#and i'm just screeching periodically at each one

[mineonmain]

Thanks to @flootweed for the inspiration, I just had to make it👬🏳️‍🌈💛

[golden1u5t]

is it that obvious? | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: @vyviiennestar

ꨄ genre: fluff

ꨄ summary: you and spencer were closer than normal when showing up at rossi’s dinner party which causes for teasing from derek and a kiss at the end of the night.

emily walked into the living room with a glass of wine in her hand and the first thing she noticed was how you were practically sitting on spencer's thigh, her eyes narrowed as she looked at you both. "are you two..."

"no!" you both screeched at the same time but neither of you made an effort to move away from each other. emily snorted and took a seat on the couch opposite of the one you were sitting on.

was quite obvious that you and spencer had feelings for each other, everyone knew it. you and spencer weren't oblivious to your feelings for each other either, you just choose not to acknowledge them until the other made a move but with the way you and spencer were, there was no telling if or when that would happen.

the room started to fill up with everyone else but you and spencer hardly acknowledged them, you were stuck in your own bubble as you always were when you were together. somehow, between the time emily had walked into the living room and now, you and spencer were sitting closer together with your hands nearly interlocked.

neither of you were big on social gatherings or being out for long periods of time so you were perfect for each other. sometimes you would honestly forget you were around other people when you were in his presence, it's been like that since the first day you'd met him.

"pretty boy!" derek laughed, you moved your hand away from his and moved over a bit to put a little space between you. spencer glanced over at you when he felt your warmth leave his side, he took the drink derek was holding out for him. "i see you and pretty girl are finally together, took you long enough. i thought i was going to have to slip love notes into your desk."

you and spencer flushed hot, you didn't even try to deny it this time, you both watched him walk away but turning to each other and shaking your heads.

"i think i'm ready to get home now, what about you?" you put your feet back on the floor and started to slide your shoes on, spencer only hummed in response. by the time you finished putting your shoes on, spencer was already heading to the door. you waved to everyone and caught up with him.

+++

"you didn't have to walk me all the way up here, you know." you chuckled, you put your key in your pockets and turned to look at him. spencer shrugged his shoulder and looked down the halls, his cheeks coated pink. "what you thinking about?"

"I was- would you hate me if-"

"i could never hate you."

spencer turned back to you and smiled, "i guess i should rephrase that then, huh? i guess I'm trying to ask if it would be weird if i said i really want to kiss you now."

you could hardly process what he said, you couldn't do anything other than stare at him. spencer took your silence as a bad sign because he doesn't do this, he doesn't walk girls to their door and ask to kiss them, he took a step back but you caught his wrist and pulled him back.

"kiss me- im okay with that." spencer let out a shaky breath and step closer, he cupped your face and hesitantly pressed your lips together. it was a quick kiss, spencer was too nervous to do anything more.

"goodnight, pretty girl." he mumbled as he pulled away, he stepped back and nearly ran down the hallway. you stood there for a minute trying to gather yourself before you turned around and went into your apartment.

[sinkovia]

Consequences: Alternative Ending

-Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Mention of blood.

Consequences

As Simon drove to the bar, guilt weighed heavily on him, pressing down on his chest like a leaden weight. What was he doing? Not only had he put his hands on you, but he had also broken the promise you both made to each other.

What was he thinking, treating you like that? Speaking to you in such a hurtful manner when everything had been entirely his fault?

With each passing moment, the gravity of his actions sank deeper into his conscience, gnawing at him with relentless intensity. He couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of remorse and self-loathing that consumed him.

As he drove, his mind raced with thoughts of you, the pain he had caused, and the irreparable damage he had wrought upon your relationship. The realization of his own behavior filled him with a profound sense of shame and regret.

Unable to bear the weight of his guilt any longer, Simon made a U-turn, the screech of tires against asphalt echoing in the quiet night, and began driving back to the house.

Every mile brought him closer to you, to the chance of making things right, of seeking forgiveness for his unforgivable actions. He couldn't believe what had gotten into him, how he could have hurt the one person he loved and cared about most in his life.

He would make amends, he would get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, and he would do whatever it took to repair the damage he had caused.

Just as he began retracing his steps back home, his phone began to ring, and he saw your caller ID flashing on the screen. He answered, putting you on speaker as he focused on the road ahead.

"Sweetheart, I'm so-" His words faltered as he heard your cry of pain echoing through the phone. His heart seized in his chest as he listened to your strained voice.

"Simon, something's wrong with the baby, it hurts, it hurts so much, I don't know what to do." Every word pierced through him like a dagger.

His heart plummeted as he listened to your cries, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. “I’m coming, sweetheart. Just hold on. I’m two minutes away, baby.” Simon reassured you, his voice laced with urgency and fear.

Your cries of pain tore at his soul, and tears blurred his vision as he raced home.

Simon wasn’t a religious man, but in that moment, he found himself praying fervently to any higher power that would listen. He prayed for your safety, for the well-being of your unborn child. He knew that this was his punishment, his reckoning for the harm he had caused.

"Simon I cant-"

A sudden thud on the other end of the phone made his stomach plummet. His heart pounded against his chest as panic seized him, his hands trembling and slick with sweat.

"Y/n, baby, what was that? Are you okay?" Simon's voice cracked with worry, but he was met only with silence. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he sprinted to the front door as soon as he pulled into the driveway.

With a forceful push, he burst through the door, his eyes scanning the rooms in a desperate search for you. "Y/n, where are you?" he called out frantically, his heart hammering in his chest.

Racing to the bathroom, his worst fears were confirmed as he found you unconscious on the floor, blood pooling beneath you. "Fuck, no, no, no," he muttered under his breath, his hands shaking as he scooped you up into his arms.

"Y/n, baby, I need you to open your eyes for me," he pleaded as he carried you to the car, buckling you into the passenger seat. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other periodically checking your pulse, Simon sped towards the hospital with a single-minded determination.

Simon burst into the ER with you cradled in his arms. The nurses sprang into action, swiftly transferring you onto a stretcher and wheeling you away to the surgery room.

The sight of you, unconscious sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He paced the waiting room, unable to sit still as his hands shook with fear and anxiety.

Sinking into a chair, Simon buried his face in his hands, consumed by guilt. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had caused your suffering, that his actions caused you stress and had put you and the baby in danger.

With each passing second, Simon's mind raced with a litany of regrets and what-ifs. If you didn't make it through this, he knew he would never forgive himself. The thought of losing you, the love of his life, because of his own actions was unbearable. All he could do now was wait, gripped by the crushing weight of uncertainty.

When the nurse finally called his name, Simon practically bolted from his seat, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Is she okay? Is the baby okay?” Simon's voice was filled with anxiety as he pleaded for reassurance.

The nurse motioned for him to follow her, and Simon eagerly complied, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Your wife and baby are okay, but there are some complications with the pregnancy,” she began, her tone grave. Simon's breath caught in his throat, fear gripping him like a vise. He willed the nurse to walk faster, desperate for answers.

“The placenta began to detach from the uterine wall, pressing against the cervix, resulting in bleeding. While the placenta has stabilized for now, if it continues to dislodge, there's a risk of miscarriage. However, if she reaches the thirty-two-week mark, premature delivery is an option, with the hope that the baby can complete development in the NICU.”

Simon listened intently, absorbing every word with a sinking feeling in his chest. “Is there anything we can do to prevent her placenta from pushing further down?” his voice laced with desperation.

The nurse shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately not. What will help is bed rest—no walking or any physical movement that would cause her uterus to push the placenta further down.”

“So she’ll stay here until the baby is delivered?”

“Yes,” the nurse confirmed as she opened the door to your room. As Simon rushed to your side, his eyes filled with tears, you turned your head to meet his gaze. With a weak smile, you reached out to touch his cheek as he gently cupped your face.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I’m so so sorry, this is all my fault,” Simon whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

You shook your head gently, “It’s okay, what matters is that you answered. I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t.”

Simon's head dropped against your hand, “I should have never said those things to you, I should have never put my hands on you like that, I should have never broken our promise. I don’t know what I was thinking love, I'm so sorry.”

You gazed into his eyes, seeing the remorse and regret etched in his expression. Despite the pain and uncertainty swirling around you, you found it in your heart to forgive him.

“I forgive you, Simon. We'll get through this together, okay?”

He nodded, his grip tightening on your hand as he leaned in to kiss you gently on the forehead. "I love you so much,"

Simon's hand gently cupped your cheek again, his thumb moving back and forth. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured, his gaze shifting to your stomach. “How do you feel?”

“I feel a bit uncomfortable, but I'm okay,” you replied, gently moving your hand over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Simon exhaled deeply, nodding in relief. “I'm glad.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and both of you turned your attention to the doctor walking in, followed by a nurse wheeling in a machine.

“I was told you didn't know the gender of your baby,” You nodded in confirmation, exchanging a glance with Simon as your anticipation grew.

“This here is an ultrasound machine. You both can listen to your baby’s heartbeat, and we can find out if it’s a boy or girl,” the doctor explained. Simon's grip on your hand tightened, and you offered him a reassuring smile, though your thoughts lingered on the safety of your baby.

“This won’t hurt them or make the placenta move?” you asked with concern. The doctor shook her head. “No, everything is safe for you and the baby,” she reassured.

Simon leaned closer to you, anticipation and nerves intertwining as the doctor prepared the ultrasound machine. The room seemed to hold its breath as the gel was applied to your bump, and the doctor began to maneuver the wand.

Then, there it was—a steady, rhythmic thumping sound filling the room. Your baby's heartbeat, strong and clear, echoed through the space. Tears started spilling from your eyes, and Simon let out a choked sob as your grip on each other's hand tightened, your eyes still glued to the screen.

Simon's voice caught in his throat as he struggled to contain his emotions, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. In that moment, as you listened to the steady beat of your baby's heart, you felt an unbreakable bond between the three of you, a love so deep and pure that it brought tears of joy to your eyes.

The doctor continued to shift the camera around until she got a better angle and took a few pictures. She gasped and smiled, “Are you ready?” You quickly nodded your head, gripping onto Simon's hand harder.

“You guys are having a baby girl!” the doctor announced. You sobbed out and smiled, turning to Simon, whose tears prickled off his eyelashes, the joy in his heart insurmountable. He cupped your face and kissed you.

“Congratulations! I’ll give you both some time to yourselves,” the doctor said before leaving the room.

"We're having a little girl, sweetheart," Simon couldn't contain his excitement, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he showered you with kisses.

"We can finally pick a name!" Your eyes sparkled with joy as you looked up at him. He gently took your hand and planted soft kisses on your knuckles, each one filled with love.

"Did you have any names in mind, love?" Simon asked, his eyes filled with anticipation as he awaited your response. Your smile softened as you gazed up at him, a glint of excitement in your eyes.

"Yeah, I was thinking about Marie…" you began, the name of Simon's late mother rolling off your tongue with a sense of reverence and love.

Simon's smile widened, his eyes glistening. "Marie Riley, that's a beautiful name, love," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.

You smiled back at him, your heart swelling with affection. "I know," you replied, gently cupping his cheek, feeling a sense of warmth and connection in choosing a name that honored his family.

The next two and a half months passed by in a blur, the days blending into one another as you remained confined to the hospital bed. Simon never left your side, his presence a constant source of comfort and support.

Every morning, he would slip out to your favorite breakfast place, returning with a tray of steaming hot food just in time for your waking moment. His care and attention were evident in every detail, from the way he fluffed your pillows to the gentle way he brushed your hair away from your face.

During lunchtime, he would disappear briefly, only to return with a homemade meal that he had lovingly prepared himself. The aroma of his cooking would fill the room, warming your heart as much as your stomach.

In the evenings, he would set up your new laptop, eager to continue your tradition of watching your favorite show together. He would sit beside you, holding your hand as you laughed.

And every week, like clockwork, he would arrive with a fresh bouquet of flowers, the vibrant colors brightening up the sterile hospital room. His apologies were a constant refrain, a reminder of the regret he felt for his actions on that fateful day.

Despite the passage of time, his remorse never wavered, his determination to make things right driving him to do everything in his power to ensure your comfort and happiness. Each day was a testament to his love for you, a promise to never let you down again.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Simon whispered, his voice thick with emotion. You reached up and cupped his cheek, offering him a reassuring smile. “Simon, it's okay, really it is. We’re okay, I’m safe, Marie is safe, you’re safe. That’s all that matters now.” Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his softly.

“I love you, Simon, always,” you murmured as you pulled away, looking up at him with affection. Simon's gaze softened, filled with so much love it made your heart swell. “I love you more, Y/n,” he replied tenderly.

You shook your head teasingly. “Impossible, there's no way—”

But your words were cut short as a sharp, searing pain tore through you. You screamed out in sheer agony, gripping Simon's arm tightly. “I think the baby is coming,” you managed to gasp between breaths, the pain radiating through your entire body.

Simon's eyes widened in alarm, and he immediately called for a nurse. A group of them rushed in, swiftly wheeling your bed to the delivery room. Simon stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand firmly as you braved through the intense waves of pain.

“I can't… it hurts, it hurts so much,” you cried out, your voice trembling with agony. Simon grabbed a small rag, wiping the sweat from your forehead, his eyes filled with worry.

“They're going to give you a shot for the pain right now, sweetheart. You need to try and sit still, can you do that for me, baby?” Simon's voice was gentle yet urgent as tears began to gloss your eyes. Despite the agony, you nodded, bracing yourself for the needle.

The momentary distraction of the shot didn't alleviate the excruciating pain coursing through your body. After a few minutes, you were still in agony, the intensity no less than before.

“It hurts, it hurts so much, I can't take it, I feel like I'm being torn apart,” you sobbed, your voice filled with anguish. Simon cursed under his breath, frustration evident on his face. The epidural had failed, leaving you to endure the pain without relief.

The nurses worked tirelessly to make you as comfortable as possible, while the doctor instructed you to begin pushing. Each push felt like an insurmountable feat as you cried out, clawing into Simon's arm for support.

“You can do this, sweetheart. Just one big push, I know you can do it, love,” Simon encouraged, his voice unwavering despite the tears in his eyes. He gently wiped the sweat from your forehead as you struggled through the pain.

With each push, you felt as though you were reaching your breaking point. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Simon felt utterly helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease your suffering.

“Just a few more pushes, the baby is almost out,” the doctor reassured, urging you to keep going.

Simon squeezed your hand tighter, his voice trembling with emotion. “Just a few more pushes, love. You’re almost there, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his heart breaking with each scream of pain that echoed through the room.

The baby finally emerged, and the doctor immediately began stimulating her chest. “Why isn't she crying? Is she okay? Is my baby okay?” You sobbed, your heart pounding with fear. Simon's eyes were wide with worry as he watched the doctor work, his hand gripping yours tightly.

Then, Marie’s cry pierced the air, filling the room with relief as both you and Simon let out a sigh of relief. Tears streamed down your cheeks as they gently placed Marie on your chest, her tiny body nestled against yours.

You kissed the top of your daughter's forehead, your breaths becoming increasingly labored. “Are you okay, love?” Simon's voice was filled with concern as he glanced at the doctor and then to your heart monitor, which showed your heart rate declining.

“What’s happening? Why is her heart rate dropping so quickly?” Simon was panicking as he looked from the doctor to you. Your head was tilted back against the pillow, your eyes half-lidded as you gazed at Marie.

“She’s losing too much blood,” the doctor explained gravely.

Simon's heart sank as he watched your eyes flutter closed, the heart monitor reading a flatline, the sound echoing in his ears.

“No, no, no, no,” he muttered frantically, his hands shaking as the nurses handed him Marie. The sound of Marie crying seemed distant as he focused solely on the constant, agonizing sound of your flatline.

The nurse grabbed the defibrillator and yelled "clear" before administering a shock to your chest. Simon's gaze never left your face, his tears falling freely as he gently held his daughter, the weight of fear heavy in his heart.

“Clear!” Each shock caused your chest to lift up, but still, the ringing of the flatline on the heart monitor remained unchanged.

Simon's world shattered as he watched the nurses desperately trying to save you. He begged and pleaded with them, his voice choked with fear and desperation, as they worked frantically to revive you.

Despite their efforts, the defibrillator failed to bring you back. Your body unable to withstand the trauma of childbirth.

Simon watched helplessly as the nurse put the pads down and the room fell silent, the only sound being the relentless sound of the flatline, a cruel reminder of the fragile line between life and death.

"What are you doing? Do it again!" Simon's voice reverberated through the room, filled with desperation and anguish.

The nurses and doctor exchanged somber glances, their silence speaking volumes. "I’m sorry-" the doctor began, but Simon cut her off with a choked voice, his emotions raw and unfiltered.

"No, don't fucking apologize. Don't you dare fucking apologize. You bring her back, goddamn it!"

Simon’s breathing was labored, his chest heaving with every sob. Tears streamed down his face, his voice trembling with emotion. "You have to bring her back, please. I'm begging you, please just try again."

Simon was consumed by a profound sense of loss and emptiness. The love of his life, the mother of his child, was gone, leaving behind a void. It was as if a part of him had been torn away, leaving him adrift in a sea of grief with no hope of salvation.

As the reality of your death settled over him like a suffocating blanket, Simon felt as though his own heart had stopped beating. The world around him seemed to fade into a blur of pain and sorrow, each breath a struggle against the weight of his grief.

But amidst the darkness, a small glimmer of light emerged. Marie's cries ceased, and Simon's gaze fell upon her tiny face. Her eyes, wide and curious, mirrored yours in a hauntingly familiar way. It was as if you were looking back at him through her innocent gaze.

Sinking into the nearest chair, Simon cradled Marie close to his chest, his tears mingling with hers as he mourned your loss. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words a futile attempt to convey the depth of his remorse.

An apology meant for you, for all the things left unsaid and undone, for the pain he had caused, for everything he had done wrong, a lament for the loss of both you and the life you had dreamed of together.

As he held Marie in his arms, Simon couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him from the inside.

This was the consequence for his actions.

If only he hadn't acted the way he did towards you, if only he had been more understanding and supportive, maybe you wouldn't have faced such complications in your pregnancy. Maybe, just maybe, you would still be alive, smiling beside him as you marveled at your daughter together.

But now, as he cradled your daughter next to your lifeless body, Simon realized the cruel irony of life's give and take. Marie would forever be a bittersweet reminder of the love you had shared, a beacon of hope in the darkness of his grief.

Every time he looked at her, he would see traces of you in her eyes, hear echoes of your laughter in hers. And though the pain of your absence would never truly fade, Simon knew that he would do everything in his power to honor your memory and protect the precious gift you had left behind.

Tag list: @shinchanboi

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : <2k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

Read part six here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii

My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

[m1ntch1p29]

My hyper fixation of biology and Halovians combined and this came out of it. Enjoy??? I might add to this???

GENDER DIFFERENCES -Men have bigger halos and smaller wings then women -Women have three pairs of wings(behind their ears, another on their shoulders, and the final at their waist) -Men have just two pairs(behind ears, waist) -Can fly, but women can fly farther and for longer due to having bigger and/or more wings compared to men

BIRD NOISES(???) -Can make a variety of bird-like chirps, whistles, and birdsong, but mostly grow out of it. -If around family or really stressed they'll make them anyways but it's mainly kids who chirp/warble in public -In families, each Halovian has a string of notes that are a sort of callsign. No two are the same. -Is a bit like another language but it's more rudimentary then other languages, which is why most adult halovians tend to speak instead of using bird calls. -Some halovians can mimic other people's voices, kinda like parrots do -Voices(both bird-like and not) can be super loud. Like, way too loud. A group of fifteen Halovians could probably out-screech a concert.

HALO/GENERAL BIOLOGY STUFF -Have migraines if halo is detached from their head for top long(Robin gets them often) -Halos are just straight up metal so there isn't sensation in them, like bones. However, if a halo gets snapped/broken however it causes extreme pain. -Have hollow bones that are reinforced with cartilage -Have broader shoulders and stronger upper bodies and cores compared to other human-like species     -More pronounced canines that hook in a bit more compared to regular humans, however not as much as Foxian/Vidyadhara. Have a tooth that replaces the molar behind the canine, that is drastically hook-like and points inwards towards the throat. -Like shiny and bright objects, and their homes will practically be covered in little trinkets and cool rocks. -Omnivores, tend to lean more towards fish and other aquatic animals. -Stupidly good swimmers, despite having four-six wings. -They're technically(???)mammals but like platypus they lay eggs(I'm not weird this is legit just the most logical solution to the God damn halos existing) -Females have flatter chests than other human-like species -Tend to be taller than other human-like species       -Head wing bones are cartilage, like ears

FEATHERS/WING STUFF -Look super gross as children. Look up baby birds. They looked like that but more human-like. No feathers until 3-4 years of age. -Children have more feathers, and look less scraggly, but they are still developing for the first 10-12 years of their life and cannot fly. -Teenagers start growing adult feathers, and can begin practicing to fly. They won't be able to until they reach 17-18 years of age. -Adults have fully feathered wings, and have yearly molts where their feathers shed and they grow new ones over a month period. Children have molts every five years, and teenagers every two years. -Preening sessions are needed to be able to fly, and are typically done in groups with family or people halovians hold close. A bit like braiding hair but more emotionally intimate -Feathers and wing shape vary between different species of Halovian, however they all tend to be on the longer side, with longer wings to help glide and catch air currents on the ocean. -Head-wings are typically the same colour as hair before fading into the colour of the back wings. Head wings and back wings are usually different colours. -Hair has a soft, feather-like texture to it, and there is a layer of down and small feathers on the scalp under the hair, especially near the ears. -Feathers are soft and waterproof for diving.

MISC: -Originated from a planet that has very high cliffs and a lot of ocean, thus Halovians evolved to water hunting and flying.                                 -Use their halos like fishing lures: tossing them into the water, gliding above waiting for fish to be like 'Oh hey shiny' and then diving into the water head-first to grab fish.                                  -Back in the 'ye olden days' of Halovian society men used to use the size and shine of their halos to impress people they wanted to court.  -When scared/embarrassed halovians use their wings to hide their faces and neck from view. Wings flare when stressed, frustrated or angry.                        -Giving somebody a back wing feather is saying 'I want to court you'  -Giving somebody a head wing feather is saying 'I see you as family'    -Halo jewelry is a thing. Depending on the halo it’s either dangling little charms or something winding around it. If there's any others you thought of let me know :D I'll either be doing foxians or vidyas next :)

Edit: fixed the formatting because it got weird for some reason????

Edit 2: still weird wtf, idk what's going on with it

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Okay, well replaying Skyward Sword reminded me that I wrote this like a year ago buried in a reblog so I'm just gonna air it out and plop it here.

The first time Link had disappeared, it had caused alarm. Zelda had just gone missing, ripped from her loftwing by a treacherous tornado, and suddenly Link was a haggard mess, dressed in a knight’s uniform, and then gone. People feared that he had been hurt too, a search shouldn’t last after sunset; he wasn’t a full knight, after all. However, Headmaster Gaepora had managed to calm the academy students, and the news spread throughout Skyloft.

It took almost a week for Link to return to Skyloft. When people saw his crimson loftwing circling around the town, a collective sigh of relief fell over the sky island. If he’d been gone consistently for so long, then he’d only return when he’d found Zelda, after all. Not to mention it meant they were both safe.

However, that had not been the case. Link had been alone, tired, and filthy. His clothes had tears in them in certain places, he had strange silky threads wrapped around parts of his legs, dry blood stains were disturbingly evident on his tunic, and he practically had bags under the already constantly present bags under his eyes. He had landed just by the goddess statue and had not been seen since. However, another bright light had appeared in the cloud barrier, unnerving the Skyloftians, who chattered about it amongst each other.

The bazaar had been exceptionally busy that day, and the new red light in the sky caused people to gather there to discuss the matter. It meant there were long lines just to get inside, and Link had not seemed keen to stand among the crowds to get the supplies he so desperately needed. Instead, he’d sat on the bench outside, waiting for the townspeople to eventually spread throughout the island once more and give him the space he needed to prepare for his next trip.

The crowds did indeed start to thin, but as people trickled out of the bazaar with hot drinks and hot gossip on their tongues, they paused, finding the boy passed out on the bench. At first it was amusing; Link often fell asleep all over town. But then it was worrisome. He looked haggard. Everyone in town was invested in this boy’s well-being; they’d all welcomed him into their homes at one point or another, the adults all remembered the little orphan wandering the island aimlessly in the days after his father’s unfortunate death, they all remembered bringing him into their homes with promises of warm food and a pillow to lay his head on.

So it had been collectively decided that someone would fetch a pillow from their home and get Link a bit more settled. Wryna brought a blanket as well, but Greba had pointed out worriedly that Link was still a mess (with an emphatic “He stinks!” from Kukiel). Mallara had gotten Commander Eagus, who had promptly swaddled Link in the blanket and carried him to the academy to tend to him.

After that encounter, everyone on Skyloft had decided that they’d keep an extra careful eye out for the boy.

This new pact ended up saving the young knight-in-training’s life. The next time he came back, he had fallen off his loftwing entirely, caught only by Pipit, who had been notified that something was wrong when Orielle noticed the loftwing’s panicked screeches. He’d been unconscious before he fell into his classmate’s strong arms, and even Groose and his stooges had watched in concern as Pipit had rushed Link to the infirmary.

But today was not quite so dire. Link had been missing from Skyloft for two weeks after he’d recovered (his periods of absence continued to grow, much to everyone’s concern), but this morning Jakamar, his wife Wryna, and their daughter Kukiel woke up to a surprise green bundle curled up in their bed. He was on the edge, barely taking any space, but he hogged a majority of that side of the bed’s blanket. At first Jakamar nearly jumped out of his skin until he realized who it had to be, and he pulled the blanket back just enough to see the curved little ears and fluffy dirty blonde hair that everyone on Skyloft knew so well.

Blowing out a sigh, he turned away and held his wife as she peered over his shoulder. “Well, at least we know where he is.”

“He’ll be hungry,” Wryna commented. “I’ll get started on breakfast.”

Jakamar grunted in acknowledgement as his wife crawled to the bottom of the bed to climb over the wooden frame so as to avoid waking Link. Kukiel shot up and started to bounce on the bed in excitement, and Jakamar scooped her into his arms and also climbed out of bed in a similar manner. The house was silent as the family cleaned their faces and prepped for the day (though only because the parents constantly had to remind Kukiel to keep quiet with gentle shushes and fingers over their lips), and then Jakamar took his daughter out for a morning stroll while Wryna busied herself in the kitchen area.

When he got back to the smell of a delicious breakfast, he stretched and smiled, glancing at the bed to find it empty. He looked back to see Wryna’s disappointed face.

“He’s gone!” Kukiel exclaimed in her high voice.

“I didn’t see him step out,” Wryna said guiltily.

Jakamar put a hand on his wife and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it, hon. At least he got some sleep. Pack it up in a bottle, if we see him we’ll give it to him.”

Jakamar had the luck to find Link later that day as the boy was meandering around the windmills. Although Jakamar was getting ready to offer the now lukewarm food, Link instead started asking him about the windmill’s missing propeller. Jakamar helped him as best he could, and just as Link rushed off to find Gondo at Jakamar’s suggestion (he figured the robot, though broken, might be able to help), the man called out to him, waving the large bottle with food carefully packed inside.

Link stared at him, confused. Jakamar held out the bottle. “Take it, kid. You look like you’re starving.”

It was a bit of a slip up to admit it to his face. Link often would recoil at such remarks, would cover it up with an embarrassed laugh and then actively avoid whoever said it for a while, which then made it even harder to help him. But it was the truth - he did look gaunt and worn thin. Jakamar was usually a pretty easygoing guy, but this seemed like it was starting to get serious. He wished the headmaster would reel the kid in.

Link’s expression shifted, so easily readable on his face, and his confusion clearly became shame. He looked down at the ground, biting his lip. When Jakamar pushed the bottle into his sight again, he took it wordlessly, but as he locked eyes with the man he gave a grateful smile. Before Jakamar could get a word in, Link turned on his heel and headed for the bazaar.

Jakamar blew out a sigh as he watched the boy run. Hylia look out for him.

[witch-oftheflowers]

Lost Souls

AN: hello enjoy this full story for the monster AU! I love @/bluegiragi au and all this steams back to their universe. I justed wanted to put a twist on it in my way heheh enjoy!

The sun shines down through the heavy clouds. Bright white eyes linger up as the pale woman stared in awe.

She rarely saw the morning sun rise. Not like she used to. When she was alive.

Well... Technically alive?

She tilted her head as she waved her transparent hands through. Sun beam shore through her

Soft mumbles of 'awe' or 'oo' left her lips.

But she was so distracted. She didn't noticed the crunch of leaves behind her. Nor the many crunches of several people approaching her.

Last minute she whipped her head around 360. Her hand still rose. Her hair whispy and floating behind her as she stared

Four men. All monsters. Slowly creeping towards her.

Her white eyes flicker back to her normal brown eyes. She stopped her floating, being transparent. Having a soft glow to her now. Her pale tan skin shined as she seemed 'normal'

Landing on her feet, her long skirt flowing under her as she started to approach towards them.

"Who goes there?"

Her curly hair covered her figure. Hiding parts of her face. She seemed so lost. Her clothes were tatter, faded of color, blood stains litter her attire. It seemed period attire even.

"Just a lad looking for a lass." A deep voice echoed. The scent of cigar? Her eyes adjusted as the fog grew back in.

She stopped as she held her skirt firm in her hands. Getting ready to blow as she noticed the wings.

A dragon?

Then she noticed the others...

A Harpy?

Werewolf?

And...

Her eyes landed to the skull masked man. Feeling her soul tug towards him. She flinched back as she sighs a bit.

"I... I'm no lass?" She said, her voice cracked in broken English. She heard the deep laugh from the dragon. Her eyes widen as she scoffed

"You're a woman yes?"

"Sí."

"You're a lass..." He chuckled as he stopped before her. His cigar illuminated his face as he crossed his large arms. Noticing one wing on him even.

"What do you... Want?" She hesitated as she glared to the others.

Each man keeping a distance. Seeming ready to assist their leader it appeared.

The woman stalked forward as they got a better view of her.

She looked so young...

"I heard a myth of these woods..."

Myth?...

Her eyes soften as she knew what he meant. It was about her...

"A banshee...a crying woman. One that hasn't been able to rest..." The dragon stopped as he guaged her reaction.

She seemed so sad. Her eyes glancing down as she let him continue the myth.

"How long you've been here?"

"...as long I known..." Her voice was somber as she sighs. Her chest heaved as she didn't wanna continue this conversation. Getting herself ready to scream for them to leave.

But the whoosh of black mass covered her mouth before she could try. Her eyes flutter to the skull masked man as she glared. Her eyebrows knit as he returned the same glare.

"Dear.. give me a chance to explain why I'm here." The dragon spoke up as he realized her reluctance towards them.

"My name is John Price..." He said as he inched closer. His one wing flutter as he noticed the fear in her eyes

"Simon! Let her go." Price stated as he shot the large man a stare.

"Sir that wouldn't be wise" He stated back as he met his leaders stare.

"She's scared, it makes sense."

"Sir we need to be careful. The lass could attack-" the Harpy spoke up as he met her gaze

Ximena was getting overwhelmed as they bickered with themselves. Her hair floated up as she started to panic, eyes flickering white as she let out a high pitch screech.

Breaking through Simon's black mass as her vocal range kicked them back. The sound wave broke through the silence as the monsters were flung back.

Well the werewolf and Harpy were. The skull man and Price stood strong. Clinging to their surroundings as they tried to fight back the blast wave.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Her voice roared as she finished off the wave. Her hair a mess as it coated her face. Her breathing was labored as she felt a bit faint. Trying to stand strong as she watched Simon and Price getting back to their feet.

"Come on Lass... Hear us out." Price spoke up as he watched her sway. Her eyes flickering white to brown as she was enraged.

"No! I wanna...be alone." She spoke out as she tried to step back. But as she tried, her body succumbed as she went limp. Hair falling in spills around her as she fell

Price rushed over as he caught the woman. His cigar fell in the process as he cursed under his breath.

"Well we got the package.... Let's hope she'll adjust to whatever comes her way." He voiced as Ghost came behind him. His eyes glaring as he sighs

"What's so special about her anyways?"

"She killed multiple soldiers a month again half a team wiped out. Multiple generals wanted her capture... To test on her or convince her to join."

"What the fuck is wrong with them..."

"You know as much as I do. Everything."

Soap and Gaz huffed as they finally returned. Their eyes sore as they were tossed into the cold river behind the forest. A good few miles away.

"Sir can we leave now?" Gaz asked as his feathers flicker from water.

Soap whined as he shook off his fur. A bit panting as he stared to the woman.

"Wee thing tuckered out... Good for us right?"

"For how long...?"

"Let's hope a while." Ghost spoke up as he scooped the woman into his arm. Tossing her over his shoulder.

Ximena whined as she eased up finally. Her hair covering her face, her dainty hands clung to his shoulders.

Ghost froze as he didn't wanna give away the interaction as they started to trudge back through the misty forest. Well the mist vanished once she was knocked out.

The lads a bit impressed she was able to control so much at once.

She ended up being out for three days. And when she came to. Locked in a glass cell. Her eyes looking around as she missed something. A warmth.

"Hello...?" She called out as she pressed her hands against the glass. Not being able to look out.

But everyone could see in. The fear on her eyes. The way her hair was freaking out, smashing against the glass wanting to let her out.

And eventually. Just mist filled the cell. Blocking out their view in.

Who knew what else was in store for their team with this new element to their team.

[musei-thoughts]

𝘔𝘳. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘐𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘊𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1492𝘸.

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰 :)

"What's your plan now, Mr. Eveland?" Ike glares at your figure hidden in the shadows. He was tied up to a chair inside a dark cellar.

You didn't even know how things turned out this way. You were just enjoying your evening cuddled up into your comforters while reading angsty fanfics on your phone, next thing you knew, your men informed you of a trespasser in your hideout.

When you saw the greyish blue or pink, or green, or- you know what, whatever his hair color is, when you saw him, you were rather….intrigued.

He was a pretty boi.

Ike kept his mouth shut as he tries to break free from the restraints. He's been trying to rub the ropes together in hopes of wearing it down but it was no use. Your amused chuckle interrupts him, "Oh, those ropes are pretty thick, it'll take you days to pry them off you." You stepped out of the dark, your red stilettos clacking against the cobble floor.

Ike avoided you gaze when he got to look at you. You were….dazzling. Entering the cellar with such an ominous aura and your high and mighty personality gave him the willies.

"This is what you get for trespassing into my lair, Mr. Eveland. You get tied up, get tortured, or worse…be killed." You taunt with an evil glint in your eyes.

He just looked up at you with a troubled face. Heh, you have him wrapped around your finger, all helpless and vulnerable. 'Oh you're so cool and evil, Y/n. With your awesomeness you'll definitely get Nicolas Cage's attention.'

"Oh no, I'm so afraid, whatever will I do." His sarcastic remark cuts you off your little narcissistic monologue. "Well, why don't we start with that "or worse…" that you mentioned. Let's see how bad will you really torture me."

'Cute but sassy? My, my, what an interesting boy we have here…' You thought with an irk mark on your forehead as you smiled at Ike, "Oh, I will….

with this period simulator." Ike's mood for sarcasm immediately disappeared when you brought the device out.

"Wait- oh god, please no! Not that thing!" He screeches, wriggling in his chair. No one, I mean no one looks down at Y/n.

The smirk on your face widens as you placed the patches on his abdomen, watching him struggle before you. "No can do Mr. Eveland, you DID dare me after all."

"I didn't expect you to actually go through with it!"

'Bullsh*t' you turned it on at level 3. "Ahhhhhnnn…"

"So you were looking down on me?" Your fingers played around the controls while Ike quivers on the chair. "Hngggghh…Y-you're insane!"

A fake gasp leaves your lips as you walked up to Ike, "I'M insane?! Who was the one who snuck in a criminal boss lady's hideout?? Pshhh, You're one to talk, Mr. Eveland." You roll your eyes at him.

"I don't have time for this- Gahhhhnnnn~" Ike leans over at the weird sensation being zapped through his body. You stared at him blankly, observing the poor novelist.

'How could he look like this in this situation?'

His flushed cheeks, his long eyelashes adorning his pretty lime eyes, and his disheveled look as he pants in pain. "….hot damn."

His cheeks redden as you admired him, this is so embarrassing; but then another shock was sent and he grunts in pain. "J-Just tell me where Vox is!!!" He yells.

The pain in his abdomen stopped when you turned the device off with a look of disbelief and confusion on your face.

You were like that "…what??" meme when you heard what he said.

"Just…give me Vox…and we'll leave…" He says through each pant.

He was met with silence as he looks up at your unamused face. You sigh, massaging your temples, "Mr. Eveland, If you're going to sneak in to an evil lair make sure you go to the right one."

His face goes pale at your words, "You're not…L/n?"

"I am, but there's two L/ns in the criminal world. I think you're looking for my brother. He's the one who has your monke friend." You showed Ike a cctv footage of Vox tied up in a room, listening to Barney's song.

You checked your wristwatch, "He's been there for five hours. It's impressive that he's not rocking back and forth or convulsing in insanity like the other hostages."

"WE NEED TO GET HIM NOW."

Ike knows Vox, he may not show physicals signs of insanity yet, but boy, when he gets out of there, he'd surely strip himself naked and skip around the park whilst flashing at anything that turns oxygen into carbon dioxide; a.k.a anything that breathes.

Ike looks at you in desperation. To you, you call it: puppy eyes. "What? You want me to help?" He nods cutely. Internally, Ike is cringing, but he needs to take drastic measures to get you on board.

"Fine." Mission accomplished. "I'm doing this just to get B/n back for selling my high school diary at an auction."

That diary was not meant to be read by anything that has a mind that can judge. You're brother majority doesn't use his brain so he has no use for it aside from pranking you by selling it to an auction.

Surprisingly, it sold for ¥69,000. That's like ¥69,000 worth of embarrassing secrets and confessions.

You just have to get him back for this…

"Go grab that cage over there and that sack. There's also some gear in that closet. Prepare yourself Mr. Eveland, we're gonna get your monke friend back."

Prank #1. You sneaked into your brother's bathroom while Ike watch you execute your plan. "Get the bottle in the sack." He hands it to you and you grabbed the shampoo bottle and replaced its contents with the one from your bottle.

"What's that?"

"Hair remover."

Prank #2 You and Ike carried the big cage into your brother's room. Ike felt the strong movement from inside the cage and asks, "Are we seriously going to release the creature inside this into your brother's room?"

"Yes. Don't worry, it's not venomous."

Prank #3 This one is pretty tame (at least to you). Ike watches in horror as you mercilessly pour a whole bottle of powdered laxatives into your brother's coffee grinds.

"I feel bad for that toilet bowl…"

Prank #4 This one is the worst. You took a photo of the collection room before posting it all on ebæ, "Ike, help me pack all these into the box." You snickered to yourself as you imagined your brother's reaction to seeing all his precious My little pony collection sold to an auction.

"Okay. Let's get monke man back."

Ike walks along side you, observing the silly smile on your face. You're actually not that bad. He thought that you were literally a criminal, but recalling all those 'crimes' that you did, they were not entirely harmful or illegal…well some of them may be...

But you never killed someone more or less did anything that threatened somebody's life.

You were just a prankster who got a so called 'criminal hideout' and some followers who probably sided with you about pranking the government.

Ike remembers the 'evil' smile on your face, it wasn't evil at all, it was cute. "I still think that cows work for the government more than birds-" Ike's chuckle cuts you off your rant, making you stop in your tracks.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No, ma'am." He smiles, stifling his laughter.

"That's what I thought."

You were not evil at all, you're just a cute dork.

Once you got to the room, you kicked the doors open "VSF da!!! BAABBABABABA- eh?"

"I love you, you love me, let's go out and k*ll barney, with a bang, bang, bang, and a slash, slash, slash, no more purple dinosaur."

Vox stared at the purple dinosaur on the TV with killing intent, but continues to sing the wholesome song.

"Vox! Let's get out of here!"

"Give me a second, Michael, let me just finish my song- Hey!" Ike pulls him out of the room and immediately runs out of the house when you heard you brother's shriek.

"OMG GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!!"

Ike pushed Vox in the car and quickly gets into the driver's seat and quickly drives off. You and Ike shared a look and both bursts out laughing, "He sounded like a valley girl on helium!!"

The three of you enjoyed the car ride back home, enjoying a good laugh and some tunes. Once you arrived at your hideout, he walks you out of his car, "Well, Mr. Eveland, I'll see you around." You saluted at him.

"Why do you always call me Mr. Eveland? Call me Ike."

"I just like the sound of your last name, it's unique."

"Oh…

If you love it that much, then I guess you won't mind being called Mrs. Eveland."

Bonus:

Ike was driving Vox home, a little worried about his companion who was silent the whole ride. Though he didn't question it.

Even if he should've.

Vox just sat there with a smile on his face. Singing a certain song in his mind...

"I love you, you love me, let's go out and k*ll barney, with a bang, bang, bang, and a slash, slash, slash, no more purple dinosaur."

← 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 │ 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 →

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 12d

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

The next day Glorfindel has Alphlîn and Alphsîr practicing launching attacks from the air at a (slowly) moving target, specifically a bundle of a grass tied to a (very) long rope tied to the back of the rearmost wagon. They have to replace the target after each successful hit.

After a few hours when they've gotten pretty good at it, Glorfindel tasks them with working on precision — hit the target, and not him and Asfaloth, who will be riding along. He starts out a couple wagon-lengths away, but wants to see how close he can get to the target before he has to start dodging or blocking.

Celeborn has pulled himself together enough to sit in the rearmost wagon and try to provide moral support/encouraging commentary.

Up at the front of the caravan, Maglor falls in beside Whiterot's wagon.

"I've been thinking about what I should say," Whiterot says. "It's hard, because I was in Angband for years before my first death. And that was— I'm sure there are many former thralls who would say being an orc is worse. Being an orc is wretched. But for me, being an elf in Angband was worse."

…Huh. "Do you… want to talk about that, then?"

"Absolutely not."

They ride in silence for a time.

(Or not talking to each other, at least. Elvish hearing being what it is, Maglor can clearly hear Zuste and Dyn in the next wagon worrying about whether the magic crates would protect the Wizard's Clay if the swan-twins miss really badly. Also Elladan having a one-sided conversation with some of the relief oxen who are trying to wander astray, and Risyind explaining something about causeways, and even Turgon offering Glorfindel unsolicited and unneeded dodging advice.)

Whiterot finally asks, "Did Bellow and Screech talk to you about multiplication duties?"

"Turgon did some," Maglor says carefully. "Sharlinnu talked about — childhood, for lack of a better word, but not… how that came about."

"The obvious subject, then, I suppose."

(An incomplete description of 'the obvious subject':

No one likes multiplication duties. It makes you aware of your body and it makes you vulnerable and you have to take your clothes off and the itch is annoying and no one likes it at all.

But it's harder on the ones who have to do the bearing.

It would kill an elf, to bear nine children in five years. Even in Angband with the Dark Lord's will keeping slaves from death, there just wouldn't be anything left. Orcs aren't precisely bearing children, it doesn't drain their already-battered fëar or break their hearts, but it is still physically grueling. It's painful and exhausting and the amount of food you have to get through every day is absurd.

The suckling period is at least brief, only about a month. But it's deeply uncomfortable, and worse—

Most of the time, your heart is too dead to bond with the thing while it's suckling — but the miserable hröa may still try.

And everyone says it's just five years at most after you mature and by the time you're fifteen your job is killing, and you can forget about it, or convince yourself it wasn't so bad. But if you survive long enough — live past a defeat, live through the Shadow ebbing for a while, live until the Shadow seeps into you again and calls you back — you will be called back to multiply for another few years.

("I am never going to fully understand how Straw and Squint could stand to have Mist and Rain. Both of them had appalling childhoods in their first lives, which I think explains how they could think it was an acceptable situation to bring a child into, but I don't understand how they accepted the — vulnerability of it. No amount of walls in the head could make it seem safe.")

It never ends.)

"Nothing about being an orc ever ends," Whiterot says. "Thralldom didn't end either, for me, but— Being an orc, you have to walk the same terrible road over and over and over again. You're born, you grow, you remember you're a person just in time to fully appreciate it as your body is turned against you. Multiplication duties, and then death, death, torment, death, death, until finally it's your death but you're just right back in the Crucible. Over and over and over."

(Maglor carefully does not ask what she went through in Angband, that the totality of being an orc still is not worse.)

*****

They arrive at the Large Explodable Rock.

—It might also be described as a small steep hill with little plant life, but really, it's a cracked boulder the size of a house. The black stone is incongruous among the grasses and flowers.

Maglor says he doesn't like the look of it.

Gimli says regardless of how it looks he's puzzled how it got here. He's never personally done any excavating in the Grey Mountains but he doesn't think the stone there looks like this, and anyway they're leagues away now! There aren't any similar landforms in sight…

They check the rock over. Glorfindel, Celeborn, and Elladan and Elrohir agree that while it does feel vaguely sinister somehow? it isn't actually dangerous. It's just been sitting here in the middle of nowhere for ages, being a rock.

Maglor grudgingly ventures close enough to poke at it. "Does anyone else think this looks like—" He stops. "Celegorm, does this look like a piece of Thangorodrim to you?"

Turgon rolls his eyes dramatically but doesn't dispute that Maglor and Celegorm saw considerably more of Thangorodrim than people who spent most of the Siege in Gondolin. (Let alone Celeborn.) Although, actually—

"It doesn't look much like the lower slopes," says Whiterot.

—Those who were orcs in the First Age also got a pretty good look at some parts of it. Whiterot is right. It doesn't look much like the lower slopes.

"No, it looks like the cliffs higher up," Celegorm says. "But you're proposing, what, a piece of Thangorodrim just… suddenly appeared here? Fell out of the sky?"

Well, yes.

Very few orcs survived being in the open in the vicinity of the end of the War of Wrath long enough to get a clear idea of what was going on. So, quick catch-up.

Between Ancalagon falling on Thangorodrim and various high-power assaults from both sides, the mountains were breaking apart and shifting around.

Some of the pieces looked like they might be about to shift down onto the attacking Elves, Men, and Dwarves.

Eönwë and the other maiar present helpfully prevented this; some balrogs or other umaiar tried to encourage it. After some push and pull Eönwë evidently decided to remove the hazards from the battlefield by launching them up and away.

And honestly most people on the battlefield promptly forgot about it. There were other things to worry about.

But! They found out later that, at around the same time, at about the latitude of the Grey Mountains but well east of the Sea of Rhûn, a giant ball of fire fell out of the sky and created a gulf where there hadn't been one before. (There may already have a been a depression inland? But there was definitely not water there before.)

Also Pelnûru scholars believe a rain of stone was one contributing factor to Cuiviénen as it once was not existing anymore.

Zuste whistles. "Ooops."

"That's," Screech starts, then stops. "That's—" She turns to Khitwê and Risyind. "Adjuration Abridged, the lines that repeat—"

"That's gods for you," Khitwê and Risyind helpfully chorus.

"Thank you, you'd think it'd let me vaguely insult — things."

"We definitely weren't complaining at the time," Maglor says. "I'm inclined to call Cuiviénen an acceptable loss, even, given the stakes. I don't know what used to be where this Gulf is—"

"Maybe Straw's home village, but that was definitely an acceptable loss," Whiterot says. Turgon snorts.

Anyway, since pieces of Thangorodrim were definitely falling out of the sky even farther away, there's no reason a smaller piece couldn't have ended up here.

With that question answered, it's time for Wizard's Clay practice, with stone this time!

(Celegorm to Maglor, as Gimli is setting up: Do you think if I said Noldor tools are better I could get Celeborn to defend dwarves and make that face again?

Maglor: Don't insult Gimli or his tools with pointless comparisons.

Maglor: …I'm not sure it's true anyway.

Celegorm: Neither am I, and I bet neither is Celeborn, and that's what makes it funny.

Maglor: …It would be funny, but still don't do it.

Celegorm: This is why everyone says you're boring.

Maglor: You are the only one who says that.)

[addie-henderson]

I’m such a slut for clarisse, she’d kick my ass for no reason and I’d thank her😭

her holding down your hips while eating you out, AHHHHH😖

“Shh, sit still.. damn..” She whispers softly, her breath blowing air onto your puffy clit “be a good girl..” she murmurs lowly, holding your hips down onto the bed as she licks at your wet pussy.

not my best work but it'll do

clarisse la rue smut

cw: jealousy

She was a jealous person. That much you'd known even before dating. she was jealous, protective, and mean in nature, often possessive and rough. you knew that. you had to have known that. everyone knew that. campers new and old wonder maybe if you'd lost your mind to be playing such a dangerous game, smiling and chatting with some other girl that wasn't your girlfriend at the campfire. Eyes bounce between the scene and the continuous image of Clarisse glaring daggers from across the fire, her knee bouncing in irritation and her eye almost twitching in a cartoonish manner periodically.

she was pissed and everyone around her could tell. she watches as you look up from your conversation and seem to scan the crowd before pointing to her and waving. she grunts an annoyance to herself but she can't help that her glare softens when her eyes are only on her girl. she stands to her full height with crossed arms and in the glaring light of the fire her muscles look magical. the thought of her holding you seemed printed in your mind as she stomped over. you don't bother to stand when she's finally hovering over you just glance up half through your lashes to look at her. "Hi Clar." you smile and her face flushes but remains its look of annoyance. "let's go." her hands uncross from her chest one hand loops its thumb around the back of her belt buckle and rest there as the other extends to assist you in standing. "but I was-" she raises an eyebrow and you pause taking her hand silently. you open your mouth to say goodbye to the new camper you'd been accompanying but Clarisse started pulling you along. "Clarisse-" nothing else is heard from surrounding campers as you're dragged towards the mostly deserted cabins. the familiar dark red building of the Ares cabin comes into view. by now you're far enough that the fire is nothing but a glowing Dot from the distance and you expect her to pull you inside but instead she tsks and pulls you to the side of the building far into the shadows of the late night. your back hits the worn wood and she grunts, it's a familiar sound "what was that?"

"what was what?" you ask confusion evident in your voice. "don't play dumb with me. what was that? all the smiling and giggling and screwing each other with your eyes."

"I was not screwing her with my eyes."

"that's what it looks like to me." she growls

"then maybe you need glasses." you finally say with a huff pushing at her shoulders to get from the compromising position of your back literally being against a wall. she clicked her teeth in annoyance but doesn't budge, so you shove her again.

"will you stop that?"

"will you stop being paranoid?" you shove again, this time much harder actually making her take a small step to center herself.

"WILL YOU JUST-" her voice begins to raise as she grabs your wrist pinning them roughly to the wood behind you. she's quick to try and find her calm her chest raising and falling with heavy breaths as she tries to control her temper. it's hard for her and you sympathize but still wiggle to get loose.

"let. me. go."

"no. " she says simply

"I mean it, La Rue."

"oh I'm La Rue now?" she raises an eyebrow

"shut up." you huff.

"you're in control huh?"

"shut up." you demand again.

"is that all you can say baby? nothing else? no more denying you were screwing her in your head" she tilts her head in faux curiosity.

"I was not! " you screech

"you were."

"I would never do that I don't want anyone but you Clar. " you slump in defeat with a sigh

"no one?" she asks

"no one."

"good girl." she smiles pressing her lips to yours. she was still clearly fuming not gentle and kind but rough and hastily clashing your mouths together.

"im-" you begin to start talking only to get interrupted with her lips on yours again

"I'm still" and again

"clar stop." you finally whine "I'm trying to be mad at you."

"why the hell would you be mad at me?"

"you just accused me of liking some girl I've known for like 10 hours."

"no, I accused you of eye fucking a girl you've known for like 10 hours." she corrects moving her lips down your neck making you gasp and tangle your fingers into her hair.

"is that what you think of me?"

"let me show you what I think of you." she smiles against your skin and you shiver humming half heartedly the stiffness and frustration melting from your body. Her hand runs in-between your thighs "that sounds nice hm? "

"..sounds nice..." you agree softly.

"and we should take these shorts off?" she asks

"here?" you look at her with wide eyes glancing around the space.

"that a problem?" she smiles, undoing the button of your shorts

"i- uh- nono please touch me." she doesn't hesitate tuggy down your shorts letting them drop down to your ankles as she lifts you up into her arms pulling your legs over her shoulders

"CLARRISE." you shout in shock only to be shushed before she buried her face between your thighs, Gently she pushes your panties to the side and runs the rough callous pad of her thumb across her bare clit. she lowers her head between your aching thighs, tongue curious for just a taste of the familiar taste of your sweet cunt. she began probing and sucking on your clit spinning in expert circles causing you to attempt to grind your hips closer.

"Shh, sit still.. damn.." She whispers softly, her breath blowing air onto your puffy clit "be a good girl.." she murmurs lowly, holding your hips down against the wall as she licks at your wet pussy.

"I can't-" you whimper softly pulling her hair making her groan her mouth falling open.

"yes you can." she lines her thick finger up with your achingly empty dripping cunt and pushes it in.

"clar I can't."

"just let me make you feel good and stay still."

[electricprincess96]

Asking out of curiosity, but why do ya dislike Damian Wayne? I ask this not in a acussitory manner mind, as my only exposure to Damian is in non comics material such as those animated movies he popped up in. More so curiosity cause he seems to be a very controversial character among the main comics fandom itself.

He is controversial. There are a few reasons, some I could change my mind on with better writing and others would take a lot more for me to get behind him. I'll start by saying if you're reading this and are a Damian fan don't continue, you aren't gonna like what I have to say so don't both hate reading for the sake of it.

Firstly the concept of the Bat Family for the most part up until that point was about Found Family. Let me be clear I'm not saying it was sunshine and rainbows and they all got along great all the time BUT it was about broken people finding each other and trying to work together to make a difference. The very concept of giving Bruce a blood son ruins that, you need only look at most Damian fans when the debate on who should be Bruce's successor comes up, they will always say Damian despite the fact he has shown NOTHING to prove he deserves it, their only reason is he's the blood son. While yes being both biological and adopted kids is a thing that exists and most real people can do it and it works most DC writers are not adopted parents and dont know the specifics of how you depict that balance and it shows. It reeks of weird blood purist, anti-adoption vibes that just aren't good. Like the rise in "bad parent Bruce Wayne" towards Jason and Tim and some of the others (not sure he knows Cass's name anymore) conveniently corrolates with demon brats creation. Coupled with the fact on more than one occasion writers have seemed to make it seem like Damian does indeed mean more just cause he's blood related. I just don't like it. I wasn't overly fond of Helena Wayne (although she was better cause she was from another world instead of the canon one) and I don't like Damian for the same reason.

Secondly he was forced as Robin. As I said in a recent post up until Damian the role of Robin had only really been changed when it was necessary. Jason was made Robin because DC wanted Robin to be a kid again but readers liked the storylines they were getting with young adult Dick Grayson so they promoted Dick from sidekick and created Jason Todd. Likewise when Jason died there was no Robin, Dick wasn't about to go back to being Robin and Jason was dead thus Tim was created to fill a role that needed filling. Even Stephanie was made Robin due to Tim being unavailable for a long period of time (i dont remember the specifics but i think it had to do with his family finding out about Robin) so even when she lasted not even a year, she was still filling a vacamcy instead of being forced into a role that was already filled. Damian however was just created. They had not taken the proper steps to develop Tim out of being Robin naturally (and before people come at me with "oh he had plenty of time" Dick Grayson got FORTT YEARS and Damian is coming up on nearing 2 decades so shut up) and thus his creation has directly led to the problem we have right now in DC were we have TWO Robins cause they demoted Tim back to being Robin when Red Robin didn't work out (and 3 batgirls but that ones Barbara Gordon's fault). Coupled with the fact his introduction came right after the revival of Jason Todd thus basically screeching to a halt any real meaningful development that plotline could have had because suddenly DC had a shiny new toy to play with. Damian's creation was a turning point for Batman comics and not a good one, because it contributed to the derailing of multiple characters arcs and plotlines and some have still not fully recovered.

Thirdly his character upon introduction was already redundant. He's a child raised by assassins.... OK well we already have Cassandra Cain. He's a Robin willing to kill and will really test the Bat Fams moral compass. OK well as I said we'd already revived Jason Todd and he was already taking the fight to the Bat on the no kill rule. Literally the only unique thing he had upon introduction was that he was a blood relation to Bruce which I personally do not think should mean anything. But DC starting from that point going forward started to have a horrible undercurrent of blood purity. The only thing I can think that he is semi unique on is being biracial but even then not entirely his since Cassandra is biracial as well AND they never do anything with him being biracial. Plus if they really wanted to they could have reconned one of the existing Robins to be biracial without derailing multiple other characters plotlines.

Fourthly. He's an obnoxious and annoying brat 90% of the time. Like I get it, being raised by Talia (although there's conflicting information on of he was actually raised at all since the timeline does not seem to add up for his age and at one point he was grown in an artificial womb and artificially aged but that's been retconned but the timeline still don't add up if he's not artificially aged somewhat. His back story is a mess I ain't gonna make heads or tails of it) will inevitably result in a very arrogant child afterall Ra's and Talia's egos rival Lex Luthors. BUT they want us to believe at times he can back that up. And I'm sorry I don't care how skilled you are as a child assassin, you are still a child. Like in the Animated movies he should not be able to beat Deathstroke in a straight 1 to 1 fight. He just shouldn't. Both are highly skilled assassins sure but Slade is like 6 times Damian's age, double his size and at least 3 times his weight. There is also the fact that his dark, brooding, arrogant, cruel character sort of worked when he was Dick Grayson's Robin cause it was flipping the established dynamics for Batman and Robin. But when he's Bruce's Robin it doesn't work, we no longer have that little bit of sunshine that Robin is meant to bring to Batman (and don't think I haven't noticed how Batman's character has got crueler and darker since Damian became his Robin) while Batman is meant to be a guiding hand for Robin to keep him on the right track.

Fifthly. For Damian's character arc to really work/make sense ot has to be acknowledged that Talia is not a good mother. At best she's deliberately raising him in a dangerous environment and at worse she is actively abusive. It's the only way you can justify half of his character traits and why he's even here in the first place. Here's the issue for all I dislike Talia as a character... I don't believe she's an abusive mother. One thing that seems to be consistent for Talia was that she did love her family. Talia's flaws for me are in her inability to choose a side and her entitlement towards Bruce and other men (well and the whole worldwide genocide of anyone not League of Assassins). Now I am more willing to accept this one as just being how new Talia is but I don't blame some of her fans who feel miffed about this however they do have to acknowledge that there's no real way to do his story without her either being an incompetent parent or a down right bad one (but don't worry Talia fans Bruce is also awful nowadays so she's not alone there....)

Now his arrogance and overall unlikable character can absolutely be fixed with good writing. I hated him in the Animated movies (kid you grew up in the mountains leaving to kill you SHOULD NOT BE LECTURING BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE ABOUT STOCKS) but I'm quite liking him in Boy Wonder where it's actually tackling his own sense of entitlement and showing that he needs to learn from his predecessors rather than acting like he's better than them purely because he shares dna with Bruce.

BUT the conceptual issues I have won't go away quite so easily. It's why if I'm asked if I could wipe one Robin from existence, it will always be him. He could be written wonderfully, he could get a comic run that is the best written thing ever and I will still always say him when asked that question. And I know I'm not alone on that.

[cosmica-galaxy]

*SMASHES DESK WITH CREDDIT *

your amazing, your fantastic, your absolutely splendid!

I beg of you Hank or Sanford+Deimos with egg. I need egg related shenanigans.

Aww! Thank you! I hope this still applies 6 month later! QvQ -- "Deimos?" "Yeah?" "Where are the eggs." Deimos takes a moment to stop smoking his cigarette to reply as he stays engulfed in the TV. "They're on the pillow." "No. They're not." Deimos then gets confused as he sits up on the lumpy couch and turns to see Sanford standing nearby the pillow where the eggs containing their precious twins used to be. Seeing the pillow completely empty. He sits up rapidly and looks around the room before smiling nervously at Sanford. "I see the problem..." "Oh, DO YA? Deimos, this isn't funny! WHERE ARE THE KIDS?" "Now hold on, I think they are just a little misplaced!" Sanford could only pinch where the bridge of his nose would be if he had one and groans loud and low. His gaze fixates on Deimos again, completely serious. "Well, where did you have them last?! I left for ONE HOUR to get my hook fixed up and you LOSE BOTH OF THEM?!" Deimos then hurries over and covers Sanford's mouth, hushing him harshly. "SSHHH!! The Player will get mad at me!" Sanford then rips off his hands and growls out. "As they should! You didn't last one hour and now the eggs are gone! Now shut up and help me look for them, bozo!" Deimos could only nod in quick affirmation. The two mercenaries then begin to search high and low for the two missing eggs, their worry slowly growing more and more as the places they checked turned up empty. They weren't in the bedroom, they weren't in the bathroom, the hamper, the living room, the kitchen, in any of the other bedrooms, and not anywhere outside or in the trucks. Deimos eventually began to feel Sanford's sharpening gaze on his back as the longer the kids stayed missing, the more and more he felt like he was gonna find a meathook in his backmeat. They both eventually wind up back in the living room, Deimos pacing back and forth with Sanford standing angrily nearby, his arms crossed and his gaze steely. "This doesn't make any sense, Sanford! I swear! They were RIGHT THERE when I dozed off on the couch!" Deimos panics. "Anything could've happened in that time, Deimos! What if some agents or bandits snuck into the base and made off with our eggs?! They could be omelets right now for all we know!!" Sanford chides, his face wrinkling up in anger. "THEY WERE RIGHT FUCKING THERE, SANFORD!" Deimos suddenly yells out. "I WAS WATCHING THEM PERIODICALLY. THEY WERE THERE! I FUCKING KNOW THEY WERE!" Deimos continues to scream, ignoring how Sanford's gaze switches from him to looking over his shoulder. Seeing Doc and the Player walking into the room, holding the missing eggs in question. Each wearing a confused and concerned gaze as Deimos erupts. "And FURTHER MORE, you could've just GONE TO YOUR ROOM AND FIXED YOUR FUCKING HOOK AND NOT GO OUT TO THE SHED AND--" "What is going on here?" Deimos is suddenly cut off with the voice of their Player resounding out from behind him, making him screech in surprise. He blinks dumbly as he spies Doc and the Player holding both of the missing eggs in question. Each present and healthy. "I--what?! Where did you--" "Deimos...Sanford..." The Player abruptly intervenes, giving both men a look. "Did you two forget that it was check up day for the eggs?" Both grunts stay silent, each one looking ashamed or embarrassed. The Player could only sigh as they take the other egg from Doc and place them back on their pillow. "I'm getting you both a reminder calendar and you two are going to start checking it in the morning, do you understand?" "Yes, Player." The two mercenaries say in unison as Doc chuckles at their predicament.

Bonus: Sanford to Deimos when the eggs are missing--

[snow-143]

Water Coloured Tears | Jeon Jungkook

five- mommy’s boy (0.8k words)

'TAEEEEE. YOU BETTER GET YOUR ARSE UP AND READY TO LEAVE IN THE NEXT 5 MINUTES OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL SMOTHER YOU WITH THAT MONSTOSITY OF A TEDDY YOU SPOON EVERY NIGHT.' A muffled groan is all I receive in response.

I grab a slider on my way to his room, and very gracefully dive right onto of his barely conscious form. I find far too much amusement in the screech he lets out, although I'm sure the rest of the building doesn't. 

'Jesus Christ are you trying to kill me? How does someone so small weigh so much?'

His complaints are met with the slider being flung at his head. 'We're gonna be late, sunshine.'

Groggily he rubs his sleep ridden eyes, 'Ughhh, how's it Monday already.' 

Snorting at him I stand up from his bed, 'Just hurry up will you? Wouldn't want you to miss out on the honour of a two hour lecture with my company.' 

'Okay, but doesn't laying in bed with me cuddling you all morning sound soooo much better?'  He's smirking at me now.

'Don't flatter yourself, anyway, both you and me know that you always end up as the little spoon.' 

Huffing he finally stands up, 'You're worse than my mother.' 

'What, does your mother spoon you too?'

'First of all, so what if she does, my mother loves me very much. Secondly, I meant your nagging.' 

'AWWWW someone's a mommy's boy.' I squish his puffy morning cheeks. ' And someone's got to be the responsible roommate, and that's certainly not you. You're basically an overgrown puppy.' 

'At least I'm cute. You're like a vicious black cat.' It's said as an insult but I beam at him.

'I love cats! Anyway, stop distracting me! I will dress you myself and drag you out of that door if I have to.'

'You know, if you wanted to get me naked you could just say that.' And there's that smirk again.

'Sorry to break it to you, but blondes aren't my type.' Ruffling his hair, I turn around to leave his room. 'Oh, and if you aren't ready in at least 3 minutes I'm leaving without you and telling the whole class you have explosive diarrhoea.'

I hear his chuckle from the hallway before he calls out, 'Yes, ma'am.'

-----------

'Well that was excruciating.' The lecture has just ended and I'm 99.9% sure everyone feels like the life has been sucked out of them.

'I swear Mr Chen enjoys making his students miserable. There's no other reason why he'd do this.' Laughing at Tae's reply I ask if he's up for our usual Monday brunch. We both have a gap before our next lesson so it's become kind of a tradition.

I'm met with a guilty smile, 'About that..'

'Tae. Do not tell me you're bailing on our tradition.'

'I'm sorry, but my next period was cancelled and I sort of have this thing.'

'What thing?' My face defiantly resembles the sus emoji right now.

'A date? I think?' 

'You're ditching me for a date and weren't even gonna tell me? I'm wounded. What happened to bros before hoes?' Clutching my chest I act as if I'm physically in pain. 

'I swear she means nothing to be. You're still my one and only, sweety pie.' We gaze into each others eyes for what feels like an eternity, both with a serious expression painted on. He breaks first, bursting out into laughter but I follow not long after. The looks we get are humbling but whenever I'm with Tae I cant seem to care.

'Have fun on your date. You better tell me every detail when you get back tomorrow.'

'Hey, have some faith in me I don't always hook up with them on the first date.' Giving him a sceptical look, I shake my head.

'Goodbye, Taehyung. And for the love of God use protection. No one wants a mini Tae running around, you cause enough chaos as it is.' 

'At least I get some action, you're just sexually frustrated all the time.' 

I slap him on the arm before shooing him off.

Great, now I have an hour to kill before I have my art class. With no other than Jeon Jungkook. This project is going to be the death of me. I've went from having to see him twice a week, every Monday and Friday, to having to actually interact with him three times a week.

We decided that we should meet every Wednesday as well as the art classes, mostly to take the photos and discuss how were getting on. Then during the actual class we can focus on making the art. 

Luckily, I brought a book with me to fill up this hour.

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a/n: no jk in this one unfortunately however roommate tae content!

[not-freyja]

So I know you're out of fic prompt period but the message is still pinned and I'm new, so!

Prompt for the underrated/important moments when they use their real names. When someone needs to hear 'Link' not a nickname.

Not going to lie, I had a lot more fun writing this than I should have. I hope you enjoy.

Fic under the readmore or on ao3

It’s funny, sometimes, hearing their real name. When it is out of the mouth of the postman, and they are all collectively giggling at the look on Sky’s face as yet another wad of letters is thrown into his arms whether he wants them or not. Or when they fill out the guest book at an inn, and varying scripts and fonts spell out the same syllable nine times over to the ever-increasing befuddlement of the proprietor who most likely thinks that they are playing some kind of prank.

It’s confusing as well, at times. A name shouted across a market has nine heads turning, nine people scanning the crowd for someone known, for some friend or family member in an automatic response regardless of what era of history that they all know for a fact that they are in. Or when someone asks if they ‘know Link’ or have ‘seen Link’ and those present for that conversation have to stop and ask clarifying questions (or just make the world’s worst vague jokes about it, thanks, Time).

Other times, it is a vague discomfort, as some person that one of their brothers has crossed or wounded or done some wrong to rages about ‘that boy Link’ and how he should know better than to show his face around these parts again. It is the shattering of hope as some loved one yells their name and comes running, and the other eight of them realize that they were not the one being spoken to, that the love in that voice was not meant for them, though it wrapped around their name as well.

It is a bitter jealousy, whether they like it or not. When one of them gets to be Link and the rest are relegated to a moniker, a mere epithet. It’s different when it is equal, when they are all on the same level. If no one is Link then they all are, and they know this. But when it is one of them, just one of them, that gets to lay claim to their name, there is an impulsive curl of the lip. There is an instinctual possessiveness. There is a selfish displeasure that what is theirs instead becomes one of theirs in the universal squabble of brotherhood.

Though, to be fair to brothers everywhere, most siblings (by birth or bond) do not share the same name.

And sharing can be hard. It can be difficult. It can be next to impossible, some days. But the thing about family is that they are called upon to do the difficult, impossible things for one another again and again and again, and in this little temporally fragile family, the call of labor on each other’s behalf is never left unanswered.

So they learn not just how to share this, their name, their most intimate possession, but to give it freely. To use it as a well-applied tool, as something else in their collective inventory.

It is a word of caution.

“Link, careful there,” Sky says, grabbing Warriors by the scarf as his foot slips over the edge of the narrow cliff-side trail.

It is a verbal emphasis.

“There is no way, Link,” Wars scolds, but fails to hide his smile, as Wind tries to desperately convince them all that they can, in fact, bring a kitten with them on their quest through time. He puts up a good fight, the Sailor—Link—does, but it’s not enough for victory. Not so severely outnumbered.

It is a threat.

“Link, shut the fuck up!” Wind screeches, tackling Wild to the floor after the third round of teasing today alone about how he’s crushing on his Captain. Tetra picks her head up from the navigation charts she was pouring over, sees the two boys rolling around on the deck laughing, and leaves them to it.

It is a manipulation tactic.

Wild bats his eyelashes like a child, pleading like a small fragile thing. “It was an accident.” Four arches an eyebrow, not impressed at all with the tone, with the handle of the broken blade. Wild’s pout deepens, and he sighs, “Please, Link?”

Like a house of cards, the Smithy folds. Another project starts at the next town, where their name isn’t thrown around by anyone but themselves, like all these other odd in between eras.

It is an expletive.

“Link,” Four says, not managing another word as he pinches the bridge of his nose, staring down into the pit in abject disappointment. Hyrule sits at the bottom, unbothered and laughing, which is a totally normal and sane reaction to falling into a hole.

It is a prayer.

The Traveler’s hands are redder than the tunic they are laid against, shining wetly in the light of the magic he pours out of them. The Vet himself is pale, so pale that it is terrifying, but Hyrule does not falter, does not stop. He just gathers up every drop of magic he has and pushes muttering in a constant murmur, “Come on Link, come on. Not yet!”

It’s an olive branch.

Legend fidgets, at the edge of camp. The others aren’t ignoring him, so much as he has isolated himself and one too many sharp words and defensiveness where there ought to have been gratitude. He can fix this. He knows he can, he’s done it before. He just has to make the effort. “Link,” he says as casually as he can manage, dropping down to sit cross-legged next to Time, on his blind side.

The Old Man quirks a tiny smile and leans toward him, knocking their shoulders together. All is forgiven, and Legend can breathe again.

It is an inside joke.

Left alone with the wolf is a rare position for any of them but Wild to find themselves in, and yet here Time is. “Come on, Link,” he says casually, starting down the trail back toward the others. “Can’t leave the others waiting all day, you know Wild’s in a mood.”

There is a twist of magic in the air behind him and Time turns, managing not to laugh at the utterly flabbergasted expression on Twilight’s face.

For about three seconds, that is.

It is a promise.

“On your feet, Link,” Twilight says, holding a hand out for Sky to take, to haul him back up to standing. “We’re ain’t quitting yet.”

Sky grins back bloody and heaves himself up, other hand wrapped securely around the hilt of his sword.

[loverofcats14]

Slut to Witness~ Lucifer x Reader

You shamefully rut against Lucifer's shoe for being a brat <3

You weren't being the most easy person you usually were today- You woke up late with Mammon and accidentally skipped first period. As you went to lunch you ran past Lucifer and Diavolo as they brushed past you,without a hello. Which Lucifer was iddmeditaly displeased- Then you decided after lunch to skip with Levi in the bathroom. You were going to skip this period aswell until Lucifer texted you.

Lucifer: Mc do come to my personal room for a visit. We need to talk.

You: uh sure but-

Lucifer: Now, don't make me wait Mc.

Lucifer sounded to any normal person like he just was concerned about you, but you knew his words spewed with poison."Well bye bye Levi-" you groaned walking to Lucifer's private room in RAD.

As you were about to knock Diavolo came out. "Ah Mc, I do hope you won't get another lecture haha. Do take care." Diavolo cheekly smiled as you smiled back. You walked in realizing Lucifer was all ready. His face was monotone, but his heavy aura wasn't. You could feel the tension as you meekly sat in a chair.

Lucifer was laying his heads on his fingers that were linked as his elbows were on the desk. He beckoned you to scoot your sear closer. As you tried the seat screeched against the floor. He sighed rubbing his temple.

"You can't even do that simple of a task without making me annoyed-?" His eyebrows scrunched as he looked at you. Truth be told he's only snippy because you didn't pay attention to him all day. But after learning of your unprofessionalism at school he was going to punish you.

You crossed your legs as you unbuttoned your jacket. And felt the death glare Lucifer was looking at you- you tried avoiding his gaze as you squirmed in your seat. "So uh whats up-?" You laughed awkwardly twirling a peice of your hair; looking at the floor in distress.

"Whats up? Hah, you skipped class and almost tried skipped this one with my brothers. That's whats up!" Lucifer eyes pierced yours as you looked down avoiding him. He got up walking towards you each step heavier than the last. Sitting on the edge of the desk he got annoyed how kept avoiding him. Were you not interested in him-? Did you want to date any of his brothers-?!

"Well at least I'm in school right haha-?" You tried looking back at Lucifer but keeping turning your head back. "Why are you acting like a brat?" Lucifer snapped at you. You didn't want to anger him so you kept looking down.

Lucifer's pride was bruised. Not even a human could listen to him. He grabbed your face almost making you almost fall out of your seat. "You will listen to me Mc. Keep acting like a brat and see what happens." You slapped his hand getting up from your chair.

"What's your deal?! Jeez you're acting like I actually hurt you-!" You gruffed going to the door. "Because you did godamnit!" Lucifer yelled slamming the desk with his fist. His eyes were forming tears as you looked back. "Wha-? Lucifer are you crying?" You were shocked as Lucifer huffed looking at you.

"Are you not interested in me Mc? I know we aren't even official but I thought you were still interested." Lucifer sighed as you walked towards him. You hugged him putting your neck in his shoulder. "Of course I am, Im just yours, please forgive me?" You sadly smiled.

You heard Lucifer chuckle has he held your figure throwing you backside to the table. "Humans can be foolish~" Lucifer snickered. "You jerk! I thought you were crying!?" You tried wiggling out of his touch. "You did hurt my feelings, how dare you snub me?" Lucifer mused.

His hands grazed your shirt as you shivered. "Little brats like you should be punished for being so disrespectful." He stepped away sitting on his chair head resting on his back hand. He crossed his legs looking at you with a smug smile.

"Crawl to me." He smiled as you confusingly went down. You crawled to him sitting down. He shook his shoe as your face realized what he wanted you to do. But before you prorested, "Be a good girl and use my shoe won't you?" He sneered moving it to your core.

You lifted your core over his shoe as you slowly rutted on it. The leather patches making it feel thick your clit starts leaking. You felt so ashamed on how good it felt. The friction sending you shocks of pleasure. but you were in no place to protest. "Don't worry I know you act like a whore when you're not around me. You will moan to my shoe you shameful whore, slut." Lucifer darkly smiled. As you started moaning holding his leg for balance as you felt your climax.

Lucifer loved seeing you act like a whore for him. He saw how you looked at him in classes, dress more with cleavage for him. And just seeing you act like this made his buldge bolder. To mess with Lucifer is signing your life away to his pleasure.

Lucifer started moving his shoe shaking it as your eyes widdened. "Ah~ please can I~" you whined as your eyes filled with tears. "Go ahead my slut, cum on my shoe." He smiled as he felt his shoe wetten as you screamed. He helped you get up and made you straddle him. "Im sorry Lucifer truly-" you huffed seeing Lucifer's face soften just a little.

"Don't worry my love, you will make up for it. And you will wear my love marks proudly." Lucifer sadisticly hummed as he bit your shoulder. "Your my slut for me to see~"

[businesscasualart]

i luv ur work, can I see a smal snippet of any fanfic ur working on👉👈 here’s a treat as payment🧁

AWWWW THANK YOU SM! I've posted so little work, I didn't expect anyone would care too much for my work, art or fanfic, as opposed to just like, my affinity for providing content for obscure characters and ships. <3 You are SO sweet, I'm crying TvT I'd love to share, it'd be an honor, treat or no treat as payment! Thank you for the treat tho XD

Okay, so, context: I've been in fandomless hell for a few months now. I can rely on the fact that I'll be bouncing back to and around the DC fandom every few months, but I'm absolutely directionless rn. The last thing I got working on is yet another Young Justice, Psimon/Devastation fic as always. I DO intend to write something else eventually, but I love Devapsimon <3

A friend requested this one RIGHT before I fell out of the YJ fandom into this period of nothingness. Now...you see...they don't watch YJ, they dislike superhero cartoons. They do know I love YJ tho.

I...don't...like...Omegaverse...BUT YOU SEE, MY FRIEND uh...got pretty big into it...in the Normalest way they could...If you don't know what it is, don't Google it.

My good, dear friend...requested of me...that the third fic I ever write...be a lil Psimon/Devastation Omegaverse fic for them and they PROMISE they'll pay me...somehow...presumably with a fic they'll write bc I KNOW they don't have money. SO FOR LIKE, three months, between fandomless hell, writing what I don't know, and KEEPING THIS THING PG-14...I've been writing that!

Maybe I'll convert it into a sickfic before posting it to Ao3! Bc I am so unsure about writing omegaverse and my abilities doing so. AND IT IS PRETTY MUCH A SICKFIC, I'm taking a very mild-hurt/comfort, mostly nesting, sickfic approach with it! I hope it's still enjoyable despite my long breaks writing it. I have to do some serious editing but rn I'm just trying to get it done! Wish me luck!

So uh

WIP Devapsimon Fic Snippet!

CW: uh, nothing really! There's not even much Omegaverse mention in this part...um...I don't know how to format a fic on Tumblr...there's an abundance of description of RV bunk beds...I can't find a good place to cut off the snippet...THIS IS ALSO VERY LONG FOR A SNIPPET, but this is my longest fic yet.... so uh...long preview! As a treat!

“D…Devastation?” He whispered hesitantly, torn between announcing his presence and not disturbing her rest.

Upon getting no response tried to gently, quietly push past the curtains but the metal curtain rings slowly drug against the metal bar making a screech that resounded in his ears and made him wince. 

He peered into the bunk section. It was darker than the rest of the RV, it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. 

It was honestly shocking how everyone could fit in here, it was a cramped ‘room’. If Baran or Tommy were to walk down the room, both of their shoulders would rub against the bunks lining either wall. Thankfully, the bunks themselves were of a decent size. 

They were built into the wall, like a shelf or cubby. They could hold a thin twin XL size ‘mattress’...well…really more so a foam pad than a mattress. However, the bottom bunk cubbies were decently tall, the larger Onslaught members still can’t really fit lying on their backs or sitting up, but they could fit just fine lying on their sides.

There were exactly six bunks, two on each side of the three-walled room. Additionally, hanging in the middle of the walkway between the two top bunks on the left and the right of the room, was a hammock. Cameron generously set it up when they got the Terror Twins on the team and claimed it for himself. He claims it was to win Tuppence’s favor but Psimon is almost certain it was just regular generosity and self-sacrifice. 

Each bunk had different privacy curtains shielding the inside of the bunks; some decorative, some blackout, some sheer; but a few were left open. 

One such bunk had its curtains open. Thankfully, it was the one with the only small window in the room, on the wall inside the top bunk across from the entrance. It didn’t provide much light, especially since the dusty blinds as well as small curtains on it were drawn. 

There were also string lights lining the room, courtesy of Selinda, to provide a gentle light but they were left off during the day. 

It was relatively clear whose bed was whose. Everyone had a relatively distinct sense of style, or lack thereof. 

Selinda’s was a simple bed with everything in some shade of black and purple. Tuppences lined her walls and ceiling with decor like photos, stickers, and posters. The other mens’ bunks generally looked like the beds had been abandoned for eight years, but Tommy decorated his similarly to Tuppence’s, only simpler; Mammoth’s bed had a king-sized comforter shoved in there and the walls were scratched up; and Cameron’s...well, he had a hammock.

Psimon’s bunk was by far the most organized one but it doesn’t stand out. All neutral colors, made up neatly. He had two pillows, but only really used one. He, like a few others, had small organizers hanging on the walls. He never had many personal, sentimental items to bring on these missions, so he mostly kept business related papers, pens, a tablet for work, and the like up there.

Each set of twins shared the bunks on two walls and Cameron...had a hammock…so Devastation slept in the bunk under Psimon’s.

Her bed was also simple and mostly neutral tones, but messier…usually. She had two or three more blankets and pillows than usual, all strewn about, along with a couple clothing items. It was notably more crowded.

Psimon had no idea how Devastation would be comfortable in that mess, and perhaps she wasn’t, because she wasn’t even in her bed. 

She sat on the filthy, old carpeted floor next to her bed, leaning halfway into the bunk, her face buried in her arms. 

“Devastation!” Psimon gasped, dropping to his knees next to her, nearly dropping the bowl in the process. He set it on the floor next to him, placing a hand on her back and the other on an arm.

Her hair was taken down but not brushed, left messy and tangled. She had also changed into her nightwear, striped shorts and a sleeveless top. They seemed to have been a lavender-type color, but they’ve lightened and grayed out over time, as well as developed a couple of small holes in seams here and there. 

“Oh, Devastation…” Psimon, voice quiet and full of concern, never finished his sentence.

He struggled to pull Devastation upright by her shoulders, pulling her to rest against him so he could see her face. Once he managed it, her weight nearly knocked him back onto the floor but she seemed to regain enough awareness to somewhat support her own weight and not throw it all on him at once.

Her eyes were glazed and distant when they fluttered open. She furrowed her brow and her eyes slowly moved to look at Psimon, in an attempt to figure out what was happening but before she could, he laid his hand over her face. 

He kept moving his hand around her face, to both of her cheeks and to her forehead as if they’d yield different results, but the results were clear. Devastation’s skin was impossibly hot, hotter than before, even in the short time that had passed. It was wet with sweat and flushed all over from her own body temperature. 

Her glassy eyes finally found Psimon’s face, despite his hand’s frantic search for a more reassuring result. Her mouth hung open slightly, as if to speak, but she only took in short, ragged breaths. 

“Oh…Oh Devastation…”