeast who’s burned up everything he used to be in singular pursuit of an unreachable goal and has carved his very self into a weapon, a completely drained beaten-up husk barely cognisant of reality past the screaming in his mind who’s so utterly broken it’s debatable if he even counts as an elda, and two extremely young extremely traumatised children in a completely unfamiliar land- and skyscape whose only adult they can maybe-kind-of trust is currently bleeding from the eyes and shrieking wordless notes of utter despair

yeah, this au’s Fun. elrond and elros have maybe eight words of quenya between them, most of which are obscene, maedhros will act completely normal until he suddenly stabs himself in the arm because can’t this stupid hallucination end already, he has a character arc to tank, and maglor seems completely unaware he’s not still on the beach having the same cyclic arguments with the ghosts of the people he failed. the elves of valinor aren’t completely unprepared to deal with this, at least not the ones who remember cuiviénen, but it’s still a massive shock to see two of the children they came to the land of the gods to protect twisted and scarred like the worst victims of the dark. especially since noone can figure out why

so yeah. i have trouble finishing oneshot collections, so i doubt i’ll ever write this out in full, but i do have a lot of Scenes. fëanáro staring in utter horror at the oath, whispering ‘i made this.’ elros and elrond’s somewhat hole-filled explanation of their backstory devolving into a sindarin argument, and when the family asks tyelkormo what they’re talking about he freezes before saying ‘they’re arguing about whether maitimo killed their mother.’ the moment maglor finally managed to get through what happened after they got the silmarils to maedhros, who immediately switches from off-the-cuff self-harm to well-planned suicide attempts. the five-minute period the family hellspawn’s working theory was ‘they’re maitimo and makalaurë from an alternate universe where we’re evil’ (‘is there an evil version of me??? does he eat kids???????’ - tyelko) finwë going full bulldoze taniquetil in the background. fun times, might write some snippets in the future

but i like to think through the mechanics of this kind of time travel story too much, so i started wondering where maitimo and makalaurë, yanno, went. i quickly came to the conclusion that they probably swapped places with their evil future selves, giving me three time travel aus for the price of one! technically four but (a) i’m not sure if or with who the twins would swap and (b) if they did their alternate selves are probably having a really bad time and i don’t particularly want to think about it. the stories maitimo and makalaurë are in... they’re not necessarily any happier, but they are a lot more wtftastic

maitimo falls asleep under the light of the trees, on a relaxing retreat from the demands of court life and family-induced disasters. he wakes up in a world that’s almost completely dark, surrounded by plants he’s never seen before and wearing clothing designed for a much warmer climate, the scent of death in the air. now permanently separated from all his old problems, maitimo rapidly acquires several exciting new ones, including but not limited to:

everyone he ever loved being dead or worse

the lone possible exception, his last surviving little brother, being an almost unrecognisable blood-drenched kinslayer who hates everything in the universe especially himself

said blood-drenched kinslayer almost immediately imprinting on him like a grouchy murderous duckling

his future self having apparently wanted to kill even more people, why

getting dogpiled by like thirty dudes in full armour the instant they showed up at the army of the west’s camp to surrender

getting soul-scanned by eönw two minutes later. not fun

arafinwë pulling him into an enormous hug and then bursting into tears

the subsequent explanation as to just what happened to him and his brothers, which somehow got worse after he’d already thought they’d hit rock bottom like four separate times

proceeding to lose a staring contest with findaráto

the way everyone in camp looks at him like he’s an incredibly dangerous wild animal that might bite at any time

how if half of what arafinwë said is true he can’t even blame them, fuck, fuck

the twin half-elven(?????????????) princes he and his brother apparently kidnapped and held hostage for years, inflicting unimaginable cruelties as far as anyone knows

his first meeting with the kids happening when elrond broke into where they were holding maglor to scream at him in very loud very fast very angry sindarin for like half an hour

maglor just staring at him, eyes wide, ears pinned back, the whole time, and then trying to maul the first guard who mocked him for it

getting saddled with kinslayer containment duties in the aftermath of that whole incident

elrond punching him in the collarbone when he tried to apologise, shouting ‘you weren’t there, don’t you dare try to tell me what it was like’

elros’ visible half second of pure terror after the blow hit home

elros then using recognisable techniques from maitimo’s debate team circuit during a speech to the edain

like, clearly some shit did happen, but it’s obviously not what the local leadership’s afraid of

this sour-faced scar-covered warrior slipping out of the shadows in an unpopulated part of camp, kneeling before him, intoning ‘the swords of the host remain at your disposal my lord’ and then immediately vanishing

he didn’t recognise them until after they’d left but they were definitely one of his philosophy club friends, what even

just generally having woken up in a future a thousand times worse than his darkest nightmares

his natural instinct is to try and fix things, but how?? what’s even left to fix????

maglor sometimes goes into these unhinged desperate spiralling rambles directed at the older brother who exists in his head rather than the one in front of his eyes. whatever’s left of maitimo’s biggest little brother is clearly in so much pain

all the things he’s trying extremely hard not to think about because if he slows down enough to he’s pretty sure he’ll collapse

all the people he’s never met who hate him for pretty understandable reasons and whose social structure he now has to learn to have any hope of making it out of All This

the edain’s collective insistence on calling him pasthros

curufinwë isn’t even a hundred how does he have a kid

makalaurë, on the other hand, wakes up on a beach beneath a giant glowing orb. finding himself in a land so much barer than what he knows, among people whose souls don’t even work like his, his initial working theory is he’s been abducted by aliens

[thedamageofherdays]

This is my first weekly reading log. I've been reading some incredibly lovely fics so I figured why not share that excitement with others :) Just a little warning that most of the fics this week are explicit. My favourites are marked with 🌻

🌻 SPELEVINK by Ginny_Potter @hipsterdiva [Stucky, 9k, General]

Bucky’s back. He’s leaving me messages through IKEA plushies, Steve texts Sam. jesus christ, rogers, Sam texts back.

Or, Bucky lives in an IKEA Tiny Apartment, Steve is a dancing monkey once again, and somehow they find their way back to each other.

🌻 I Want To Teach You A Lesson In The Worst Kind Of Way by fandomfluffandfuck @fandomfluffandfuck [Stucky, 61k, Explicit]

Bucky is not an arts major, not even close. He's getting his master's in Biotechnology with dreams of going into the sort of half related medical field of biotechnology prosthetics, inspired by a childhood pet, a three legged cat called Alpine. However, the schooling system (one that normally he doesn't mind too much because he's that much of a nerd) demands that he take a variety of classes; even if they don't pertain towards his immediate interests. An art elective is one of those required unrelated classes. He's not interested.

Not yet anyway; whether he likes it or not he might end up discovering an interest in art. Or. At least an interest in the professor teaching the art credit fulfilling class as it pertains to his... non-school related interests...

i got it bad for you by howdoyousleep @howdoyousleep3 [Evanstan RPF, 4k, Explicit]

“Yeah? Older?”

“Yeah yeah, just…I don’t know, the beard? This fucking hair? Just…I don’t know— older,” he manages to chuckle nervously, gasping into Chris’ mouth when their squirming leads their dicks into lining up beautifully. Seb aches, yearns, mouth watering as he mewls, both hands in Chris’ hair as he licks into Sebastian’s mouth.

And then Chris pulls back, breathes hot on Sebastian’s cheek, his bottom lip, croons, “Like your Daddy?”

bet i look nice on you by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 1k, Explicit]

“C’mon, you said you wanted to feel, said you were up for a challenge,” Steve taunts lowly, peering up at Bucky from where he sits. “Daddy, want it. Daddy, wanna feel you for days,” he tacks on in a nasally exaggerated voice, one used with the full intention on making Bucky embarrassed, uncomfortable.

It works.

Aut Cum Scuto, Aut In Scuto by humapuma [Stucky, 33k, Explicit]

Bucky never thought he would find his Omega at just twenty-years-old. Mates usually found each other around twenty-two or twenty-three, so he was overjoyed to learn that their bond was so strong, they were drawn to one another early. Until Bucky's family attorney informed him that his Omega - Steve - was not only a long-time activist and a successful nurse, he was actually thirty-six.

Steve never thought he would find his Alpha. It had been more than ten years since they were supposed to come together, and he had long-since given up waiting. So, when a kid slammed into him on the street and tried to claim him, Steve was more than a little surprised.

Can these two overcome their differences, presumptions, and their pasts to find one another on the other side?

I didn't want the scars to show by Bittersweet_In_Boston [Stucky, 8k, Mature]

“This is Steve, one of my...co-workers,” Barton says teasingly. “Steve, this is James Barnes, the tattoo artist I was telling you about.”

Steve has heretofore been dumbstruck as he looks at James Barnes, because he is the most beautiful human Steve’s ever met, with the possible exception of Peggy 70 years ago. His long dark hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head, and it frames the face of an angel, with a long-aquiline nose, a wide sensitive mouth, cheekbones to cry over, and a jawline that could kill at twenty paces, covered with a light layer of stubble.

And most importantly, large grey-blue eyes that light up and scan over Steve as Barnes shakes his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” he says in his husky voice, and this is where Steve has to remind himself how to be a functioning human being in a society.

“Good to meet you too, James,” Steve says, his voice only cracking a little. James’ hand is warm and strong and dry, and Steve could happily hold it forever. He does let go after a few seconds like a normal person, however.

“Bucky. Call me Bucky,” says James. “Everyone does.”

“OK...Bucky,” Steve says, and this time his voice behaves.

🌻 grassroots by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 11k, Explicit]

Bucky has been waiting for a moment like this.

Under the guise of a work trip, he joins Senator Rogers in New York City for his good friend Sam Wilson’s campaign fundraiser for Governor of New York. All that consumes Bucky’s mind at first is Steve’s insistence on sharing a room, a bed, so much so that he is caught entirely off guard by something much less conspicuous—one Steve Rogers back in Brooklyn.

In just two days Bucky learns more about Steve than he could have ever anticipated, and although it’s only forty-eight hours, it begins to shift their relationship, blind to the two of them. From stories about his mama to where to get the best pizza in the borough, Steve shares a side of himself with Bucky that few have ever been able to see before…

🌻 I Can't Do Everything (But I'll Do Anything For You) by Musette22 (with art from rufferto) @musette22 [Stucky, 24k, Explicit]

Steve Rogers cares about a lot of things, but dating isn’t one of them – much to his fellow Avengers’ bemusement. It’s just never been very high on his list of priorities, falling somewhere behind his work, his friends, his hobbies, and that excellent pepperoni pizza from Vinnie’s on Flatbush Ave.

That is until one night, Natasha drags Steve out to a charity music concert by some hotshot singer that Steve has never actually heard of (which would surprise exactly no one, seeing as Steve is still partial to his records and his radio plays). And as soon as Steve lays eyes on Grammy-award winning musician and international heartthrob James Barnes for the very first time, suddenly he wonders if maybe dating wouldn’t be so bad after all. Dating James Barnes, specifically, that is. The question is just: how does one go about that? Especially one like Steve, who’s never wooed anybody in his century-long life, let alone a man. Let alone a man with long, dark hair, tattoos all over his arms, and a fanbase that rivals Steve’s own.

It’s not like he can just go up to him and say something like, "You and me babe, how about it?"

[darylsgirl]

Hes just like the Sun Part 2 Daryl x Reader 18+

Summary: Reader goes missing, Daryl gives up the search after only a few weeks and starts getting closer to another woman. When he finds sign of the reader again but rick is the one to save you. Daryl cant handle seeing you broken and pulls away.

Warnings: A lot of cussing, Domestic violence, Assault

*Hello my lovelies! This was meant to be one long chapter but I've split it into two parts so expect a part 3 :) As always please let me know what you think of this chapter and if i can improve! As always i hope your having a lovely day!*

Part one                            Part Three

It had only been 4 months since that glorious night with Daryl, Since he had professed his love to you and you to him. 

He had spent every waking moment since then showing his love. Proving he would protect you against anything, He couldn’t have known that he would be away when you needed him most… 

You had just been to the gates and waved Daryl goodbye. He had left on a run with Rick, Rosita, Sasha and Abraham. Sniffing slightly you headed back to your home ready to just get in bed and have his smell engulf you for a few hours before you needed to go to work. 

You knew it was silly he would only be gone a week tops he said but that may as well been a century to you. 

You also knew for the next week you would lay awake at night worried out of your mind wondering if something was going to stop him coming back to you. The thought crushed your chest. You couldn’t be without him now, He was your sun, Your every breath. 

You made it back to your’s and Daryl’s bed wrapping your arms around yourself snuggling into his pillow, It was so strange how the smell of Motor oil could be so Damn comforting! You prayed silently to yourself that the first lead they were going to check out would pay off as that would mean he would be back to you within 2 days.

You lay there hugging yourself tightly for a few hours before begrudgingly dragging yourself into the shower and heading to work. The infirmary was bustling that day fortunately for you, unfortunately for your neighbours. There seemed to be a bug going around the town, Which is why Daryl had to leave you in the first place to go and get life saving antibiotics.

It was ironic that illnesses that could be cured with one pill before could cause so much death now when antibiotics are becoming so difficult to find. You looked around the room and silently pleaded with god to let them find something quickly! 

It was pushing 10pm when you were finally on your way home after a final check on one of your elderly patients. You couldn’t wait to get in the shower and scrub the day away and knowing Carol she would have dinner waiting for you. You smiled thinking of Carol you really did love that woman, She had become like your mother taking care of you and always being there. 

Distracted by your thoughts your guard was down and you hadn’t noticed him dart out of the darkness between the houses. 

You looked around wildly fighting the arms that had clamped around your mouth and chest dragging you backwards. You froze,You knew the sound of that breathing anywhere, You could feel the ice in your veins. It was fucking Spencer. 

Daryl’s POV. 

It had been 8 days since he had left. Y/N was going to kill him for being too long and worrying her. He pushed his bike to the limits just like the first night he had met her racing back towards the gate, Where he knew she would be waiting. Grinning from ear to ear with excitement bubbling in his chest he saw the gates come into view. 

When he got close he only saw Carol waiting for him, He never expected the news she was about to give him. The second the words “She’s….gone….Missing” crossed her lips he ran towards their home screaming for her. Carol hot on his heels, He charged into the house straight to their room “Y/N? Y/N?” he ran from room to room in the home screaming still for her before going outside and collapsing at Carol’s feet. 

His fingers were ripping at his hair and face desperately trying to cling to anything he could. “WHERE IS SHE” He screamed up at Carol. She silently joined him in the middle of the road pulling him into her arms while he sobbed.

Y/N pov

You watched him through the hole in the black paint, It had taken you a while. The paint was thick but you had finally managed to make a hole big enough to see out of but small enough for Spencer not to notice.

Your heart broke watching your man screaming for you, You’d have given anything to be able to rush out of there and wrap your arms around him and tell him everything was ok, Just as he had done for you so many times. You had never seen him so distraught and you hated yourself for being the cause of that. You tried to scream but only a rasping whisper came out of you, It was like the nightmare you always had being so close to help but not being able to call out. 

Then you heard it, The boots coming down the stairs you flung yourself into the corner hands covering every inch of skin you could. You heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open, Footsteps were closer now. He approached the door of the laundry room you were being kept in. The light hurt your eyes as the door flew open.

Daryl Pov

Once Carol had gotten him to calm down a little with the help off Rick and the others who had been on the run they pulled him into the house and to the kitchen Island settling him on a stool whilst Carol hurriedly made tea. 

Once everyone had a cup, Rick finally spoke up “C’mon Carol your killing us here. What do you mean Y/N is missing. What happened?” 

Daryl met Carol’s eyes now and listened intently as she started her explanation, Choosing to give just the facts as she didn’t think Daryl could handle much more. 

“We realised she was missing around midnight on the day you left, When she still hadn’t come home. I went to find Denise who said that she had left work at half 9 and would be stopping in to see Mrs Turner on her way home. I asked Mrs Turner who said Y/N had left around half an hour later.” 

“I’ve spoken to everyone in the town, Most were asleep at the time and No one has seen her since. So we know she went missing within those two blocks around 10pm that night. There is also no gear, weapons or food missing from anyone’s home so we know she didn’t just choose to leave” 

Rick put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, sighing “You should go get some rest brother, Leave it to us” 

Daryl growled throwing Rick’s arm from him “I. Aint. Goin. Fuckin.Nowhere” He spat through gritted teeth. Rick looked over worried before deciding to let it go, God knows if it was him he wouldn’t have left either. “Ok so tell us Carol, Where have you searched so far?” Daryl had never paid more attention to anything in his life. 

After formulating a plan between the six of you, Daryl pushed himself up from the island feeling grateful for a moment that you had arrived not too long after sunrise and you had a good few hours of sunlight left to search. He silently made a promise to her that he wouldn’t stop till she was back in his arms again. 

Y/N 

You woke in your basement cell shaking from the dreams of the night you were taken. The first few weeks had been the worst. He had inflicted every punishment imaginable on you trying to break you. He laid off those when he realised that wasn’t going to happen. As long as you knew Daryl was out there looking for you, You could keep going too for him. You had to keep hope in your heart he was going to find you. Spencer still took you everyday but you had stopped fighting it now and just became numb as you knew you had to just lay silent or face the cattle prod. He really seemed to like that thing.

You still saw Daryl in the street sometimes, At night sitting on the porch alone with a whiskey and a cigarette looking haunted staring into the night. 

There was one day you dared to believe you could have been saved. You woke to hear him outside of your blacked out window, He had fought with Spencer and pinned him on the front lawn while Rick had searched the house. Finding nothing, She couldn’t understand how they had completely missed the basement! Every house in Alexandria had one! You knew if Daryl hadn’t been out there with him he would have known to check here, he would have found you. Every part of her was screaming for her to call out and scream Daryl’s name and begging him to save her. 

She had tried a few times to scream but only a quiet rasping breath left her, Her throat was red raw and no matter how hard she tried nothing would come out. 

Daryl had let Spencer back up still glaring at him While Rick explained “Look man we had to check, You’re the only person in this town that could of possibly wanted to hurt Y/N We had to be sure” 

Spencer replied “I haven’t even looked at Y/N since that day. I did as I was told and kept to myself. I’ve done my job for Alexandria. I didn’t do anything, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep him away from me and leave me alone!” At that Daryl lunged for him again with Rick stopping him before he got to Spencer. 

“Fair is fair now we’ve checked your house we’ll leave you be” Rick grabbed by the shoulders and walked him back to your house and inside to calm him down. 

Spencer’s Pov

He watched them leave and darted back into the house, Stupid fuckin hillbilly he thought to himself, Walking into kitchen he grabbed a water and let his mind wander. 

He had kept his head down and bided his time, Deanna, his mother had finally gotten rick to agree to let him move back into his home. Almost immediately he had set to work in the laundry room downstairs, Moving the machines out, Moving a mattress in, Adding a deadbolt to the top and bottom of the door. Perfect, Now he just had to wait a little longer for his revenge.

 He was going to get that little bitch back for the humiliation, She didn’t get to make a fool out of him and then be happy! Making him watch them both across the road night after night all on each other. 

He bet she knew what she was doing too, Teasing him like this. Flaunting herself all over town with him! What she was even doing with the dirty redneck he would never know when she could have him. He was better for her, She needed him and he was going to make her see it. 

Two months, Two months he had waited and watched pretending to have no interest. When finally the opportunity presented itself, He was walking the back way home trying to avoid the eyes people now made at him when he saw her. 

She was leaving Mrs Turners and walking alone down the empty dark street, He waited until she was about to turn onto their street where the houses were either unoccupied or all the lights were off when he sprinted towards her wrapping his hand around her mouth and dragging her backwards through the back gardens and into his, She started fighting again when she saw he was taking her into the house. He overpowered her easily taking her down the stairs and into the laundry room, He threw her on the mattress on the floor and left bolting the door behind him. She could scream all she wanted, No one would hear her now. 

Daryl’s Pov

After a few weeks it was just Him, Rick and Carol still searching. They were all sitting on his front porch, His eyes scanning every blade of grass as he had been for weeks. 

Rick cleared his throat “Brother you can’t keep this up anymore and I know what you're gonna say so don’t rip my head off but you need to rest. You need to sit down and eat a real meal or you will be in no condition to keep searching. We’ve looked everywhere in a 100 mile radius and there is no sign of her. I’m not sayin give up on her brother but you need to start taking care of yourself Y/N would hate it if she knew you weren’t” 

Daryl felt the sobs coming up his throat, Rick was right there was nothing to go on. No tracks. No sightings. No sign of any trouble or walkers. She had just vanished into thin air. 

Carol was at his side again consoling him “Ya right Rick, I hate ya but ya right” He let Carol guide him back into the house and to the spare bedroom, He hadn’t been able to set foot in their room, It just wasn’t the same without her. 

She lay him on the bed and left to go grab him some of one of the many crock pot dinners the housewives of Alexandria had dropped off for him, Now they knew he wasn’t gay they were circling him like vulchers all vying to be the one to take Y/N’s place if she didn’t return. He had ignored all of their pity, They could keep it. He didn’t need it. 

The only solace he had found over this time was Nicole, She was the one he had saved a few months back when they had stumbled across her alone in the street and brought her to the infirmary where Denise & Y/N had patched her up before the Town had decided to take her in. 

He can’t remember how his unlikely friendship with her had come from she was just there always at his side, The only one to not look at him like a degenerate to be pitied. They sat in comfortable silence at first before they had started opening up to each other, She was pretty he guessed she had nothin on Y/N but he was still flattered when she had asked him for help with combat. He knew it was probably just an excuse to distract him but he was grateful for the distraction nonetheless. 

Y/N pov

You couldn’t believe he had given up, for weeks he had heard him shouting her name and heard them sitting on their front porch discussing how they would find her tomorrow.. But Tomorrow never came.

He still sat on the porch every night but now he was no longer alone, He no longer looked haunted. You guessed you were happy that he looked happier, more relaxed and even sometimes laughed. You just couldn’t stand that Spencer was right. You had probably just been a passing fling to him, The memories you had of Daryl were becoming warped with you spending your days analysing everything to try to find a moment where that seemed to be true, You were a fool and fell hook line and sinker.

Now you knew he had given up on you, Spencer didn’t need to try and break you any more, You were already broken. 

He had started letting you out of the room for longer. At first it was just to use the bathroom and then to make you cook for him. Soon you were out the entire time he was home and only locked up at night he would make you lie in the bed with him all night pawing at you or subjecting you to monstrosities you couldn't even fathom or dare to think about then lock you up in the morning before he left. This was the only time you could actually sleep, safe from him knowing he wasn’t here to bring you back out again. 

Throughout you had refused to even give him the satisfaction of speaking to him or making a noise during any of this. 

The routine became monotonous. Leave the cell, take birth control, make his dinner, sit on the floor by his chair, Wait to see if he gave you any scraps. Go to bed, Lie awake all night crying. Back to cell. Cry some more and then finally sleep before the routine started all over again. You had stopped trying to see him or anything outside, You just couldn’t take it. 

You took a particularly bad beating this morning for burning his breakfast, Hugging yourself on the bare mattress you passed out from the pain.

Daryl’s pov

He still felt guilt for giving up the search but Rick was right, There was nothing to be seen. It didn’t stop his eyes from constantly searching for some clue that she had ever been here. 

He looked down from the tower and saw Nicole approaching waving at him to come down. He took one last look out over the walls before climbing down to her

“Hey D.. Spencer’s been put on guard duty straight after you, Do you want me to take over?” 

“Nah Girl i’m fine. His face won’t be if he tries to talk to me though” 

She smiled up at him and reached forward giving him a lingering hug, Daryl cleared his throat starting to feel a little uncomfortable. She backed her head away from him slowly looking into his eyes and kissed him gently before pulling away fully and looking at her feet. 

Daryl was still frozen in place not knowing how to react when she mumbled “Okay then, Well i guess ill see you later?” He just nodded and rushed back up to the tower. Guilt back in his chest. He hadn’t known that Nicole had felt like that about him and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. His heart still fully belonged to Y/N and he didn’t think he would ever have room for anyone else, not at least until he knew what had happened to her. 

Daryl resumed his aimless search beyond the gates searching all the faces of the walkers who had been put down recently to see if any of them could have any of Y/N’s features. He heard Spencer talking to Rick and figured his watch was probably up.

Daryl climbed down from the tower and faced them both waiting for them to finish their conversation, He noticed Nicole heading over and tried to ignore her. He looked Spencer over and that's when he saw it.

Rushing Spencer grabbing him by his neck and throwing him against the gate. “WHERE IS SHE” Rick tried to pull Daryl off of him. “Daryl c’mon brother we searched his place he had nothin to do with it” 

“Oh yeah? Then what’s this?” He reached forward ripping your sunflower from the lapel of Spencer's coat and offered it to Rick. 

“This could be anyone’s Daryl, Let’s not jump to the wrong conclusion” Rick mumbled 

Daryl Growled back “Turn it over, It’s got mine and hers initials on the back.”

Rick turned the pin over and saw it did in fact have the initials on the back. Giving the pin back to Daryl.

“Spencer, Why do you have that?” Rick said, pulling his gun out and training it on Spencer's head.

Spencer had gone sheet white “Yeah it’s hers, She left it at the house when she left me” He shrugged “Couldn’t have meant that much to her” He smirked slightly causing Daryl to jab him in the throat. 

Rick pulled Daryl away “She were wearin it when I left Asshole, The day she went missin, Na tell me WHERE IS SHE” 

Spencer was silent now, Holding his throat and gasping. Daryl turned to Rick “We needa search his place again, Naw!” 

They both lunged forward and grabbed Spencer dragging him between them towards his home, On the march over a few of their original group followed. “What’s going on?” Rosita asked

“We found proof he knows where Y/N is” Rick replied shortly, still dragging Spencer. The group followed more urgently now. They threw Spencer on the ground in front of the house, “Watch him” Daryl growled at Abe who nodded in response. 

They tore through the house searching again. “There’s still nothin here Daryl, We need to interrogate him get some answers'' 

“Nah she's here, I can feel it. Were missin somethin” Daryl’s eyes scanned the hallway “Wait, That bookcase... It aint meant to be there, Help me move it” They both grabbed a side and shifted it. “The basement, This has to be it” Rick said excitedly. They opened the door and ran down the stairs, Eyes instantly locking on the dead bolt on the laundry room door. “There” Rick pointed towards the door Daryl ran over “Y/N” He yelled.

Daryl unlocked the door and what he saw brought him to his knees. “Y/N” He said softly this time. Crawling over to you and shaking you. “Y/N Please Y/N Answer me” He sobbed. He stood up and backed out of the room into Rick. He couldn’t look anymore; he didn’t want to remember her like this. Naked and battered. Dead on a thin mattress on the floor. He was too late, She was still human so this could have only just happened. He was so close.  She had been here only a few houses away all this time, He would never forgive himself for this “It’s ok, I’ll take care of it. Get outta here Daryl” 

Y/N

Daryl? You tried to open your eyes but they were just too heavy. You were sure you heard him and it sounded close. You fought your eyes for a few minutes begging them to open when you felt something being dragged over you, Your hand instinctively reached up to protect yourself. 

Hands grabbed at your shoulders and shook you. “Y/N...Y/N? Can you hear me?” You nodded your head slowly, finally managing to open your eyes. Your eyes roamed the room looking for Daryl. You were sure you had heard him. You tried to speak to ask where he was but all that came out was a painful croak. 

Rick pulled you into his arms softly “It’s ok, It’s ok now. You’re safe. I got you” He muttered softly pulling you closer to him. “I’m going to carry you outta here now, Is that okay Y/N?” You nodded and let him lift you into his arms gently feeling his skin against yours as he had used his shirt to try and cover your nakedness. He adjusted the shirt so it was covering you more fully and carried you through the house to the front porch. 

You saw Daryl now he was on his knees on the floor hands covered in blood, His head in Nicole's arms and in front of him was Spencer he wasn’t moving his eyes were wide, He was dead. 

You tried to call out to Daryl again reaching your arm out slightly. “Shh Y/N Don’t try to talk. We gotta get you to Denise” Rick looked at you and saw the blood staining the shirt he had used to cover you. “Shit, We gotta go now. Stay awake for me Y/N Just stay awake” 

He took off running with you still in his arms “DENISE, DENISE GET OUT HERE NOW” “Stay awake Y/N. Don’t you dare go to sleep on me” You gripped rick tighter with your arms trying to reassure him that you were still conscious. 

Daryl looked up tentatively not believing what he was seeing, Two minutes ago he was so sure you were dead and now Rick was rushing you away, It made no sense. 

They placed you on the examination table in the infirmary Denise quickly removing and assessing your wounds. “Rick grab me some morphine from that cabinet, I also need a needle, wire and some gauze should all be in there” 

He hurriedly put them all on the table next to you and watched her start work, He looked down at you and realised you were naked again. “Uhm Denise if there's nothing else you need. I’ll go and update the guys waiting” You looked at him panicked now grabbing his hand and shook your head no at him. 

“Ok Y/N, OK. I got you, I’m not going anywhere” He sat with you and held your hand the entire time Denise was working you over only letting go to help her or grab something. 

“We’re done, Would you take her through to the other room and get her in a more comfortable bed? And I'll go grab her some food and water.” He nodded at her and mumbled an apology to you before putting his arms around you and lifting you back to his chest again. 

You were shocked by how comforting it was feeling his skin on yours, You nuzzled your head into his chest as he carried you, Finally feeling safe in someone’s arms, Rick tried to put you down on the bed but you couldn’t face this feeling being gone, You knew if he did you would wake up and it would all be a dream. 

Rick looked at you torn but ultimately decided to lie down with you letting you curl into his body. Denise was back then eyeing the two of you before handing over the tray with stew and a bottle of water, Rick nodded his head at her before offering you the tray. The stew was heaven going down you smiled up at Denise gratefully. 

Washing it down with the bottle of water, You tried to speak again. “Daryl..?” Thank god you were scared after two months it may have taken a lot longer for your vocal chords to warm up. Rick just looked at you and shrugged “I thought he’d of been in here by now, I’m sure he will be along soon” 

You took another drink of water “Did he ever love me?” You croaked out desperately. You felt the tears fall down your face, “He never loved me” 

Rick cleared his throat “Any chance you can get her something to wear Denise?” 

Daryl’s pov

He felt Nicole's arms around him dragging him away from Spencer, He had killed her so he had killed him. Daryl had promised him he would, He just wished he had done it sooner, If he had, None of this shit would have happened and he would be lying in bed right now with Y/N happy. 

He was crying into Nicole's chest now wrapping his arms around her and holding on for dear life when he heard a commotion from behind him. He didn’t look. What was the point? Nothing mattered any more. 

Nicole was shaking him then “Daryl, Daryl look” You followed her eye line and saw her, Her eyes were open she was alive? 

He was acutely aware of everything now. He could hear rick screaming for help, Y/N curling arms around his neck as he ran. Carol at his side pulling him to his feet. “C’mon Daryl we gotta get you cleaned up.” He let Carol drag him home in shock. She turned to Nicole “I’ve got him now, I think you should get going. I need to get him to Y/N” She glared at her now, Nicole breaking under the glare “mm okay, I’ll come see you later D?” 

Carol snapped back “I don’t think that’s wise, Bye now” She pulled Daryl into the house with more urgency and sat him down on the same stool she sat him on when she told him Y/N was missing. Carol then brought a wet cloth over and started cleaning his hands, Cleaning the cloth and repeating until the blood was gone, Next she worked on his face and neck removing all signs of the fight with Spencer. 

As she was finishing up there was a frantic knocking on the door, Rushing over to answer she found Denise on the porch. “Hey Carol, Sorry to bother you so late! Any chance you could grab some clothes for Y/N and something for her to sleep in? Oh um also…. Daryl….Could Rick borrow a shirt?” 

Carol smiled at her “Come in Denise, I’ll just be a minute” Carol disappeared down to the basement while Denise made her way to Daryl. 

“You ok?” He briefly nodded back at her. “She is too, you know in case you were wondering?” Was she making it out like he didn’t care? Was she fuckin kiddin? Of course he cared. He just couldn’t face her yet, The shame was overbearing. She had been so close and he hadn’t been the one to save her. 

Carol came back with a handful of clothes and gave them to Daryl. “Go on now, You’ll take these and let poor Denise get some rest!” He just nodded numb knowing better than to even try and argue with Carol. Getting to his feet he shuffled to the door and down to the infirmary. It took him 5 minutes of pacing outside the door before he could get up the courage to go in. 

He knocked on the door Denise had told him they would be in and his heart broke again. There she was still as beautiful as ever, Still naked and wrapped in the wrong arms. It was a nightmare he would have most nights, He threw his shirt at Rick. Glaring at him, Rick tried to move away from Y/N now Daryl was here. “Noo, You said you wouldn’t leave me Rick” She croaked, Rick looked over at Daryl Apologetically before trying to calm Y/N

Daryl knelt on his knees at the side of the bed and tried to hold her hand, Y/N pulled away as if she had been shocked. Fresh tears running down her face. 

She looked up at Rick again. “It’s ok Y/N your safe, He won’t hurt you” 

Y/N’s POV

Daryl was here, He was really here after the last two months desperate to have him see you, You now didn’t know what to do. You were scared he didn’t love you, So why would he be here now. 

You looked at his warily seeing the torment on his face when you pulled away from him and into Rick. Rick said it was safe but was it? You let Rick pull away this time. “Ok, If you say so. Could you uh give us a minute?” 

“Sure Y/N i'll leave you guys too it” 

You nodded a thanks and watched him leave throwing a shirt over his head as he went. You sat in silence watching the door Rick left through. 

“Y/N” His voice was trembling. “Y/N please look at me” “Baby PLEASE” You flinched and wrapped your arms around yourself when he raised his voice. 

“No baby no, Ya aint gotta be scared of me, Please i’d never, I couldn’t. I love ya Y/N” 

Your eyes flared feeling the anger “No you don’t, I could see you. I saw you give up on me. I saw you laughing and getting closer to her. I was made to watch all of it, While he told me how much you didn’t care and all the things you were doing that I couldn’t see…. He said….He said you didn’t love me..,You can’t love me...Look at me Daryl who could ever love me now” 

You felt the bed sink as he climbed onto it with you, You tried to squirm away from him but his arms found you first, He pulled you into his chest and you instantly felt calm...That damn motor oil smell mixed with him was enough to make you melt. You hated that he had this effect on you even now. 

“I’m so sorry baby, I should’ve been here to protect ya, I should’ve been the one to save ya.” He was hugging you tighter and tighter now “I thought ya were dead, I was gonna join ya” He murmured into your hair. 

“I never gave up on ya, not really. I searched every face i saw waiting for ya to come back to me” 

You still stayed silent, too scared to interrupt him you knew he wouldn’t open up like this to you again and as much as your mind was telling you he was lying to you, Your heart was opening up to him again. You wrapped your arms around him suddenly sobbing. 

“I aint ever stop loving you sunflower, Ya my whole heart”

“Why...Look at me i’m ruined” You stuttered

“Ya aint ruined, Ya strong, incredible beautiful” 

“I’m not Daryl, I let him break me. You don’t know the things he did if you knew you’d hate me”

“I’d never hate you Y/N, No matter what he did it wouldn’t change how I feel. Ya can tell me anything.” 

You lay in each other's arms till morning in silence both wide awake just grateful you were in this moment together. When the sun started coming through the windows he broke the silence. 

“Let’s get ya dressed k?” You nodded and let him help you out of bed and pull your pyjamas over you. Once you had finished Denise walked in. “Good morning Y/N How are you feeling?” 

“Sore...Tired… Can i go home now?”

“I’d really like you to stay here for a few more days so i can keep an eye on you but you know your body. D’ya think you will be okay?” 

You nodded quickly to her “Can you took me home? I’d really like to be in my own bed - I mean your bed….If that’s okay?” You looked up at him nervously half expecting him to tell you it was no longer your home. 

He nodded at you. Denise piped up again “Fine but complete bed rest, I’ll be checking on you every few hours i don’t want to catch you on your feet, not even once until you’ve healed more” 

Daryl pulled you into his arms sweeping you off your feet. “Ya heard the lady stay off your feet, Thank ya Doc” 

He strode out of the office quickly happy to have you back in his arms again. It seemed the whole town was out to see you leave waiting on news, Daryl growled at the ones who tried to approach and carried you home as quickly as he could, He paused at the door to the basement. “Ya sure Y/N?” You nodded at him happily “I’m sure” 

He carried you down the stairs and lowered you gently to the bed. You noticed there was a thin layer of dust in here his pillow was even exactly as you had left it. 

Daryl rubbed the back of his head nervously. “Ya uhm i haven’t been in here since well since you were” You grimaced the thought of him in this bed was one of the thoughts that had gotten you through. 

“I’ll let ya sleep Y/N Ya don need me hoverin” 

“Daryl I need you here, I need to know that when I wake up it wasn’t all a dream and you’re still here. Please don’t leave me” Silently he went to his side of the bed and lay down, Arms pinned at his side. You giggled slightly and stopped the feeling and sound so alien to you now, He looked at you curiously as you touched your lips in awed confusion. 

You lifted your head naturally as you always did, This was your prompt for him to squeeze his arm through the gap. You were happy when he followed suit and pulled you to him. 

He breathed in the scent of you “I’m here now baby” This was the moment you had been longing for the entire time you were apart you smiled as you drifted asleep in his arms. 

You had listened to doctors orders for the first time in your life allowing Daryl and Carol to take care of you, You had seen Nicole come around for Daryl a few times with Carol shooing her away. You couldn’t blame her, Even if it did make you a little jealous. He was intoxicating. After the fourth day on bed rest you asked Daryl to help you shower. His eyes grew hard when he helped you undress the pain crossing his face when he saw you fully. He carried you into the shower and left to take off everything but his boxers and vest. He got back in with you and cradled you for a little while letting the water wash over you both before he started to gently wash you.

Feeling his hands run over your body was electric, You couldn’t believe you were capable of feeling such lust for him still. After everything your body had sustained it still wanted him with everything you had. 

He was careful not to touch you too much as he washed your body and then your hair. You could feel him growing hard on your back before he quickly moved his core away from you. 

He left the water on carrying you out of the shower, grabbed a towel wrapping you tightly and brought you back to the bed and leaving you to change. Taking a shirt and some lounge pants with him back to the bathroom. You could hear his wet clothes hit the floor, Knowing he was naked with water cascading down him in the next room was almost enough to send you over the edge. When he came back he was dry and fully dressed again any hint of his growing erection gone. You were sad to see this but also knew you weren’t fully ready for anything to happen yet. 

Daryl joined you in bed again still not speaking a word pulling you into his arms and allowing you to drift peacefully to sleep. 

You awoke suddenly his arms were gone and you could hear rustling on the other side of the room, Allowing your eyes to open slowly you looked over and there he was in all his glory back turned to you looking for a pair of boxers. You couldn’t have stopped yourself even if you had tried, He turned to you as you approached, wrapping your arms around him wanting to feel every inch of exposed beautiful skin. 

He gripped your arms pulling you off of him and quickly dressed. 

Finally he looked at you “Doc says you’re off bed rest now and Rick needs me on guard duty. I’m sorry Y/N but i need to go” You nodded sadly at him, You were being selfish keeping him to yourself all this time. It had probably been killing him being locked away with you not being able to help the group. That was your man. Completely and utterly selfless. 

He kissed you briefly on the forehead before turning and leaving, Calling over his shoulder. “Carol’s waiting upstairs for you, She made breakfast” 

Smiling to yourself it had been too long since you had had some quality time with Carol, Getting changed quickly and lacing your boots up and walking into the kitchen. Your smile grew wider when you saw her and the food on the counter. 

“PANCAKES!” You rushed to the plate “Thank you thank you thank you” You exclaimed digging in immediately. 

You could hear Carol chuckling next to you. “It’s so lovely to see you still love these” 

Then with a wink “I’m still not telling you the secret though” You groaned happily “I’ll get it out of you one day lady” 

She regarded you thoughtfully “Well how about a trade?” You raised your eyebrow at her. “What kind of trade?” You asked with a full mouth 

Carol tutted at you “Y/N don’t talk with your mouth full!” She scolded. You grumbled “Sorry!” 

You smiled at her again, eating the pancakes as quickly as you could, Washing it down with water. 

“Sooooo….What kind of trade?” 

“I’ll tell you my secret ingredient if you tell me what happened down there” You froze panic rising through your veins. She was at your side instantly arms around you comforting you “Y/N i’ve told you about Ed and when i started letting people in and talking about what he did to me it no longer defined me and i was able to move on. I just want the same for you. I won’t push but when you're ready to tell me. I’ll always be ready to listen” 

It was your turn to regard her thoughtfully this time. Sighing you started from the night he took you and forced the words out, Forcing yourself to get it off your chest. Carol looked at you in horror and tears in her eyes when you had finished. 

Pulling you closer she choked out “I’m so sorry Y/N I promise he can’t hurt you any more, He’s with my Ed now. Rotting in hell” 

She had been right once you had spoken about it and shared your horrors. It felt like she was carrying some of the weight for you. Breathing deeply, trying to enjoy the lessening of the pressure on your chest. You spent at least another hour with her just holding you while you both cried. 

Over the next few weeks you found yourself opening up to Carol more and more everyday. You knew that you would never fully be over it especially now things had gone back to how they were before you and Daryl had gotten together the first time. He came home at night wrapping you in his arms and left at first light barely speaking two words to you. 

Your head was wrapped in thoughts of him again when Carol spoke up.

“Ok enough of this now Sweetie, we're getting you out of this house” Carol smiled at you wiping your face with her hand. Jumping to your feet “Yes please!” You left the house arm in arm ignoring the stares from the neighbours and occasionally stopping to say hello to someone or have a quick conversation. You both stopped at the gates looking out. Carol looked up at the tower seeing Daryl was gone. 

“Now for the fun part! We’re going for some smash therapy!” She nodded at Sasha who handed you a bag with weapons, Discussing the small herd on the west side of the fence who were causing a little trouble. Sasha flung the gate open quickly and you both ran out. Laughing, finally feeling free outside of those stuffy gates you quickly turned serious, running after Carol gripping the two machete’s in your hands. 

You worked together drawing a few away at a time and swiftly taking them down. Exhausted but happy you made your way back to the gate knocking on the front. The gate opened sharply. 

Shit… It wasn’t Sasha.. 

Daryl’s POV

All this time he had waited for you to be back in his arms, He was torn. He felt like the luckiest man on the planet and also like the worst one. He felt so guilty every time he saw her face and what that monster had done to her beautiful body. 

When Denise had come to say that Y/N was cleared to resume as normal all he could think about was getting away from those mixed up feelings for a few hours and was even more grateful when Rick had asked him to go back to guard duty. 

He was just about to pull some clothes on when he felt her grab him, He pulled her arms from him pinning them to her side and quickly dressed feeling ashamed. He wanted her more than anything but he knew if he had felt her skin on his for even a moment longer he would give in to his primal urges and after all she had been through he couldn’t risk that now.

He ran out telling her about breakfast nodded to Carol and headed to the guard tower not thinking in his rush. He climbed up to the top and saw Nicole waiting for him “Uhm Hey Stranger” He smiled “Hey yaself” he reached over his shoulder to grab his - Shit. “I’ll be back gotta go get ma bow” Nicole nodded at him and turned her eyes back outwards. 

He climbed back down and ran back to the house. Not wanting to disturb Carol & Y/N he opened the door softly and crept into the hall, He was inches away from his bow when he heard Y/N talking “He forced himself on me night after night Carol and if i fought he made it a thousand times worse, He would cut me or use a cattle prod on me and if they weren’t close enough it was whatever was closest at the time.” Daryl froze in the hall her words washing revulsion over him.

He didn’t want to hear anymore but he couldn’t make his legs move so he stayed in place just listening to her talk wanting to kill the son of a bitch all over again. After what felt like an eternity he heard Carol console her and he was finally able to move his limbs again. Creeping back outside he felt the sickness come over him and darted behind the house loosing his breakfast. 

He made his way back to the guard tower trying to forget all the things he had heard. He found it even hard to look at her now the shame was becoming a part of him tearing him limb from limb every time she looked at him. He was sure she felt it too, How she didn’t hate him for what she had been through he didn’t know Daryl despised himself. 

He kept out of her way only coming home to sleep and comfort her in the night when it was too dark to see those beautiful eyes staring up at him. 

Nicole had become his solace once more, She was easy to be around and made him laugh, Forgetting for a few moments about the hidden guilt he carried with him now.

He was with her coming onto guard laughing as usual with Nicole's hand on his chest when he saw them return. Y/N had to be covered head to toe in walker blood. Seething he ran to the gate pulling it violently open.

Y/N Pov

“WHAT THE FUCK Y/N YA TRYING TO FUCKIN GET YASELF KILLED?” He screamed at you. You froze walking back into Carol in fear. 

She walked inside with you covering your body with hers. “Daryl, Enough!” Carol snapped at him. 

He roared eyes dark “NO ITS NOT ENOUGH, YA COULDA OF DIED Y/N. I WASN'T THERE TO KEEP YA SAFE, YA’D BE DEAD AND I WOULD BE HERE” He choked “Alone...Alone again” Nicole walked forward and put her hand on his shoulder.

You were sobbing now, Rick had wandered over hearing Daryl’s shouts. You darted over to him. Instinctively wrapping your arms around him and burying yourself in his chest. Rick had checked in on you everyday since he rescued you and you found yourself being drawn to him, Not in the same way as Daryl he wasn’t quite the sun in your universe. But he was comforting to spend time around, He listened to you and it was only him and Carol that didn’t look at you like a wounded animal. 

Rick wrapped his arms around you protectively. “Daryl quit your hollerin, What's goin on here”

Daryl watched you seek protection from him and it was just too much, He turned and walked away muttering to himself. “C’mon you two, Come tell me what just happened” Rick said once Daryl had disappeared with Nicole following him.

You all walked back to Rick’s home that he shared with his son Carl and infant Daughter Judith. You happily sunk to the floor hugging Judith. There was something so comforting about being around an innocent that didn’t know of this world and its pain yet. You wished you could protect her from all of it.

Carol sat with Rick and guiltily explained what the two of you had done. You could tell Rick wasn’t happy with it but let it go when he saw that you were both completely unharmed. 

You had tried to talk to Daryl after that and he had pretended you didn’t exist. You were grateful that because of your growing friendship with Rick he had let you stay with him and the kids. 

You found yourself spending more time watching Daryl wishing he would just look at you but he never did. 

It was on one of these nights watching him that you saw it and he broke you all over again..

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