#because that would have been a wall of tags just made of fandoms and characters

[nicoline1998enilocin]

A drunk mind speaks a sober heart

PAIRING || Tony Stark x Avenger!Fem!Reader + Natasha Romanoff x Bruce Banner

WORDCOUNT || 7.3K

SUMMARY || You and Tony have been mutually pining for months, and he finally reveals his feelings during a party—albeit after a few too many drinks. The next day, you go out to confront Tony about it, and what happens next is better than you could have ever dreamed.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Canon divergence. Light angst. Mostly fluff. Explicit sexual content. Drunken confession. Flirting. Friends to lovers.

WARNINGS || Use of nicknames. Use of Y/N. Mutual pining. Idiots in love. Sexual tension. Minor character death. Insecure!Reader. Referenced low body image. Alcohol consumption. Drunk!Tony. Referenced infertility. Referenced fostering & adopting of a baby.

SMUT || Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Praise. Frantic sex. Sex against a wall. Lovemaking. Slow sex. Cockwarming. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). Multiple orgasms. Cream pie. Aftercare.

A/N || This one-shot is written based on this request from a lovely Anon! I hope you will enjoy it and that it was worth the wait! I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading and supporting me while writing this, as it has quickly become one of my favorites due to your enthusiasm! 🩵

EVENTS Masterlist || @avengersbingo || "What do you think I've been doing?" Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Book Night || Drunken confession Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Book Night || Soulmate is best friend Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May || "Do you want to talk about it?"

Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May || "Should I come back later?" Masterlist || @mcukinkbingo || Position: against a wall Masterlist || @multifandom-flash Beehive || Accidental declaration of love Masterlist || @multifandom-flash Compliments || You are better than you think you are

GIF: Source || All graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark Masterlist

"What have you been doing in here?" Natasha asks as she walks into your room. Your closet looks like it has exploded because clothes are everywhere, and you're standing in nothing but your underwear, unable to decide what to wear. You promised Tony you would help with his Iron Man suit today, so you want to look good.

"What do you think I've been doing?!" you exclaim as you throw another shirt to the side, deeming it unwearable.

"Ah, you're going to see your boyfriend again," she snickers, and you turn around to glare at her. She knows you've been crushing on him for years, and you wish nothing more than for him to be your boyfriend.

"He's not my boyfriend, and you know it," you say with a slight pout, disappointment settling in your gut. You turn around to pick up the next shirt, and as soon as you hold it up, you see it's one of Tony's. Bingo!

You quickly slip it on before finding a pair of black jeans and tucking the shirt into them for a finished look.

"What do you think?" you ask Nat, who has gotten comfortable on your bed with a snack, and she nods approvingly. When you have been searching for more outfits, she texts Bruce that you will be coming to the lab, and he gets the hint.

"Are you sure it's okay if I step out for a while?" Bruce asks Tony, who responds by humming. Without a second thought, he slips out of the lab, and when you have put on a pair of comfortable shoes, you make your way to Tony's lab.

"Good luck with your boyfriend!" Nat says with a broad smile, and before you walk through your door, you lift your middle finger to her, though she knows you don't mean it. You and Natasha have been best friends since childhood, and your becoming an Avenger has only brought you two closer together.

"Good luck with Nat, she's being a real bitch today!" you say loud enough for Natasha to hear as you pass Bruce in the hallway, and he just shakes his head with a smile.

"I love you too, Detka!" Nat responds as you step into the elevator, ready to go and meet Tony in his lab. You're not sure why he would need your help with the suit since you don't know much about it, but you go down regardless as you happily grab every chance you can to spend time with the man you're crushing on.

The elevator doors open, and you immediately enter Tony's lab. The familiar smell in the air reminds you of some happy memories. You have spent countless nights together with Tony, working or having deep conversations until late at night before falling asleep on an old couch he has.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would arrive-" Tony says with a broad smile as he turns around, though it immediately vanishes as soon as he sees you're wearing one of his old t-shirts. The brown of his irises turns black as his pupils widen, and he quickly turns around to hide the fact that he's getting a raging boner at the sight of you.

"Sorry, Nat held me up, but I'm here now! What can I help you with today?" you ask in your usual cheery voice, and Tony grabs the table's edge tightly, willing his boner to go away as he takes a few deep breaths.

"Just- just grab that thing over there," he waves his hand somewhere in the distance, and as soon as you do, he regrets it. The moment you bend over to grab what he wants, he looks over and groans loudly as he gets a good look at your ass in your skinny jeans.

"Are you okay, Tony? Do you need some help?" you ask, your brows knitted together as you stand up and look at Tony.

"N-no! Nope! All fine! Just- just gimme that," he says, and you look at him with a concerned expression. Despite that, you do as he says and then decide to make coffee for you both; he looks like he could use a break.

"Thank you," he whispers, and your fingers touch briefly, a spark going through both your bodies at the touch. He meets your gaze, and you're all he can focus on momentarily. He notices your hair hanging loose today and the dimples in your cheeks as you smile.

He notices the slight flush on your cheeks as you touch him, and your chest seems to rise and fall a little faster than usual. He has spent countless hours examining your body, and he has it all memorized, thinking about it every chance he gets.

"Coffee?" you ask, pulling him out of his trance. He nods before turning back to the table to finish the part of his glove he was working on. As you're walking to the kitchenette in his lab, he gathers his thoughts, and his boner finally starts to calm down, too.

However, your thoughts are still strong as you wait for the coffee machine to warm the water inside.

"Did he need to groan like that? God, he always seems to find a way to make me horny. Imagine how he sounds when- Stop it!" you think to yourself, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts of Tony groaning as he slides his length into your heat.

With your eyes shut tightly, you calm down your thoughts, and as soon as the coffee machine lets you know the coffee is finished, you bring it over to Tony. He had finished the work on the glove and was now looking at you making coffee, a smile dancing on his lips.

"Thank you, Cutie. I've been looking forward to a strong cup of your coffee," he tells you as he happily accepts the mug and brings it to his lips. The hot liquid is soothing as he takes a large sip before putting the mug on the table and reaching out his hand.

"I want to show you something," Tony says when you grab his hand. He guides you to the part of the table where his helmet is. When you face the table, Tony stands behind you, dangerously close, as he leans forward to grab it.

Your breath hitches as he leans down to tell you about some new features he built in, and your nipples pebble as you feel a flow of arousal ruining your panties. Goosebumps erupt in your neck as he whispers in your ear.

"Do you want to give it a try?" Tony asks, and you accept without knowing what you're saying yes to. You would say yes to anything if he asks you for it.

Tony turns the helmet around before opening it, then slides it carefully over your head before letting it close. Despite being made to fit Tony's head, it is still surprisingly comfortable, and you smile widely as you look at the helmet's features.

"How's the fit?" Tony asks, touching your waist, making you blush hard. It's good he can't see your face right now, as it would have only worsened it. Just as you're about to answer him, Bruce walks back into the lab, and he's not sure what he's looking at right now.

"Should I come back later?" Bruce carefully asks, and you and Tony whip your heads around to face him. Tony quickly steps away from you so as not to raise too much suspicion. In all fairness, Bruce knows Tony's crush on you, but Tony still steps back out of habit.

You open the helmet before handing it to Tony, and without another word, you rush out of the lab. Both men look at you as you try to get away quickly. You quickly run up the stairs, and you're glad to find Nat in the privacy of her room.

"Nat, we need to talk, but can we do it in the gym, maybe? I need to get out some leftover energy," you ask, and she agrees. Both of you change into something a little more comfortable and workout-ready, and then you meet up in the large gym of the Avengers Compound.

You've been going to town on a punching bag for a little while now, and Nat's there to listen to your venting, which is the perfect way to express your frustrations.

"I don't know how long I can take it anymore! Everything he does makes me horny, and I can't think straight anymore," you say, the words being emphasized by the punches you're landing.

"And the worst is that I doubt he feels the same about me. He's Tony Stark, for fuck sake, and I'm me. Who would ever be interested in me?!" you think out loud, and Nat can feel her heart break a little at your words. You stop punching the bag, and the tears start to flow.

"I'm never good enough for anyone, Nat. And I have accepted that, but it sucks that I have all these feelings for him because I know he doesn't feel the same-" you say as you crouch down, making yourself as small as possible as you let the sobs tear through your body.

"C'mere, Detka," Nat whispers as she sits on her knees before you and pulls you close to her. She wishes she could tell you how Tony feels in such moments, but she also knows it's not her place. All she can do now is reassure you.

"Hey, you are better than you think you are. Not just on the battlefield, because you're one of the best snipers and fighters I've ever met, but you're also the most kind-hearted and amazing woman I know, Detka. I know it's not easy to see that after everything you've been through, but it's true," Natasha tells you, pushing the hair out of your tear-stained face.

"You're beautiful, and Tony would be lucky to call you his girl. But most of all, you deserve to be loved, no matter what your brain tells you," Nat whispers, and you believe her. You've been struggling with a low body image for years, and in moments like these, it all comes out in one long flow of words.

"C'mon, let's shower and prepare for a girl's night, okay? I'm sure Wanda would love to join us too, and we can have a girls' night just like we used to when growing up, okay?" Nat offers, and you smile through your tears.

"Yes, please!" you say before wiping the last tears away, and after your shower, you put on your comfiest pair of fluffy pajamas before making your way to Nat's room. On the way there, you run into Bruce and Tony.

"Hi, Cutie. Is everything okay? You left so suddenly earlier," Tony asked softly, his face filled with worry.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay now. Thank you, Tony. Nat, Wanda, and I will have a girls' night, so if you don't hear from Nat for the evening, you'll know why!" you tell Bruce excitedly, and he laughs as he nods in understanding.

"Have fun, Cutie," Tony says before leaning in and kissing your cheek softly before moving along. You're nailed to the floor as you can't stop thinking about the scratch of his facial hair against your cheek and the softness of his lips on your skin.

When you can finally move, you practically sprint to Nat's room, and as soon as you swing open the door, you tell them the good news.

"TONY KISSED ME ON THE CHEEK!" you practically scream out as you jump up and down, and Nat loves the happiness radiating from you now. You let yourself fall onto her bed with a broad smile, and that evening, you can't stop gossiping about guys with your two best friends.

"Your target is walking out the door now!" you hear Steve say over the earpiece you're wearing, and before he knows what happened, he's hit by a bullet that takes his life instantly. He was the last of the bad guys you needed to eliminate, and you had done it successfully.

A sigh of relief leaves your chest as you put down your sniper rifle, and you go to sit up, desperate for some stretching after lying on the roof for hours on end.

"You did an amazing job, Cutie. We couldn't have done it without you," Tony says over the line, and a broad smile appears.

"It wasn't just me, Tony. Everyone helped with this mission," you say, trying not to take all the credit, but he won't stand for it.

"This weekend, we'll be partying in your honor. We haven't had a mission this successful in quite a while, and we all deserve a night of letting loose as well," Tony says matter-of-factly, and you sigh, knowing you won't be getting out of this one.

And that's how you find yourself walking into the party that Tony's throwing for you. You opted to wear a summer dress combined with white heels, as the party will take place on the rooftop terrace of the Avengers Compound, and the weather outside is beautiful. You're arriving with Bruce and Natasha as they walk hand-in-hand in matching outfits.

Natasha opted for a short, tight black dress, and Bruce is wearing black jeans and a black button-up shirt, which perfectly match Natasha's aesthetic.

"How does it feel to have a party thrown in your honor, Y/N?" Bruce asks, and you chuckle nervously. Despite being an Avenger for almost four years, you're not used to being in the spotlight yet.

"I-" is all you can say because Tony is by your side and pulling you away from your friends before you know it. Nat looks at you two with a raised eyebrow, and Bruce smiles at Tony's antics. If there are ever two people rooting for you two, it's them, just like you have done for them.

"I believe your nickname should be Gorgeous because Cutie doesn't even come close to how you look tonight," Tony whispers in your ear, and you can feel your face heating up with his flirting.

"Thank you, Tony. You look amazing, too," you say as you look at him. He's wearing light-colored slacks with a half-unbuttoned shirt, showing off the light blue hue coming from his arc reactor. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the dusting of chest hair around it, and your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you stare for a moment too long.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" he quips at you, and the heat on your cheeks is now plainly visible to everyone around you, seeing how Tony caught you staring at him. He smirked before turning to the man behind the bar and ordering his favorite drink, which was a dirty martini with extra olives for himself.

He places his large, strong hand on the small of your back as you two are waiting for your drinks to be ready, and Tony's touch is all you can focus on right now. He has touched you countless times before, but it's never felt this intimate before.

"Here you go, Gorgeous, this one's in your honor," Tony says as he lifts his glass, cheering against yours before leaning in for a soft kiss on your cheek. He has already had a few drinks and has become a bit looser and more affectionate.

The feel of Tony's soft lips on your cheek has your eyes slipping shut and a smile working its way onto your features as you enjoy the moment. However, the moment you open your eyes, Tony has disappeared, and you're left with a disappointed feeling settling in your gut.

"You did amazing on the last mission. You know your way around a sniper rifle better than I've ever seen anyone do," a deep voice behind you says. When you turn around, you see a pair of steel blue eyes you haven't seen in a while.

"Bucky, you're back!" you say as you look at his long hair, which he has been growing for a while now. He's been on an undercover mission with Clint for over six months, and you've missed seeing his face around here.

"Yeah, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity of being here for you, especially after Steve wouldn't shut up about how you took him down with just one bullet, and right between the eyes, too. I'm impressed!" he tells you, and you smile widely.

Bucky and Steve have been married for longer than you have been an Avenger, and even though he was very standoffish at first, he eventually warmed up to you. You share a similar set of fighting and shooting skills, often being paired together on missions.

"But tell me, how's it going between you and Tony? Is there anything going on between you two?" he asks before sipping his beer, and your eyes widen.

"N-no, there's not. And I doubt there ever will be anything between us. I'm pretty sure I'm far from his type if the girl he's currently putting into a headlock is anything to go by," you tell your friend while looking at Tony, standing with his arm around a girl who's the complete opposite of you.

"Oh, that's weird. I thought something was going on between you two," Bucky tells you, and he looks at you with pity, but you don't want any pity about the situation. Tony can be with whomever he wants, and even though you'd love for it to be you, you won't get in the way of his happiness with someone else either.

"There's not; sorry to disappoint," you say with a chuckle, though it's not entirely convincing. To get the attention off of yourself for a moment, you decide to ask Bucky about his mission. He tells you all about it while you occasionally look at Tony.

Eventually, Bruce and Natasha join you two, greeting Bucky happily while more drinks are served to your little group. Not long after, Steve joins, too, but not without giving Bucky a few kisses on his lips. The love between them is evident, and it makes you a bit jealous at the same time because you're yearning for a love like theirs.

As the evening progresses, the drinks flow plentifully, and you start to feel a nice buzz—nothing over the top, but just enough to become more of a people person. And just when you're about to take the next drink Steve is about to hand you, you feel someone bump into you.

"Watch out!" you exclaim as you turn around, but you instantly regret it as you look into Tony's deep, dark brown eyes and feel bad for raising your voice at him.

"I-I'm sorry, let's sit down for a moment," you say as you carefully grab Tony's arm, and he happily holds onto your arm. There's an empty couch in the corner of the rooftop where you lead Tony, and he sits down with a huff, his legs spread wide, exposing the bulge in his pants.

"Can I tell you a little secret?" Tony whispers as he leans in close. Your cheeks turn red as you look at him. He's only inches away from your face, and you nod.

"I'm so in love with someone," Tony says, giggling as the words leave his lips. He's very drunk, but that doesn't make the feeling of hurt in your heart any less. He's in love with someone else, and the fact he has to tell you at the party he throws in your honor only makes it worse.

"Like, deeply in love, you know? She's fucking gorgeous, like, I can't keep my eyes off her whenever we're in the same room, and I think about her every second of every day. I also looooooooooove spending time with her and seeing the dimples in her cheeks and her smile, oh my god, her smile!" Tony continues, a deep red blush appearing on his cheeks as he thinks about the woman he's describing.

"I just love everything about her, and not only is she my best friend, but I think she's also my soulmate. But please don't tell Y/N I told you this, okay? I don't think she loves me back," Tony ends his little rant, still inches away from your face. You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, and a lump forms in your throat as you're not sure what to do with your emotions right now.

So, instead of answering him, you get up and walk out of the party to the bathroom so you can gather your thoughts for a moment.

"Can you keep an eye on Tony for a moment?" Natasha asks Bruce as you speed past the Avengers you were talking to earlier. He does so while she quickly goes after you.

"So, what were you and Y/N talking about?" Bruce asks as he sits down next to Tony, who looks at him as he practically runs out of the party.

"What're you talking about? That wasn't Y/N. I would know if I was talking to her," Tony says casually, but Bruce can't help but smile at Tony's words.

"I'm not so sure about that because it was definitely Y/N you just talked to," Bruce said with a chuckle. He had never seen Tony sober up so fast in his entire life.

"Oh my God, I just told her I love her, Bruce! I told her I'm in love with her, and now she ran out of here; this is an absolute fucking nightmare! She must think I'm an asshole for doing that; oh my God, what have I done?! I need to go talk to her-" Tony says, but Bruce stops him there.

"I think it's best to go to bed now and sleep it off. Y/N will still be here tomorrow, and you two can talk it out then, okay? Nat is with her, so she's in good hands, alright?" Bruce tells Tony, and he nods.

Meanwhile, in the ladies' bathroom.

"Are you okay, Detka?" Natasha asks as she finds you in the bathroom. You're trying to fix your make-up, which is helpless as the tears keep flowing.

"I-I don't k-know," you say between sniffles, and she pulls you into a hug. Not saying a word, just letting you get out all your emotions as she soothingly rubs the back of your head. You pull Natasha tight against your body as all the feelings rush out. The confusion, the hurt, and the happiness all come out in one confusing mess of tears, and you're glad not to go through it alone.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, and you nod before pulling away. Natasha can't help but laugh as she sees your make-up - or what's left - and you join in with her, falling into a fit of laughter together.

It takes either of you a good ten minutes before either of you can breathe calmly again, and that's when you decide to lay it all out: everything that happened with Tony and how you feel about it.

"H-he just told me he loves me, but I'm not sure if it's true or not..." you start, your voice trailing near the end. You cast your line of sight to the ceiling to prevent yourself from starting crying again, and you're successful despite the pit in your stomach and the lump in your throat.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asks as she brushes a piece of hair behind your ear.

"He's drunk as a skunk, Nat. He can barely walk, let alone form any normal thoughts. I'm sure it's just the drinks talking, but what if it's not? What if it isn't, and he does love me? What if he—" you say when Natasha suddenly grabs your face. This move startles you enough to get you to stop talking for a moment, and her plan works.

"If you want to, I can get all the Avengers out of the Compound tomorrow, so you and Tony can have a nice home-cooked dinner and some time to talk. That way, you can ask him directly about it, and I am 99 percent sure he will confirm your questions," Natasha says as you look into her bright green eyes.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" you ask, a little unsure but excited at the same time.

"I think it's the best idea I've had in a long time," she says, and you smile in response. After confirming the plans, you two return to the party, but to your surprise, Tony isn't there anymore.

"I had to bring him to bed; he was talking nonsense at this point," Bruce says as you join the rest of the Avengers again, and you smile. It's probably for the best, but it doesn't take long for you to retire to your bedroom. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, after all.

Natasha has kept her word, and all the Avengers are out of the Compound the following day—except you and Tony. While he has spent most of the day sleeping and hanging around in his penthouse, you have spent most of the night lying awake after his confession, mulling it repeatedly.

You have tried to keep yourself busy for as long as possible, but you cannot contain yourself any longer, so you decide to head up to Tony's penthouse, hoping he's willing to talk about what happened last night. In any case, you will be spending time with Tony.

Just as you're about to head out the door, you take a last look in the mirror and decide to get changed. You want to be able to have a serious conversation and not have Tony laugh about you wearing your silly pajamas, no matter how comfortable they may be.

Instead, you wear your matching loungewear set with sneakers, making you look at least a little presentable. Combined with a messy bun and your glasses, you're ready to talk to Tony while making dinner for you both because you're starting to get hungry.

When you're at Tony's door, you knock a few times, and much to your surprise, the door flings open almost instantly, as if he was waiting on the other side of it, expecting your arrival. His hair is still wet from a shower, and he's wearing only a large towel around his waist.

Before you even say a word, your gaze drops lower, over his broad, muscled shoulders and arc reactor to his defined abdomen and adonis belt. You have caught him at a perfect time, apparently.

"Hi, Cutie, come in. I'm going to get dressed quickly, so please help yourself to anything here," he says softly, and you nod before stepping into his penthouse and closing the door behind you. While Tony walks back to his bathroom, your line of sight is pulled to the sway of his hips, which defines the perfectly round shape of his butt perfectly.

"I wouldn't stare too long if I were you. Otherwise, there's nothing to enjoy for the rest of the world!" Tony said jokingly as he turned the corner to his bathroom. You felt the heat in your cheeks rise at his words and quickly looked away.

While Tony is getting dried off and dressed, you decide to have a look in his fridge. You want to make something for dinner, and much to your surprise, he has everything you need to make a delicious carbonara, so that's exactly what you'll do.

Tony comes back about 10 minutes later, and the entire kitchen smells of the most delicious, fragrant foods he's smelled in a while. This makes him smile as he sees you fluttering around in his kitchen as if it's your own.

"What're we having for dinner?" Tony asks as he comes to stand behind you. You feel yourself tense up a little as he looks over your shoulder, his hand on your waist. Usually, you wouldn't have given this a second thought, but after yesterday, everything has changed.

"I decided to make pasta carbonara, your favorite," you tell him with a small smile, and he nods in approval.

"Sounds good to me," he says before walking away and sitting at his large kitchen island. As you do your magic in the kitchen, there's some small talk between you both, but surprisingly, it doesn't feel awkward in the slightest.

Not long after, you've finished the pasta, and after plating two dishes for both of you, feeling proud of what you have made. Cooking has always been your passion, and Tony is more than happy to indulge in everything you make, as he knows you're a fantastic cook.

Once you're seated across from Tony, you decide to bite the bullet, knowing there is a great chance he won't even remember the conversation you two had last night - if you can even call it that.

"Tony, do you remember what happened last night?" you ask outright, and his eyes go wide as he realizes exactly what you're talking about. He may have been drunk enough not to know most of last night, but the love confession is engraved in his memory.

He looks at you with a shocked expression at first, but almost instantly, his features soften before he nods, giving you a reassuring smile.

"I do remember it, yeah. And I want to apologize for it. The timing was horrific, and you deserve so much more than a stupid drunk confession," Tony starts. You play with the noodles on your plate, and your appetite disappears.

"So it was a mistake, and he doesn't love me," you think, and Tony notices something's off.

"Can you tell me what's going on in your mind, Cutie?" he tries, but you shake your head, fighting the tears threatening to escape. You don't want to tell him that you're afraid he didn't mean it or that he doesn't love you.

"That's okay. But I hope you will take what I'm about to say now to heart because I meant it and still mean it. I'm in love with you, Y/N, and I have been for as long as I can remember! Whenever we're in the same room, I can't stop looking at you, and your smile is something I look forward to seeing every morning," Tony tells you, and the tears you were fighting earlier are now streaming down your cheeks.

You lower your gaze to your pasta as you don't want him to see you crying but to no avail. Within seconds, he's by your side, his arms wrapped around you as he pulls you close to his chest.

"It's okay, Cutie. I'm sorry for how I behaved yesterday, but do you believe me when I say I love you? That I'm in love with you? Being apart from you physically hurts me every time, as if a piece of my heart is missing. As if a part of my soul has gone with you, and it only feels right when you're back with me," he tells you, and you can't do anything but sob into his t-shirt.

Every last doubt and sliver of hope you have held onto is coming out, and the relief you're feeling is so overwhelming that it all comes out at once. But Tony doesn't mind; he will hold you for as long as you need, for the rest of his life. He will be there for you through good times and bad, through sickness and health, till death do you part.

Eventually, you calm down enough to stop crying and wipe your tears away with the tissues he's gotten for you. With a soft thank you, you wipe your face and drink a few sips of water before facing him.

"I believe you, Tony. And I am deeply in love with you as well," you whisper to him, and the smile on his face is one of nothing but pure, unabashed happiness.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, and without saying another word, you wrap your arms around his neck, crashing your lips against his in a messy yet perfect first kiss. Tony's hands are sliding under your thighs before lifting you, the food you have prepared long forgotten now.

As you're both starting to get a little impatient, Tony backs you against a nearby wall, and his hands wander from your thighs to your waist and up to your face before he pulls away, leaving you both panting and hungry for more.

"Do you want to continue this trail to the bedroom? Because as much as I love you and want you, your comfort and safety go above everything else," Tony asks as his hand gently cups your face. You lean into his touch as you look at him.

"Yes, Tony. I want this, and I want you. Please make me yours," you tell him, and with those words, you're officially together. You're his, and he's yours. From this moment on, nothing can come between you two, and he can't wait to make it official by burying himself deep inside you.

"God, I love you so much," he says between kisses, and he ruts his hips against yours as he keeps you pinned against the wall, his cock achingly hard in his sweatpants. Pre-cum is already leaking from the tip, and your panties are ruined as another gush of arousal floods them.

Before you can even comprehend what's happening, Tony has ripped your pants in half with a force you've never seen before, but it only turns you on further as he frees his cock before fisting it a few times and lining it up with your waiting entrance.

"So wet for me, Cutie; you're dripping all over me right now," Tony says as he pushes into your tight heat, the pressure in your core already building with every thrust as he works himself into your entrance.

While there's nothing romantic about this moment persé, he's still charming and caring as he works himself into you. The moment he bottoms out, he knows he's a complete goner for you. He's entirely and unabashedly yours for the rest of your lives.

"F-fuck me, Daddy," you moan out as your eyes slip shut, and Tony can feel you clench around him at the nickname. He's never had a thing for being called 'Daddy,' but hearing it tumble from your lips has him throbbing inside your hot, tight pussy.

"Call me that again, Babygirl, fuck," he says through gritted teeth, and as soon as you do, he sets a brutal pace, bouncing you up and down on his giant cock, splitting you open on every last inch of it. The veins adorning his length give you the extra stimulation you need, and before you know it, you're cumming on his cock for the first time, screaming his name as he fucks you against a wall.

"That's it, fucking cum for Daddy, squeezin' me so fucking hard," he groans out, and when he's about to cum, he suddenly stops every last bit of movement, as he doesn't want to cum just yet.

"Hold on to me, girl. I'm gonna take you for a little walk," he says, and you happily do. As you nuzzle your face into his neck, he holds you tightly against his chest until he suddenly dips you down onto the mattress of his king-size bed.

"I need to pull out for just a moment, but I'll be burying myself deep inside you soon enough," Tony said as he nosed along your jaw before placing a few soft kisses on your cheek, nose, and lips. You moan at the loss of him inside you, but he quickly pulls down his sweatpants fully before undressing you as well.

The moment you're both entirely bare, he stops for a moment to indulge himself in your beauty, his hands wandering over every inch of your body. Your breasts get a little extra attention, but he can't stay away from your heat too long as he places himself over your body.

"You're doing so perfect for me, Cutie," he says softly as he pushes back in, and this time your pussy welcomes him without any resistance, and it's like you two are made for each other. He fits perfectly in the space he carved out with his cock earlier, and he wants to be buried inside you for the rest of your lives.

His hands find yours, and he interlaces his fingers with yours as he sets a slow pace, rolling his hips in a way that has you wanting more, and it is only emphasized by the way your back is arching and yours are working in tandem with his.

Tony's drinking in the moans and whimpers that fall from your lips as his forehead is pressed against yours, the intimacy of the moment bringing you to your second high of the evening. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you look into Tony's eyes, and you feel every last drag of his cock inside you.

"So perfect; I love you so much," Tony whispers as his high approaches rapidly. He can't stop confessing his love for you; you never want him to. Hearing those words from Tony means more than anything anyone has ever said to you before. They make this moment perfect.

"I'm close, Babygirl, and I can feel you're close too. I want you to cum one more time for me, okay? Cum one more time for Daddy, and then I'll give you every last drop of my seed," Tony says, and you nod.

His hand disappears between your bodies, and his fingers rub your clit a few times before you cum again with a scream of his name, your nails scratching his back as the pleasure blinds you for a moment, and you see nothing but white.

Tony's pace becomes frantic and sloppy, and before you know it, he's cumming deep inside you as his cock is nestled as deep as it'll go. The warmth of his seed spreads inside you, and Tony has captured your lips in a sweet kiss, his tongue slipping in to mingle with yours.

"I love you so much, Cutie. Thank you for giving me a chance and for saying yes to being my girl. Now, my life has started. With you by my side, I can do anything," Tony tells you as his nose bumps and rubs against yours lovingly, and your heart feels full of love.

"I love you too, Tony, more than I can ever explain," you whisper with a smile, and that evening, you spend most of it in Tony's arms. After pulling out and cleaning you up, he pulled you into the shower, where he took fantastic care of you as he washed your entire body and hair, too.

Now, you're wearing Tony's boxer briefs and a hoodie as you eat some take-out. The pasta you had made earlier was deemed inedible after being left out for multiple hours.

"Y'know, I can't wait to tell Natasha about us. She's been our biggest cheerleader from day one, and I'm sure she would love to know about our conversation," you tell Tony, and he knows damn well it implies that you will say to her about the amazing sex you had as well.

"Hm, and I can't wait to hear all about her reaction from Bruce," Tony jokes. You both laugh as your legs are intertwined on the couch, and you feed each other random pieces of sushi. That night, you stay in his penthouse, which will be the first night of many you will happily spend there.

The following day, as you're in the kitchen making breakfast for yourself, Tony couldn't join because of an early meeting on the other side of the city. Natasha walks into the kitchen, looking for all the details from last night.

"Mornin', sleepyhead," Natasha says as she pulls open the fridge, looking for some breakfast. You already prepared some for her as well. You're still dressed in Tony's hoodie, which is enough evidence for her to know where you slept last night.

"Let's go to my room so we can talk in private," you say as you hand Natasha the plate of food. She happily accepts before following you. You both get comfortable on the oversized couch in your room and immediately start recounting everything that happened in Tony's penthouse.

From you making dinner to the love confession, and from Tony ripping your pants in half to fuck you against a wall to the lovemaking, nothing gets left out. It's not something either of you is embarrassed about either, as you two have shared many stories about sexual experiences in your past, and you're being kept up-to-date on new things Bruce and Natasha try out as well.

"But you know what the most special moment was? When he was buried inside me, he interlaced my fingers with his, and he told me he loved me. Honestly, I have never felt so loved by anyone before, and I'm glad to call him my boyfriend now," you say with a significant smile, and Natasha couldn't possibly be happier for you two.

"You deserve it, Detka. You do. Tony may be an idiot sometimes, but he's your idiot, and that's all that matters," she says, and you nod. There's a small silence between you both as Natasha gathers the courage to tell you some good news, and she needs to ask you something important, too.

"Detka, I have some news I've been wanting to share with you. Bruce and I got confirmation last night that we're allowed to foster and eventually adopt a baby. As you know, I can't have them naturally, so we have been going down that route and will be fostering a baby girl named Rose," Natasha says proudly.

"Are you kidding?! That is amazing news, Nat! I'm so happy for you two! When will I be able to meet the little girl?" you quickly ask, eager to get to know your future niece.

"She will be placed with us within the next month, and from then on, I will become a stay-at-home Mom. I've been thinking of retiring from Avenging for a while, and there's no better time than to do it now," she tells you, and you nod.

"But there's one more thing I want to ask you. Will you be Rose's godmother once we adopt her?" Natasha asks, and without a shadow of a doubt, you agree to it before pulling her in for the highest possible hug. She's been dreaming of becoming a Mom for years, and to see her dream come true is amazing.

"You both deserve it so much, Nat. I can't tell you enough how happy I am for you," you tell her. Down in Tony's lab, a similar conversation occurs.

"Tony, will you give us the honor of becoming Rose's godfather once we adopt her?" Bruce asks Tony, and of course, he agrees right away, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Of course I will. Y/N and I will take care of her like she's our own," Tony promises, and it's true.

A few months later, you two are babysitting for Bruce and Natasha, and you take care of the little girl like she's your own. You can't wait to tell Tony about your pregnancy, but that can wait a few more days. Now, you're basking in the glory of the little girl lighting up your world, just like yours will once she's born.

[writing-for-life]

The Self-Love, Sex and Pursuit of the Helm Novels

Part 2: Bully for You—An Unhinged Interlude

Okay, I’ve spent the whole @sandman-rarepair-fest with tragic relationships, poetry and being serious.

And while this relationship is also… tragic, it’s neither poetic nor to be taken seriously, although a small group of us are fully committed to the cause: Behold, the crack ship! Morpheus x The Helm! For the Monsterfucker prompt.

(It’s highly advisable to read part one first, but they can sort of exist independently. Just not as well 🤣)

Bully For You: An Unhinged Interlude (2321 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, Desire of the Endless, The Helm (The Sandman) Additional Tags: I Blame Tumblr, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Or Is It?, Muhulhu, Drat! A HelmLord Story, Murphy and his Cool Hat, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Swearing, Masturbation, Anal Something, Because I have no clue what they are doing honestly, helm fucking, Monsterfucking of sorts, It's a Dream of a Thousand Cats Situation, At least a thousand fanfic writers were thinking of the same thing, but he actually enjoyed it, although he would never admit to it, Dream and the Helm finally get it on, About Time, tags what tags they make no sense, don't get your hopes up, this is not really smut, it has all the marks of being explicit, but somehow it's really not Series: Part 2 of The Self-Love, Sex and Pursuit of the Helm Novels: A Tragicomedy in Three Movements Summary:

Where we witness how the Lord of Dreams loses his bearings (no, not those ones), and even Desire needs a stiff drink…

If you always wanted to know what's so special about Dream's relationship with his Helm (capital H on occasion), this might provide some answers. Or raise more questions than you ever dared to ask...

Excerpt:

Desire had felt… things for a short while but shrugged the sensations off. Until they became impossible to ignore. Because he wanted something without their doing (although what comes first, or who, was sometimes hard to tell, but not to get lost in details at this point, dear reader). In lieu of ridiculous desires like “something beyond my function, blah blah”, it would usually be shaped like a woman. Since Desire had given him Killalla (and maybe, just maybe, taken her away again, which still made them chuckle), he had developed a bit of a kink for female-shaped mortals. Well, they hadn’t all been mortal, but the “female-shaped” still stood. And because of the mere fact that their brother was so painfully strait-laced (we suggest the spelling “straight-laced” here, dear reader), it came as a bit of a surprise to feel those decidedly different vibes. Dream wanted something. But it wasn’t a woman, or anything remotely female-shaped. It was…

What the heck was it?

Desire concentrated really hard.

It seemed to be something forged in the fever dream of a blacksmith who took his inspiration from a lobster and a nightmare. Something otherworldly, something with a spine like the tail of a crustacean. Truly, if a lobster decided to pursue a career in gothic architecture and at the same time became some sort of… headgear, it would probably look like this.

Desire first rolled their eyes but then felt their breath catching. “It’s his fucking helm,” they muttered. “Please give me a break. He wants to fuck his helm…”

Brother Dream, master of the subconscious, running his hand tenderly, with a slight shake, over the spine of that ludicrous thing. Desire laughed out loud, but the laugh was short-lived, because things began to unravel. Rapidly…

Read the rest here (otherwise I have to add a content label 🤣)

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Fandom Observation Nicknames and Funny Tags: Part Jujutsu Kaisen

To add to my fandom behaviors and trends series. I thought it would share some of the funny or slutty nicknames some of the fandoms have given to their characters because trust me some had me laugh out loud and deserve more attention due to the creativity. Not just the nicknames. The tags have also been something to behold. But just in case that's not your thing, I did put a break in the post so expand at your own risk

Now let me make myself perfectly clear this is not meant to shame or call anyone out. I am genuinely impressed with the creativity and you guys made me laugh. So again in my opinion these were too good just to be lost in the tags or in the anonymous messages, several you sent me.

So, let's start with Jujutsu Kaisen because that fandom is the best when it comes to nicknames and absolutely hilarious tags. So here are some of my favorites and they have at least one for every character

Kento Nanami: The Linkedin Daddy, The eldest daughter's dream man, " When you're tired of trying to fix him and now want a man that can fix you", The malewife, "The smutty wolf of Wall Street," "A man that could make a housewife out of anyone", Nanami 'i break walls with creeps and kneel for women' Kento," & Corporate Bae.

Gojo: "The unstable himbo", Everything the youngest child has ever dreamed of, The I could fix him (no one can fix him), A little freak affectionate

Geto: The "mentally ill genocidal pookie", "a DILF that fathered so hard he mothered", The middle child's dream man, & Precious baby girl who has done nothing wrong in their entire life (has literally committed terrorism and murder), "my princess with disorders."

Toji Fushiguro: "A horrible father that just happens to be unreasonably hot", Darling dirtbag, Extra wide blorbo, Precious beef cake, it would be worth the STD, hear me out the worm offers some interesting possibilities, my precious darling deadbeat, babygirl, The things I would let him do to me,

Choso: "His sunken eyes and depressed swag have captivated me", my little emo boy, "he is a beautiful angel and i want to sit on his face until he drowns in my p**** juice", pookie, big handsome kitty, baby daddy, mr. rideable nose, 150 y/o virgin.

Mahito: A "beloved princess with a disorder", "When you just want to freak who's objectively a monster"

Sukuna: "When you're down for atrocities", I might not survive but it would be worth it & Four armed daddy,

Yuki Tsukumo: "My tall and buff queen", & dommy mommy with a motorcycle.

I think everyone can tell the fandom favorites and if I see any more in the future I will add them. But I hope at least someone gets a laugh out of these and thank you to the people who put these nicknames or phrases in the comments, tags and multiple anonymous messages received.

And just in case you're feeling called out JJK fandom this is just part 1 of a series. I have multiple other fandoms posts started in the draft box

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

you look like you love me

Fandom: Bullet Train

Pairing: Tangerine x Original Female Character

Characters: Tangerine, Lemon, Original Female Character [Clementine]

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4606

Summary: I'm drunk and I'm ready to leave and you look like you love me.

Tags/Warnings: Kissing, Gun Shot Wounds, Near Death Experience, Not Canon, Tangerine Lives, Arguing, Guilt

Notes: the girl mindlessly scrolling through tiktok is me x

MASTERLISTS // TAG LIST // SONG LINK

‘No fucking chance,’ Tangerine said firmly earning a groan from his party.

‘Oh come on!’ Clementine whinged, a pout on her pinkened lips.

‘No,’ he said again.

‘Oh go on, don't be a spoil sport,’ Lemon said, rolling his eyes as Tangerine glared at him. As he took a sip of his pint he watched Clementine fold her arms across her chest, her pout growing bigger as if she were a child not getting her own way. Tangerine said, ‘oh don’t be like that.’

‘I just want to sing karaoke,’ she said, leaning up but not uncrossing her arms.

‘Sing it with Lemon then!’ he reasoned, gesturing at the man beside him. He’d leant back now watching the pair of them verbally spar. He knew there was no point in getting involved, they could, and would, hold their own and it was preferable they were taking chunks out of one another rather than setting their sights on him. In fact Clementine’s presence in their life had been a welcomed relief, someone else to bore the brunt of his brother's somewhat varying temper.

‘Oh I intend to but I want to do it with you too,’ the blonde replied before sighing and pleading, ‘oh come on it’s just a bit of fun.’

‘Not for everyone else in here considering I can't even sing,’ Tangerine retorted.

‘It’s karaoke you don’t have to be able to sing,’ she said. Tangerine scowled, his moustache twitching at the movement. It was always like this with her. She never let anything drop, always picking away at things until they ended up fighting or worse he gave up. Sometimes he had to for his own sanity but he couldn’t help it she just got under his skin.

But right now he had the energy to spar with her. This was their celebration of a job well done and though she had been the one to choose the establishment, a cheesy American style dive bar that hung bull horns from the walls and played honky tonk tunes despite being in the south of Berlin rather than Nashville, he was still determined to enjoy himself. The beer was good at least.

‘I don’t even know any country songs,’ he reasoned, ‘this was your fuckin idea remember.’

‘You must know one song,’ Lemon said, finally chirping up if only because the idea of seeing his brother on stage aglow with embarrassment made him giddy with excitement.

‘Do I look like a fuckin’ cowboy to you?’ Tangerine said, the vein in his forehead bulging as his brother weighed in.

‘Now that you mention it,’ Lemon said, gesturing to his brother’s moustache with amusement.

‘Do you want me to stab you?’ Tangerine grunted.

‘I’ll pick something easy I promise,’ Clementine said, hoping to steer the direction back towards the task at hand rather than letting the boys get bogged down squabbling, ‘please Tange.’

‘No,’ Tangerine said firmly, ‘I’ve already let you have your way with having us come to this fuckin’ dive as it is.’

‘Only because you had to,’ Lemon said, ‘it was one of her wishes.’

‘Yes thank you Lemon,’ Tangerine said, offering a tight smile his brother’s way though as he looked back at Clementine he found she was no longer pouting or pleading she was smiling, that infuriating, dazzling smile she had when she was about to get her own way or more importantly do something Tangerine didn’t want her to.

‘No,’ he shook his head, catching on faster than his brother who looked confused.

‘I’ve found my next one,’ she sing-songed, giggling as Lemon started laughing.

‘You’re not serious,’ he scoffed.

‘Deadly. Wish number four is for you to sing karaoke with me,’ she confirmed, making him groan which made her immediately wag a finger at him, ‘ah, ah, you know the rules. All wishes must be fulfilled as asked without protest or whining.’

‘Clem,’ Tangerine started but she was on a roll.

‘Or we can call the whole thing off and I’ll go back to-’ ‘Yes okay fine, fuck!’ he griped, running his hand over his mouth to stem his irritation. But just as she started to celebrate he pointed at her and said, ‘but you’re using them up quick and once they’re gone I don’t to hear want a fuckin’ word you hear?’

‘Loud and clear,’ she smirked as she rose from the table, swaying as the alcohol in her system rushed to her head, ‘I’m gonna go and tell the DJ we’d like to sign up. Back in a minute.’

As she sashayed away smugly he felt Lemon looking at him with a smirk on his face. Tangerine merely held a hand up to silence whatever was going to come out of the other man’s mouth, taking a long drink of his beer as he watched her talking to the DJ in his booth.

One song that’s all he had to do. One song and it was another wish over. One song and she

only had one more insane request left though as he thought about it he tried to remember why he’d agreed to this wish system in the first place. 

‘I need a drink,’ Tangerine sighed. They hadn’t even gotten off the ground yet, he could still hear the pilot doing his rigorous take off checks from the cockpit just ahead of them, but he needed something to take the edge off. He’d been edgy since they’d finished the job, adamant they needed to get the first flight out of Osaka. It was probably the best idea, after all having a hand in the demise of the White Death and his entire family was probably going to catch up with them at some point so why not give them a head start? But it wasn’t just that. He’d thought he’d lost Lemon. For good. He’d looked at his brother’s corpse and his world had collapsed in on itself making him stupid and reckless. If it hadn't been for Clementine he probably would've been dead. She had saved his life and almost gotten herself killed in the process, the bullet they’d pulled out of her thigh living proof of that. 

So yeah he was a little antsy even if she wasn’t, sprawled out on the plush couches of their private jet as she yawned, ‘get me one will you.’

‘Your legs not working are they not, love?’ he quipped intending to get back to their normal selves by bantering with her as he normally would only when he noted her bandaged up leg he felt a twinge of guilt rush through him. Clementine didn’t even seem to notice the correlation, accepting the banter at face value as she said, ‘I'd say it was the least you could do seeing as I saved your arse. Twice if my memory is correct.’

‘You say that like we’ve never saved your arse before,’ Tangerine said as he got to the bar.

‘You have to admit you would’ve been toast back there mate,’ Lemon reasoned. As they locked eyes Tangerine felt his guilt swirl deeper in the pit of his stomach, the memory of Lemon’s limp and lifeless body flashing before his eyes once more. He dropped his gaze to the range of bottles on the bar looking for something that would take that feeling away.

‘No he’s right. He’s saved me enough times,’ she said pushing herself up and hobbling over to the bar. Tangerine frowned as he watched her wince but resisted the urge to help her figuring him trying to lead her would go down like a lead balloon. Instead he opted to ask, ‘what are you doing?’

‘Making us all a drink,’ she said, finally behind the bar and nudging him out of the way with her good hip, ‘I assume you needed me to do that for you too. Or do you think you could manage that all by yourself?’

‘Very funny,’ Tangerine scowled as she giggled, grabbing a fancy bottle of scotch from the bar and handing it to him to pour. He did as he was told, though only because that was the one he’d been eyeing anyway though that only made her beam a smile as she headed back to her seat and allowed him to pour. He did so quickly, swigging a full glass before he made up three drinks and took them over to where they were sitting.

‘Aw you’ve even made it just how I like it,’ she said, taking a sip, ‘you’re learning so well.’

‘Would you pack it in?’ he grumbled as he took a seat on the other couch with Lemon.

‘Not my fault you’re so easy to wind up,’ she smiled.

‘I’m not easy to wind up,’ he retorted, ignoring Lemon’s snort as he continued, ‘you just don’t know how to shut up.’

‘Well you can always make me,’ she bargained, sitting up from where she had been lolling and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

‘Oh yeah and how the fuck do I do that?’ Tangerine said as he laid back against the seat, resting his foot on his knee as he watched her.

‘How about we make a deal?’ she said, watching him cockily as she sipped at her drink. Tangerine watched her. Her hair was up today, pulled back roughly in a clip though she’d allowed a few tendrils to fall around her face, and she was wearing a t-shirt and leggings though he suspected this was more to do with the fact she was bandaged from the thigh up, he knew that because he’d been the one to do it. Still it made her look out of place amongst them, both in crisp new suits. Not someone you'd associate with making deals, even silly little bets like this one.

‘Go on then,’ he said as if the idea bored him entirely though he could feel interest stirring inside him.

‘Okay I’ll stop teasing you if you,’ she stalled clearly thinking on her feet, ‘if you…if you be my slave for a day.’

Tangerine rolled his eyes. He didn’t know why but he’d been expecting something more serious, less childish, but at this rate she was more like Lemon when it came to teasing and games. It was only one step up from Thomas the Tank. Clementine hastened to continue, ‘half a day?’

Still nothing.

‘An hour?’ she bargained. Tangerine merely stared at her.

‘Sounds like a no to me bruv,’ Lemon chuckled as he took a sip of his drink.

‘Well I’m getting something out of it,’ she pouted.

‘How about you celebrate the fact we’re going to keep you on seeing as you’ve actually proved yourself useful and be happy with that,’ Tangerine said. Clementine smiled and placed her glass on the table in front of her.

‘You know it’s okay,’ she smiled, ‘if you’re feeling vulnerable because a woman saved your arse. It doesn’t threaten your masculinity if that’s what you're worried about. Right Lemon?’

‘Course not,’ Lemon chuckled, ‘it shows enlightenment and understanding.’

‘That's what Ladybug would say,’ Clementine giggled though she stopped as Tangerine jumped up and started walking away from them huffily, ‘where are you going?’

‘For a slash so I don’t have to listen to you twats any longer,’ he huffed.

Although he was barely out of the living area of the jet before Clementine was up and following him forcing him to stop and look at her as he questioned, ‘what are you doing?’

‘Coming with you,’ she said as if it were obvious, ‘I figured you’d need help with that too.’

‘You fuckin’-’

‘I can hold it if you want,’ she mused, smiling wider as she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks though it disappeared as he snapped, ‘alright fine! What the fuck is it going to take for you to let this drop?’

Clementine grinned.

‘Oh I don’t know,’ she said, moving to flop back onto her seat, her legs up on the dark leather of the airplane seats. The seatbelt sign had clicked on but none of them seemed bothered about adhering to its request. Tangerine was just hoping whatever she was baiting for wouldn’t take long, he really did have to use the bathroom.

‘So the slave thing is definitely off the table?’ she questioned. Tangerine said nothing because his face said what he was thinking anyway, not that Clementine paid much attention to the scowl, she was used to him by now and instead she looked to Lemon and said, ‘what do you think?’

‘Well it’s gotta be something worth your while,’ Lemon said seriously. Clementine nodded in agreement as Tangerine folded his arms and asked, ‘I’m sorry, why are you helping?’

‘Yeah I know what you mean,’ she said ignoring the brunette, ‘something simple he can do hmmm…how about wishes?’

‘Wishes?’ Tangerine scoffed, ‘do I look like a fuckin’ genie to you?’

‘Now that you mention it,’ Lemon quipped but Clementine refused to let them get steered off track as she whined, ‘oh I'm not asking you to make me a billionaire or find the love of my life am I? Just simple things.’

‘Like?’ Tangerine pressed.

‘Like I get to pick where we go for dinner,’ she said.

‘What radio station we pick,’ Lemon added, earning a nod of recognition.

‘What bar we get slaughtered at after a gig,’ she said, ‘that kind of stuff.’

‘And that’ll shut you up?’ Tangerine asked.

‘Yep,’ she grinned, ‘but you have to fulfil your end of the bargain without moaning.’

He deliberated on it for a moment looking between the pair of them, they looked like excitable children waiting to see if their dad was going to agree to take them for a happy meal, but he supposed that was better than they could've been looking. Clementine had saved him and he did want to thank her. And he supposed something silly like this was better than something far worse so with a sigh he said, ‘fine. You get your wish.’

‘Wishes,’ she corrected, ‘let's say ten.’

‘Two,’ Tangerine bartered.

‘Seven,’ she said, bouncing his offer back at him as she stood from the couch, holding her hand out for him to shake.

‘Three,’ he replied.

‘Five,’ she said. Tangerine hesitated and then shook her hand.

‘Five,’ he confirmed, ‘now can I go for a slash in peace?’

‘Of course!’ she beamed moving to sit next to Lemon as they broke into a rapid conversation about what her first wish should be. Tangerine rolled his eyes and headed to the bathroom though he couldn’t help but smile at the happiness in her voice.

Tangerine was brought back to reality as he felt a thump on his chest and looked up to find Lemon staring at him gesturing for him to join Clementine who was now standing on the small stage. The middle-aged DJ watched as he crossed the room, handing him a microphone with a curt nod before he returned to his station and announced to the room, ‘please give a warm welcome to er Tangerine and Clementine!’

There was a smattering of applause from the twenty or so people in the bar as he took to the stage. He tried not to focus on them which was fortunately easy to do because as he acclimatised himself he found the lights glaring on the stage almost blinding. He could barely see into the club, in fact the only thing he could focus on was Clementine. In her signing up she’d now procured a brown cowboy hat and microphone like his. In her blue sundress and boots she almost looked the part which made him feel stiffer in his slackened suit. She didn’t seem to care what he looked like though, pulling him closer towards her by the arm as the music started to play so that he could see the small screen set up in front of them which displayed the words.

YOU LOOK LIKE YOU LOVE ME BY

MALE BLUE/FEMALE PINK was all that was displayed across the small screen as the intro played. To his disbelief Tangerine could feel his heart start to beat faster in his chest. How was it he could stare down the barrel of a gun and not flinch and yet karaoke had his palms sweating? He wanted to duck out even leaning in and asking, ‘am I supposed to know this?’ in the hopes that she’d be merciful due to his ignorance.

Unfortunately though she didn’t, simply offering him a reassuring smile and a pat on the bicep as she said, ‘you will besides that’s what the words are for.’

‘Don’t need to know a tune then?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘It's only one verse and it’s mostly talking I promise,’ she said reassuringly as her words started to load.

Fortunately the first verse was all cast in pink and he watched as she started to sing or rather, speak with a tune. She was right, he had heard the song before, it was always playing from her phone whilst she scrolled mindlessly through TikTok in the back seat. Whilst Lemon unwound by playing video games and he by going for a run she found endless banal internet videos a source of relaxation. Of course he didn’t begrudge her way of coping, it was just that it often started the moment they were back in the car which meant he was forced to hear it and it had led to no end of squabbles between the pair.

So I walked right up, And I pulled him to the side, I handed him a beer and looked him right in the eye, And I said, ‘Baby, I think you're gonna wanna hear this.’ Then I told him. 

She was watching him now no doubt hoping he'd clicked on to why she'd picked the song by

the way she was grinning. Tangerine rolled his eyes. 

‘Excuse me, you look like you love me,’ she sang, ‘you look like you want me to want you to come on home.’

The song was cheesy, country and not his style at all but he couldn’t help but smile at the way she was beaming. And he supposed she was right; his part was minimal and didn’t involve much singing so he had to give her credit even if he was shaky and uncertain as he rhymed off the next verse.

By the time they were coming to the close he even ventured to sing some of the chorus with her, earning a hoot from Lemon somewhere he couldn’t see. Granted he let her experiment with the final run which procured her an enthusiastic round of applause which she lapped up, pulling her sundress from her hips so that she could curtsey. Tangerine merely nodded in recognition and got himself off stage as quickly as he could but as he got to his table he felt her swinging off his neck. 

‘Well done Tange!’ she cheered, moving herself to his side but keeping her arm around him as she looked up at him with a grin.

‘Well done yourself,’ he chuckled, slipping his arm around her waist to steady her, the alcohol and the high making her sway, ‘right set of pipes on ya who knew.’

‘Well that’s why we have to try new things isn’t it,’ she grinned, ‘right Lemon?’

‘Oh for sure!’ he beamed, ‘though you know I'm not going to let you have all the glory right?’

‘You and me are already signed up,’ Clementine vowed.

‘You think you can top it bruv?’ Tangerine asked.

‘With my eyes closed,’ Lemon snorted, ‘what did you pick Clem?’

‘Islands in the Stream of course,’ she said as if he was ludicrous to think anything else, ‘we should be up next.’

‘Excellent, in that case let me nip to the toilet,’ Lemon said downing his drink before he headed towards the bathrooms. Tangerine moved to let him past, knocking into Clementine who grabbed onto his shirt to steady herself. 

‘You really did good,’ she smiled, deep blue eyes looking into his own. Tangerine felt his heart thump again.

‘You too,’ he agreed.

‘Oh yeah fancy round two?’ she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

‘Don’t push it,’ he said, rolling his eyes as he knocked her cowboy hat off her head in jest.

Tangerine never did get back on the stage that night. One because he was sure his heart wouldn’t take the anxiety of it but mainly because the drunker they got the more Lemon and Clementine took to the stage until eventually they were asked, or told, to leave the premises stating they were hogging the mics and needed to let others have a go. It was just as well as by the time they got back to the hotel the pair of them were barely standing, allowing Tangerine, who was just as drunk but somehow able to hold his own, to shepherd them up to their rooms.

He’d barely steered Lemon into their shared room before he was flopping down on the bed fully dressed, already snoring as Tangerine removed his shoes. By the time he’d finished he realised he’d lost track of his other ward and found her flopped on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

‘Alright you let's get you to your room,’ he said as he peeled off his suit jacket and threw it on the back of the desk chair. Clementine looked up as she heard him speak before she yawned and said, ‘actually I'm alright here.’

‘Oh no’,’ he said, moving to pull her up by one arm, ‘not a chance, come on.’

‘Do I have to?’ she whined though she allowed herself to be manhandled off the bed, his hands finding her shoulders a moment later as he steered her through the hotel room and out the door until she was standing at the door of the room opposite.

Once outside she moved her bag from where it was draped across her body and stuck her hand in, no doubt fishing around for the hotel key. Tangerine tapped his foot as he waited. He supposed he could have just left her to let herself in but given the way she was swaying on the spot he didn’t want to risk coming out in the morning and finding her curled up against the dark wood of his hotel door.

‘You know you were really good on karaoke tonight,’ she said as she rooted through the small black bag. Tangerine was going to reply something snippy but as she locked her hand around the key she looked up at him and her face was earnest, a smile on her face as she offered the compliment.

‘I didn’t do much,’ he said suddenly feeling bashful, ‘it was mostly you.’

‘Yeah but you didn’t have to do it,’ she said as she turned to slot her key in the door.

‘Thought your wishes were mandatory,’ he ribbed.

‘Oh they are,’ she giggled, though once again when she looked at him there was something behind her expression he couldn’t place, a sincerity he never normally attributed to their relationship. It grew deeper as she dropped her voice, as if offering him a secret as she said, ‘but you were a good sport. I mean you didn’t have to agree…you didn’t have to let me join the pair of you but you did and…well I've been enjoying it.’

‘Me too,’ he admitted, watching as her smile grew, ‘if you tell Lemon I’ll deny it.’

‘Noted,’ she giggled.

Tangerine shifted. He didn’t know what it was, her words or the way she was looking at him but he wanted to offer his own sentiments, one without joking. After all even if he had been bending over backwards to fulfil her wishes he hadn’t thanked her yet not properly and so he said, ‘but I am happy you’re with us…in fact I’m grateful you were I would’ve been fucked if we were on that train alone.’ 

As he said that her face flickered with worry and she dropped her gaze so that he couldn’t see her face as she said, ‘can I tell you something?’

‘Course,’ he said quietly.

‘I was scared you were gonna die,’ she admitted. Her eyes were glassy when she finally looked up at her, gnawing on her lip before she said, ‘so when I saved you I wasn’t really thinking…I just knew I didn’t want to lose you and…’

Her breath hitched as she got to the middle of her sentence, taking whatever worries she’d been mulling over from being spoken into existence as she neared the verge of tears. Tangerine was sure it was just the booze talking but he felt the instinct to comfort her anyway, pulling her in for a hug as he said, ‘ey, I'm alright. I’m here aren’t I?’

Tangerine stroked her hair soothingly waiting for the tears to subside which they did after a moment or so though they left her eyes reddened as she pulled back and wiped at her nose, mumbling, ‘m’sorry.’

‘You okay?’ he asked, placing his hand on her cheek.

‘I’m fine,’ she nodded, ‘I just…I don’t know what I'd do without you.’

‘And Lemon?’ he asked, the way she’d singled him out making him feel as if he was under that spotlight again.

‘Tange,’ she said quietly as if he was missing the point.

Tangerine stared at her, those riveting blue eyes, and all of sudden he could feel his heart beating like it had been on stage. Only this had nothing to do with stage fright. This was due to the fact the words she spoke were truer than anything he'd ever heard. Because the truth was he didn’t know what he'd do without her either. She had become part of his family, part of him without him even realising.  Of course he loved Lemon and he had assumed that the love he had for her was the same but now, staring into her soul he felt like he’d been missing the point.

As if she’d truly had to walk right up to him and spelled out how he felt for her for him to get it.

‘Clem, I, I don’t know how to do this,’ he said hesitantly. After all, what if he had misread his feelings? What if he didn’t feel the way he thought he did and they did something they regretted. She was a good asset and he wouldn't want to lose her.

‘I do,’ she said, moving to wrap her arms around his neck as she pulled him down to kiss her.

His hands moved to her waist, holding her as she pulled him towards her and kissed him with a ferocity he didn’t know he’d been missing. It was like an explosion going off not only as sparks cascaded through his mind but because of how everything seemed to slot into place, their teasing, tension, care and passion blending into one perfect moment.

He was breathless and dazed when he pulled back, all of it taking him by surprise, and yet he still managed to smile as he found her grinning at him. He watched as she moved from his grasp, pushing her bedroom door open before she turned around and said, ‘okay, I’ve decided.’ ‘Decided?’ he asked, still struggling to make his brain work

‘What my last wish is,’ she said, offering a hand out for him to take, ‘wanna find out?’

‘Oh definitely,’ Tangerine said, moving into the room at rapid speed and kicking the door firmly shut behind him.

[kyoghurts]

hh-hi hi, i've been scrawling the mashle x reader tags all day, and i'm very desperate to see someone write anything for my gorgeous wife magarette macaron ;v; preferably fem-reader. i just think about her entry in the fanbook alot about how she'd like someone preferably stronger than her, and i'd just imagine a student who deeply respects and admires her who's motivated to improve their magical ability and their inclination for the arts (painting, dance, music etc, it might even be part of their magic ehe, something that'd compliment margarette's sound magic <3) to try and catch her eye. my apologies if it's too specific! i understand female/nb characters in the mashle fandom aren't exactly the apple of many writers' eyes, and i hope your studies are going well ;u; i would just like to see some content of my favourite character. thank you!

LOVE. oil on canvas

content ♡ prns used for margarette in this fic are they/them. gn reader. fluff. established relationship. not proofread. half assed poetry writing. gazing each at each other with lots of descriptive scenes and not many dialogues. wrote this while having writers block :( apologies

notes ♡ MARGARETTE MACARON THE NONBINARY EVER <3 sorry your request took so long :( the first few parts were written 2 months ago and left there until i could not pick out details from the outline i made, so i had to modify a bit until i visualise it properly. div creds to cafekitsune!

there'd have at least an answer to every call of your heartbeats each time margarette macaron comes to slip its way into your thoughts, the sound of their chuckles or the shape of their grin, the swift catch of eye as you bump into them at random intervals, the occasional quips and teases when chances arrive. you long to find an answer to your heart hammering inside your chest, you want this organ to quell itself because if this keeps up, you might as well just die from a heart-attack.

but even when you get the gist of your feelings, the answer doesn't come to you in details smaller than the canvas of a larger size than what you're used to. the big picture is there, but it lacks...something. and you don't know what it is.

(why you admire them so much to the extent of soaring high of inspirations. like a drug that streams in the bloodstream subtle but persistent, an addiction in a good way. each interaction is recalled even more vividly than the last. it’s enough to drive you insane.)

(why, that’d you even go as far as to take it upon yourself to scramble for ways to grab their attention. you don’t.. want to admit it, but perhaps a part of you is so driven to win this once-in-a-lifetime art contest because you want margarette to finally see you. in the same way you see them)

(and for reasons… you can’t bring yourself to conclude)

you’re standing in front of your piece like a man slowly decaying, a dejected look smothered all over your face, accompanied by splotches of paint and dirt. you probably look like shit, but even that thought doesn’t bring you to feel anything.

days—weeks of letting your emotions snowball into a flurry of frustration, anxiety, and starving ambition until it crashes against a wall, tall and sturdy, completely shutting you down. you’re spent. and now your mind inevitably falls back into a place you know so much and not.

your piece, although praised by many of your peers, you can’t seem to bring the same enthusiasm to yourself. yes, the message is clear, the artistry is well done, and yet… it lacks a detail so precise you can never capture whole. a fleeting dream in wide waking eyes, it flashes through your vision and yet can never be caught in the paint and tremblings hands that you have.

a missing part. a body without a heart, leaving a hollow in the left of the sternum, and between its lungs.

you’re about to heave a sigh of resignation when footsteps approach you, clean and smooth traces that you’ve heard and know so much, a calm stride despite everything.

margarette calls out to you, familiarity in their lips, honey-soaked tongue and well-poised and its sending you into a state of shock, tongue tied. why are they here? heart on your throat, eyes blown like a deer caught in a headlight. they smile, though different than politeness they often express, it’s curves at the end tells a more softer story. a gentle stroke of touch.

they look concerned, so to speak.

“it’s late out, (name).” they tell you, and you have to slowly gaze at the clock across the room and wake up from your daze, look at the windows to see midnight blues greet you in a gentle reminder. “why are you still here?”

“i only have a week to finish this…” you motion towards your canvas, somehow you can’t find the word to call it an artwork. not to margarette of all people.

“it’s lovely, dear” you purse your lips, looking down instead of accepting their words of praise head on, as if you don’t trust any of it, like how you don’t trust yourself.

“hmm, i do have some suggestions, take it as a grain of salt.”

you lift your head so suddenly it gives you a fright. “really?”

margarette’s attention doesn’t waver, they gaze your artwork with scrutiny, half lidded and in deep thought.

for some reason, you feel vulnerable with this. like they’re not just staring at your piece, they’re including you, too. it’s your work, after all, and from the way they tilt their head and eyes not leaving every single detail, it feels as though they’re looking through the artist’s intention— what’s beyond the efforts of the craft that most people always want to look past.

for some reason, it scares you how they’re so quiet, how close they are next to you right now. and though you don’t want to admit it, but the more you stare at margarette, the more clearer their features become. you wonder what it would feel like to trace the musical note marks traveling through the eyes to their cheekbones, how dangerous it must be if you swipe your thumb against their lips as you smudge the dark color that so attracts you. how it would all feel if you cup their face and scrutinise you instead. to memorize you the same way you’ve been studying art itself.

when they finally speak, a flood of ideas break through the dam. they tell you it’s mostly minor details, but to you, it means everything. and you’re not even exaggerating it, art has been your call, even your personal magic speaks for itself, and you want to let margarette know how much this means to you. how much of a burden has been lifted off your shoulders, in just an instant.

“your work inspires me.” they chuckle, faint and airy and it’s making you blush. “i hear a beautiful sound just by gazing at it.”

they turn to you, a smile on their lips.

you don’t want to tear your gaze, you say, “if my work sings to your soul, then…its fulfilled its purpose.”

“it has, my dear.” they might have noticed something on your face, because they start sifting underneath their robe, and pulls out a cloth. “you have paint all over you.”

“oh where-”

“here.” they lift your chin, wiping the side of your face with their other hand, and they take their time doing so. their movements delicate and gentle, your eyes on them the whole time, completely breathless.

(with the lights casting shadows across your face, twilight saying hello in your window, and the person you so admire from a place raw within a heart that feels hollow and not, empty but full and heavy, you want to capture this particular moment with this particular person in a time that’s suspended and remembered.)

(there are pieces that simply evoke too many emotions inside your ribcage, but this piece could actually lead you to an answer you’ve been putting on hold for so long.)

(the answer is simple, actually, you could laugh at yourself for this.)

you hadn’t realised that you did laugh, margarette stops from wiping and watches you in surprised amusement, the softness in their expression stirs your stomach in such a familiar way as you feel your face starting to burn. “sorry,” you say in between chuckles, “that was sudden.”

after a while of small talks and discussions towards your artwork, you finally call it a night. margarette walks you to your dorm, and you can’t miss the way they wave at you and mutter goodnight as you close your door.

you’re sure your going to dream about this for days without end.

you didn’t expect for your work to be displayed in such a grand way, with golden frames and a title plate situated under the piece. honestly, you’d think this is another dream questionable enough that you’re starting to battle reality, like right now.

you think you’re going to wake up soon and forget that day they announced your name as the first placer and that people literally hurdled towards you in utter shock and excitement, screaming in your ear until it bleeds from the “congratulations!!” to “you slayed like picasso on a caffeine high!” and “you've officially made the rest of us look like we're finger-painting with our toes. congrats on the epic win!” and more out of pocket forms of praise that you don’t want to hear any further.

you want to wake up that is until they stood on the hall to where your artwork was displayed, until they see the small plate with the title written in a small, minimalist text.

as you approach margarette anxiously, you soon find yourself not needing to be so tense. you watch as they scan your piece similar to that night, subtly taking each and every detail with their whole, undivided attention.

"congratulations," they say, their voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "you've captured something truly special here.”

this time, you smile with pride and gratitude. you don’t have to say anything for when they ask for your hand and they kiss your knuckles so delicate you feel elated, so over the moon that the answer to your heartbeats has been settled like stilled ocean. no longer in hunger for a call, no storms raging inside your poetic little heart.

you take one good look at your piece before margarette leads you to- well, this is most definitely not a dream, but you’re sure they ask you if you’re free at the moment, asking to join them for lunch.

your bright, excited ‘i’d love to!’ doesn’t leave any doubts, in fact, margarette can only squeeze your hand in response. as if saying they reciprocate how you feel, and that the missing piece has always been there for you all along.

© kyoghurts ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[emilykaldwen]

"Blocking isn't some personal insult. Its a method of saying; hey, we clearly shouldn't interact, so I'm gonna build this soundproof wall between us to make sure we can't."

Except that's not what the people you associate with do and encourage you and others to do by extension. I really liked your writing, but it's disappointing to see the type of people you've chosen to buddy up to, who use blocking as a way to weaponize social media and make pariahs out of certain people in the fandom who don't bow to their whims. I hope they don't burn you the way they've burned so many others, but with their track record, I'm not holding my breath.

Okay let's do this. I'm tired. I would like to go back to sleep. Get off my lawn, etc etc.

I have been dealing with anons harassing me since I started posting HotD stuff back during the Season 1 show run. I got hateful anons saying terrible things about Abby back in December. When I interacted with NONE of the people that I currently interact with today. This escalated when I properly began posting Maiden in the summer of last year, and then escalated in the fall. After receiving some truly foul anons in regards to my writing, my OC, and my work, including one telling me to kill myself, I shut anons off. Because what the actual fuck. I have been on the internet for 25 fucking years and this is the first time I have EVER dealt with such bullshit.

Before these anons ramped up, I, like many people, blocked. A lot. I blocked mostly people thirst reblogging stuff about the actors that would cross my dash or in the tags because it made me uncomfortable, I didn't want to see it. I blocked a lot of blogs that were posting these weird reader x canon character thirst lists that I just found bizarre and didn't want to see scrolling through a character tag. That, friends, is what the block button is for. I block people with takes that I disagree with as well, I'm someone whose pretty liberal with my block button. I block things I don't want to see on my dash. It's honestly as simple as that.

No one has fucking told me to block anyone. I am actually deeply fucking insulted that I, a grown ass adult who is nearly forty, needs to be told to block someone/someones when people are setting up blogs called 'ihateemilykaldwens' and trying to terrorize me, and my friends and mutuals, and then try to frame another one of my mutuals for being responsible for it in the process. I only just recently started speaking with "the individuals" I've chosen to associate with long after I have blocked the people you're saying are being bullied.

And if this is about my post the other day about the culture I see: It was never actually about anyone specific, it was genuinely trends I have seen cross my dash as well as discussions with friends in other fandoms. That's all. If someone(s) thought I was talking about them specifically: Dude, IDK what to tell you. That's a you problem.

So let's stop playing coy. I'm tired of it.

THIS. IS. A SMALL. BLOG. I do not pass a block list around and TELL people or encourage them to block them, nor have I ever have it done to me. And even IF someone said 'omg you should block all these people' uh, no? I have free will and can make my own judgements?

Anon, if this situation is upsetting to you, either come off anon in the DMs and talk to me, or you are welcome to unfollow me. I don't care, and I mean that in the nicest possible way.

Because the people I've blocked on my own make others feel the way you're claiming they make you feel.

Because we all know who everyone is talking about. And I'm done. This is 12 year old behavior and I don't interact with minors.

I'm going back to bed. Whatever is in the fucking water, I want none of it.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 2

"It didn’t have to be this way.” / Scream / Double Cross / Made to Watch

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost | <- Previous Part | Next Part ->

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 900

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv

CW: mentioned death, gunshot wounds, deception, fire powers, swearing, revenge, death, whumper turned whumpee

A/N: Happy Sunday! Per popular demand, I’m continuing my Hero x Villain series, formerly "completed" back in December.

To clear up potential confusion: the character referred to as Whumper in this part is not the same as the Whumper in part 1 (because that one’s dead, and referred to as “Teleporter” in this part). This one’s the “hero” with fire powers who burned Hero during training, mentioned in part 2.

----------

Whumper adjusted the mask on their face for perhaps the fifth time in as many minutes as they stared out over the street below. They perched on the edge of a building, as they had for some time, waiting for the tech guy to find them something to burn. A stolen car, an attempted home invasion, a villain resurfacing… whatever it was, Whumper didn’t care. Anything was better than sitting and waiting.

“Still nothing?” They asked softly.

“Not since you asked me thirty seconds ago!” Techie snapped in their ear, the clicking sounds of their fingers on the keyboard a constant companion to their words. “The city’s been uncharacteristically quiet.”

Whumper hummed softly in thought. “That’s what Shapeshifter said about last night. And Sound Gun the night before that. Seems that after Teleporter was killed, everyone went to ground.”

Techie said nothing. The only sound on their end was the clattering of the keys. Whumper suspected what they were thinking, though. The last any of them knew, Hero had been seriously injured during their escape. Teleporter had gone after them, the quickest to get them back.

Yet Teleporter was dead.

And Hero’s body was yet to be found.

They’d covered their tracks well. According to Shapeshifter, Hero had left no trace around where Teleporter’s body was found. No scent, no blood, no fingerprints. No way to determine if it had been Hero or just some villain who’d managed to get the jump on Teleporter.

The cause of death was determined to have been blood loss from bullet wounds. Anyone could wield a gun, even a civilian.

But Whumper was sure it had to be Hero. They only couldn’t figure out how.

They reached up to adjust their mask again, but a sound nearby caught their attention. A scream. 

Finally.

“Got something!” They reported, rising and leaping off the edge of the building, blasting fire from their hands to slow their descent until they touched the ground. The sidewalk was left charred, but it would wash off in the next rainstorm. Whumper took off running towards the scream as Techie acknowledged their report.

“D’you need backup?”

Whumper smirked. “Doubt it. But call an ambulance on my location just to be safe. Not for me, of course.”

Techie sighed. “...done.”

Whumper rolled their eyes. They would have to talk with them about judging their teammates’ methods. Better to ensure the criminals would never step out of line again than to deal with a relapsed convict.

Up ahead, the victim screamed again. Whumper made a hard left into an alley, following their mental estimation of the voice’s location.

Another scream. Almost there. Whumper turned into a smaller alley branching off the main one and paused, confused.

The alley was empty.

Huh?

Whumper prowled forward, listening intently. By all accounts, the victim and their attacker should be here. So where were they?

Another scream, identical to the first three, made Whumper almost jump out of their skin from its closeness. It sounded like it was coming from right next to them, but they were alone. Suspicion growing, Whumper kicked aside some of the trash against the alley wall. Their foot collided with a hard, blocky object, and their eyes widened.

A… walkie-talkie?

A gunshot echoed throughout the narrow alley. Pain exploded in Whumper’s leg, pulsing and throbbing and aching. They cried out and stumbled, looking around wildly as warm blood gushed down the injured limb and pooled on the ground.

Whumper’s eyes fell on a silhouette standing at the mouth of the alley. “You!” They snarled, limping towards them despite the way their leg screamed at them to stop. Fire ignited in their hands, matching the red-hot pain that coursed across their nerves.

Villain smirked, gun pointed right at Whumper’s heart. “That’s right. Me.”

“You think this is some sort of joke?” Whumper shouted as they lobbed a fireball at their assailant.

Villain dodged easily, backing out into the wider alley. Whumper threw another ball of fire and staggered after them. They couldn’t keep up much longer, not with the leg wound and with every spark sapping more and more of their energy.

Or maybe… maybe that was also the leg wound.

“Are you feeling a little dizzy from the blood loss?” Villain taunted.

Whumper snarled and almost whipped up another fireball to throw, but common sense made them stop and check their comm. “Techie, are you getting this?”

Static.

Fuck.

“Yeah…” Villain mused, shrugging, “I jammed your comm. Can’t have you bringing in the cavalry.”

“You… fucking… cheater!!” Whumper screamed, sending as big of a fireball as they could make screaming down the alleyway. The flames momentarily obscured their vision, but when the fireball dissipated, Villain was still there, the same infernal smile on their face.

“How?!” Whumper demanded.

Villain shook their head. “It didn’t have to be this way, y’know.”

Another explosion of fire. Whumper fell to their knees, crying out as the wound in their leg reasserted its presence. The world spun around them, and suddenly Villain was right in front of them, gun only inches away from Whumper’s forehead.

“You could’ve been a decent person. You had so many chances.”

Whumper breathed heavily, trying to form another fireball but only succeeding at making their fatigue multiply. “A kind person… can’t protect the city… like we do....”

The smile disappeared from Villain’s face without a trace, as if it was never there. “You don’t deserve the mantle you’ve been given.”

Whumper’s heart skipped a beat as Villain’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“This is for Hero.”

Bang.

[crowleying]

Will get us all killed | m!reader

Date: 29.10.2022

Pairing:  Tommy Shelby x m!reader

Reader’s pronouns: he/him

Words: 3.318

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Characters: m!reader, Tommy Shelby, Polly Gray, Ada Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Esme Shelby

Genre: Romance

Length: Oneshot

Warnings: Mention of injury (nothing descriptive), slightly sexual content (there is an erection mentioned but nothing more), angst with a happy ending

Requested: No

Prompts: No

Summary: Tommy's plan is stupid. It gets John injured and you angry. Your hate for each other gets out of hand.

A/N: English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistake, and I would love to know what you think about it. If you like my works, please like and reblog them. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I posted a List of prompts, so check it out! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my works.

IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, PLEASE REBLOG THEM

Masterlist

Ao3

It wasn't that you weren't listening. You were, which is exactly why you were furious. Tommy had called yet another family meeting to explain one of his absurd plans. They usually didn't make any sense, mainly because he kept most things for himself. The others executed blindly everything he asked, which often got them to get shot at, which, okay, fine, probably was partly their fault because they were quite stupid, and you thought that with all the love. You really cared for John and Arthur.  You, however, couldn't help but point out all the plans' flaws. Tommy hated you for that, but it wasn't your fault if his stupid plans weren't foolproof. You were sure Tommy would have kicked you out of the family meetings, and even from the Peaky Blinders if he could, but you had Polly's protection. She had raised you as her son, taking you in when your mother, her best friend, died. You had grown up with the Shelbys, and while you got along with everyone, you just couldn't see Tommy without wanting to punch him. It hadn't always been like that, though. Tommy was the most brilliant of the family, with Ada being a close second, so he wasn't used to having people rival his intelligence before meeting you. At first, you had tried to be his friend, since he seemed to be the one who was more like you, but he had pushed you away, and after a while, you had stopped trying. Instead, you got really close to John and Ada.

When Tommy finished explaining his plan, the others slipped out of the door, glancing your way. You were still leaning with your back against the wall. Your arms were crossed in front of your chest, and you were burning holes into Tommy's face with your gaze. John snorted, amused at your antics, and exchanged a look with Arthur, who chuckled and patted your shoulder.

"I know a few gipsy curses if you need them," Esme whispered passing by on her way to the door. It made you smile, but it didn't last long. It soon disappeared when Tommy's icy eyes met yours.

"Don't kill each other. We need you both," Ada said as she was leaving. Her tone betrayed the fact that she didn't really believe you would ever come close to that.

Polly was the last one to leave. Before closing the door, she looked at you, trying to tell you just with her gaze to go easy on Tommy. You ignored it.

"Close the door, Pol," Tommy said without turning to her or taking his eyes away from you. She did so, leaving the two of you alone.

Tommy raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, mirroring your stance. "So?"

"So you keep underestimating threats and you keep important information to yourself." You pushed away from the wall and took a couple of steps towards the table between you and Tommy. "And this plan won't fucking work because that man knows Arthur. He knows he is your brother," you explained waving your hands around animatedly.

"It will be fine."

"Because you are so fucking brilliant, right?" you spat.

He took a cigarette from his silver case. He stroked it against his plump lips, then placed it between them in that way that irritated you so much. He offered you one too.

You ignored the offering. Instead, you went around the table, stopping mere inches from his face. "If someone gets hurt, I will personally hurt you, Thomas," you said, punctuating the words and poking his firm chest with your finger before storming out. Tommy smiled to himself. He loved riling you up.

As you stepped out of the room, people scrambled around, avoiding your gaze, almost as if they had been eavesdropping on the conversation and didn't want you to notice. You decided you didn't care and went to your office to get back to work. On your way there, Ada approached you.

"What happened?" she asked, walking by your side.

"Your brother is an idiot and will get us all killed, that's what happened." You walked into your office and she followed.

"You are the only one thinking that, you know that, right?"

"Apparently I'm the only one with some fucking sense here." You sat at your desk and took a cigarette from the case you had left there. You placed it between your lips and reached for the matches.

She closed the door behind her and walked up to your desk.

"You are the only one who made the point of his life to go against every word Tommy speaks," she corrected.

You arched your eyebrows and lit your cigarette.

"Not my fault he is a bloody idiot." You released the smoke upwards.

She shook her head smiling. "The day you get over this hate of yours, you'll see what we all see."

"And what is it that you see, Ada?"

She crossed her arms. She had no intention of telling you, clearly. "You two are so similar."

"No, we are not," you replied, with more heat than necessary.

She smiled triumphantly. "We all see through your little act," she sing-songed heading to the door.

You got up hastily.

"What are you talking about? Ada, I'm not done talking with you." Before you could go around your desk, she was already out of the door. "Come back here, Ada!" You had all intentions of following her, but one of the men walked in to show you one of the books.

"Fucking Shelbys," you grumbled, making the man chuckle.

You would deal with Ada later.

Later never came, because Thomas' stupid plan had gone to hell not even half an hour in. The man had recognized Arthur as soon as he had seen him, as you had said, and had opened fire on him and John. A bullet had grazed Arthur's arm. He would be fine. John, however, hadn't been so lucky. Before you could put a bullet in that bastard's head, he had hit John in his left shoulder, too close to his heart for your liking. Now he was laying in a hospital bed. The doctor had said that he would be fine, but you were fuming. Polly and Arthur nervously watched you pace back and forth next to your best friend's bed. They had tried to calm you down, but had stopped after you had yelled at Arthur. You were halfway through Arthur's cigarettes. You had already finished yours, but they hadn't helped calm your nerves.

Tommy stormed into the room, Ada hot on his heels. Polly and Arthur stood straighter, ready to intervene. You turned to look at him and quickly killed the cigarette in the ashtray.

"Tommy, what the fuck!" Ada tried to hold him back by his arm, but to no avail.

"What the fuck did you do?" he yelled to your face.

You clenched your fist and before Tommy knew it, you had punched him.

"I tried to save our asses, you fucking cunt!" you snarled through your teeth.

He grabbed the collar of your jacket and you took hold of the front of his shirt.

"You killed that man and fucked up every chance we had. That's what you did," he replied through his teeth.

Arthur and Polly stepped in just as a nurse rushed in, asking you to leave.

"I told you this would happen and you didn't listen because you are oh so fucking clever, and now my best friend is in that bed because of you."

Polly gently put a hand on your shoulder, but you kept glaring at Tommy.

"Alright, boys, you better take this outside."

Her other hand rested on one of Tommy's. He let you go and slowly you did too.

He nodded to the door and turned to leave. You followed him out and didn't register the relief that flooded the room the moment you left.

Tommy walked down the hall, looking for an empty room. He finally found one and pushed the door open to let you in. You spared him a glare as you walked him. He followed and closed the door.

You crossed your arms and turned to look at him, waiting for him to talk. You had said everything you needed to already.

"You know this is a dangerous business and Arthur and John know too. You all know there are risks. You can't go around killing every person I need, no matter how much of a dick they are."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed shaking your head. You pointed the finger at him.

"This is your fault. This wouldn't have happened if you just had listened to me! But you never fucking do. And I'm so tired of your bullshit. I know you never liked me because I am more intelligent than you but, for fucks sake, get over it," you hissed in his face.

He seemed taken aback by your words. When he didn't reply, you rolled your eyes and walked away from him.

"You're wrong."

You scoffed. "Of course."

"No, I mean-"

"I know exactly what you mean. Because you are the one who is always fucking right. The only one with a brain and all that. Isn't that right, Tommy?" You spat out the words like venom.

You heard him cover the distance between you with a few steps, and when you turned back to him, you didn't expect him to be so close.

"It's not what you think it is," he murmured. How could he be so collected when you just wanted to punch him again?

"I know exactly what it is, Thomas!"

"No, you don't."

"Fuck you."

He licked his lips, and you knew he was about to talk again, but you wouldn't let him.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you, Thomas Shelby. Your brother is laying on that bed with a bullet in him and you-"

"They already took it out," he corrected offhandedly.

And you just couldn't help it. You pushed him full force with both hands. He bumped into the wall behind him. You walked up to him and took him by the collar of his jacket.

Instead of pushing you away, Tommy grabbed your hips and pushed them forward, against him. You were confused for a brief moment before you felt his erection pressing against your leg. You looked down to where your bodies met and then up at him.

"Tommy..."

"You're wrong."

Before you could react to his words, he pulled you into a heated kiss. You were paralyzed for a moment before you melted into it. Your body relaxed against his as you kissed him back. His lips were as soft as they looked. You would never admit to anyone that you had wondered how they would feel on yours every time he stroked a cigarette on them or licked them, but you had. It seemed like his lips were a match that had put your stomach on fire. Your desire to punch him had faded away. The kiss you were sharing and your bodies touching was all that mattered. Until the door opened and you pulled away as fast as lightning.

A nurse entered with fresh sheets in her arms and looked at you confused, then she spotted Tommy.

"I'm very sorry, Mr Shelby, I didn't know you were here. I'll leave you alone."

You fixed your suit. "No need to, we were done," you assured, and without waiting for a reply, you passed by her and walked out the door without sparing Thomas a glance. His eyes followed you until you disappeared, and then he cleared his throat and fixed his suit before leaving with a whispered "have a nice day" to the nurse.

When he walked out, you were nowhere to be seen. He went back to John's room, but you weren't there either.

It took him almost two days to realize you were avoiding him. He had been busy fixing the mess, and Polly said you were spending all your time by John's bed, which was to be expected. Except for the fact that when he went to the hospital the evening after the incident, you weren't there. He figured you had gone home to change and rest now that John was awake and his life wasn't at risk anymore.

When you didn't show up for dinner as always, he just thought you were too tired.

That night he fell asleep to the memory of your lips on his and for once his dreams weren't filled with the noise of the shovels but with your voice whispering his name.

The morning after, you weren't at the shop. That was weird, you were always the first to arrive.

By midday, he had been on the receiving end of so many of Ada and Esme's glares, he decided he needed a break.

He visited John, hoping to find you there, but once again you weren't.

He had thought Ada and Esme's looks were because they deemed him to be the cause of John's injury, but he changed his mind later that afternoon when Polly walked into his office like a woman with a mission.

"You two need to talk."

He glanced at her before his eyes went back to the papers he was reading. "I already talked with John."

"It's not John I'm talking about."

That grabbed his attention. "What are you talking about?" he asked, forgetting about the papers for a minute.

"Fix whatever mess you have caused, Thomas." She walked out without waiting for his reply.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. So you were avoiding him because of what had happened.

He decided not to listen to Polly, so maybe you were right when you said he never listened. He would give you some time. Maybe you just needed to come to terms with what had happened between the two of you.

You didn't come to work the day after, even though all the paperwork that had been on your desk the day before had been done. Tommy wasn't surprised. You were a workaholic just like him. You probably had just moved your office to your house.

Family meetings were weird without you glaring at him, interrupting, huffing and insulting him under your breath. Ada and Esme's looks weren't as fun.

"What are you waiting for, Thomas?" Polly questioned after the others had left the meeting.

"I'll talk to him," he assured.

That same night, he grabbed the dinner Polly had put aside for you and set out to come to visit you.

You had told Polly times and times again that you were fully capable of taking care of yourself and that she didn't need to cook for you, but there was no saying no to Polly Gray. She had been sending you food through Ada or Esme every evening you hadn't shown up for dinner with the family at hers. She hadn't asked anything, but she was Polly Gray. She didn't need to ask. She just knew things and she knew something had happened between you and Tommy.

You weren't surprised when you heard a knock at your door.

"Coming," you yelled as you made your way to the door.

"Finally, I'm star-" you cut yourself off midsentence when you saw Tommy.

"Tommy... What are you doing here?"

He handed you the plate. "Brought you dinner. Thought it was time for us to talk."

You sighed and nodded, inviting him in. He stepped in and you closed the door behind him. You didn't remember him ever visiting you before.

You passed by him and went to the kitchen, followed by him. "You don't mind if I eat while you talk?"

He took off his coat he abandoned on the back of a chair and his cap throwing it on the table before he sat down. "Please."

You sat down on the opposite end of the table with the dish in front of you and started eating.

Tommy took his time to light a cigarette.

"You've been avoiding me."

You didn't say anything. You couldn't really deny that.

"Why?" he asked when you didn't reply.

You scoffed. "What was I supposed to do? I tried to figure out why you would do something like that and came up with nothing. I thought you might have wanted to get me caught but then they-"

"Stop thinking I hate you."

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Why would I? It's not exactly like you ever proved me wrong."

"I kissed you."

"Which you might have done for some ulterior motive. Did you forget I know you, Tommy? You always have some kind of hidden agenda."

He took a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes were fixed on you as if he was analysing you.

"There was no hidden agenda. I've been wanting to kiss you since... forever," he admitted softly.

You snorted. "You hate everything I do. I'm always in your way, have been since we were kids."

Tommy shook his head. "Yeah, I wasn't fond of you when we were kids, but things change." He leaned forward and you looked at him, the food now forgotten. "I don't hate anything you do. On the contrary, I love it. You are the only one who stands his ground with me and speaks up against me and points out all the flaws in my plans because you're not only clever but also very observant. How could I hate it when it's so hot?"

You shook your head, smiling bitterly. "Please. Don't play with me. You've had your fun."

"I'm not playing. I've been waiting for this for ages."

"Why didn't you say anything, then?"

"I had a lot of reasons to believe you didn't like me," he said matter-of-factly, "and you had your reasons not to like me. I just think we should start anew, give each other a chance. Give this a chance."

You couldn't deny it was a good prospect. Peace at last.

"If that's what you want. If you like me too."

You hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Yeah. I think we can try."

Tommy smiled and got up. He slowly walked around the table. He stopped to kill the cigarette in the ashtray you kept on the table, then continued towards you and stopped in front of you. He put his hands in the pockets of his elegant trousers.

"Are you going to come back to work now?"

You sighed. "Ugh... I mean, the boss is a pain in the ass, but the guy next door is cute," you joked.

He snorted. "Is that a yes?"

You nodded.

"Everything clear?"

"Good. See you tomorrow."

You huffed. "We are gonna die," you mumbled.

"What was that?" Tommy asked lifting his chin, daring you to repeat what you had just said.

"Your plan has more holes than a colander."

"Not again," Ada groaned.

"Okay, we'll leave you to it," John announced. He was the first to leave the room, followed by everyone else while you and Tommy had a staring match.

Polly was the last to leave. She looked at the two of you knowingly.

"Make it quick, boys," she said as she closed the door.

You got closer and sat on the table.

"So?" Tommy asked, walking up to you.

"You are an idiot." Before he could retort, you pulled him into a kiss by his collar.

His hands slipped to your hips and pulled you against his chest. You smiled against his lips.

He pulled away from your lips just a few inches to speak. "You need to stop challenging my authority in front of everyone."

"Nah, It's too much fun."

He pushed you away, making you laugh. He tried to suppress a smile trying to act annoyed, but he couldn't, not when he heard you laughing.

[regenderate-fic]

Let Me Spin and Excite You

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Fifteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Fifteenth Doctor, Rose Tyler Rating: General Word Count: 1,932 Other Tags: Reunions, Immortal Rose, Bad Wolf as Disability

Read on AO3

Summary: After years of looking for the Doctor, Rose meets a strange-but-familiar man at the club.

NOTES: i happened to finish this on esther's birthday so it's for him now. everyone say happy birthday @nounpolycule

anyway i have a ton of long wips that are going super slowly because of how grad school owns my entire soul now so this is my attempt to remind myself that i can write things that are short sometimes.

title from may i have this dance by francis and the lights. which has some of my favorite lyrics of any song and i'm forever mad at spotify for not telling me the version of it i first discovered is a cover (by meadowlark)

Rose leaned against the bar, drink in hand. 

The glass was full. Half an hour, and she hadn't even taken a sip. She'd meant to try and relax a bit, let loose, but it just wasn't happening. Her head hurt, her bones ached, and she felt the ever-present exhaustion hovering over her, threatening to take her out at the knees. 

Not to mention—ten years.

She'd been back in this universe for ten years. And she still hadn’t found the Doctor. 

She'd tried, of course. She'd looked for unusual happenings, bumps in the timeline, anything that might indicate the presence of a haphazardly landed time ship and its ridiculous occupant. She'd chased a million leads, ironed out as many of time’s odd little wrinkles as she could manage, followed timelines across millennia—running into the Doctor should've been inevitable, after all that. And yet she still hadn’t seen them. 

And now here she was, slumped against the wall, trying to convince herself that this was still the sort of thing she enjoyed. 

She sighed. Maybe it was time to go. She tipped what was left of her drink into her mouth and turned to leave. 

But just as she started for the door, a flurry of motion caught her eye. 

She disregarded it at first. It was coming from the dance floor, for goodness sake. Surely there was enough movement there to turn anyone’s head. But—no, this was an unexpected movement. Something out of time. 

Rose turned to look. 

Immediately, she was transfixed. 

The densely-packed crowd of dancers all but faded away around the dancer who'd caught her eye. 

Beautiful was the only word for him. He practically gleamed in the club lights—the sheen of sweat on his skin somehow made him more entrancing. He moved with a fluid ease, even as the moves themselves were unlike anything anyone else was doing. And there was something about him… Rose couldn't tear her eyes away. He just looked so joyful. 

Tears startled her at the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She missed that sort of joy—that carefree movement, lost in a sea of people. 

To hell with it. One dance wouldn't kill her. Rose took a step towards the dance floor. 

Never mind. Maybe it would kill her, figuratively speaking. The bright lights and loud noises were doing nothing for her headache. Why had she come here again? She'd enjoyed nightclubs, once, but since then every cell in her body had surely changed, fallen away only to be wholly replaced. She could hardly expect to be the same person she was.

Still. It was nice to indulge the fantasy. 

The dancing man had his hands above his head, skirt fanning out as he twirled. As Rose watched, he came to a stop, and then—

Was he looking at her? 

Rose fiddled with the hem of her jacket. She probably looked out of place, in long pants and a full-on leather jacket, with barely any makeup. She hadn't minded, but now she'd been caught out, staring unabashedly at this man, and her usual armor wasn't quite right for the scenario.

The man stepped off the dance floor. He walked like he was still dancing, with graceful, deliberate steps. Rose forced her eyes to stay trained on the dance floor as he walked past her, presumably to the bar. 

She'd been standing for too long. If she wasn't going to leave the club, she needed to find a place to sit. She looked around. Most of the tables were completely full—but then she noticed a group of people getting up, and Rose hurried over to take their table before anyone else could claim it. She kept an idle eye on the dance floor. She wasn’t up for it now—but a hundred years ago, she would've been there, carefree and having the time of her life. 

There was movement in her periphery. She looked towards it only to see the man from earlier, now lowering himself into the chair next to her. He was holding two glasses. 

“This your drink?” he asked, offering one to her. 

Rose eyed him. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” He settled into the chair. “D’you come here a lot, then?”

Rose burst out laughing. “You're really opening with the oldest line in the book?”

“I didn't mean it like that.” He flashed a smile. “I'm not from around here. Don't know the scene.”

Rose hesitated. “It's not my usual haunt, no.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Where are you from, then?”

He waved a hand. “Here and there.”

“How specific.” Rose felt herself start to smile. “And, I have to ask. Why are you here?”

“What?”

Rose nodded at the dance floor. “You've got a whole club to talk to. What are you doing here?”

He pointed at her. “You were looking at me.”

“Can't imagine I'm the only one,” Rose said, and then she blushed. She hadn't meant to be flirting—but, well, why shouldn't she? It would be ludicrous to pretend she wasn't attracted. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He raised his eyebrows. “Got a big old skeleton in your closet, have you?”

“I've barely got a closet,” Rose said, truthfully. She kept a small flat, but it wasn't really home to her. No need for closet space, not when she hadn't bought new clothes in four years. “No room for skeletons.”

“That's a shame.” The man grinned. “There's always under the bed, I suppose.”

The space under Rose’s bed was full of random bits of alien tech she hadn't gotten around to investigating. “Not my bed,” she said. “No room, what with all the doodads I've got.”

“That's a technical term, is it?” He was smiling. 

Rose smiled back. “Oh, yeah, definitely. I'm great with doodads.”

“How about thingamajigs?”

“Absolutely. One hundred percent. I'm there.” 

He and Rose grinned at each other, and suddenly Rose was sitting in a chippy just off the Powell Estate, her feet knocking against the Doctor’s as they laughed. 

She blinked. 

That feeling—the fizzy joy of an easy back-and-forth—it had been at least ten years since she’d felt that way. It was nearly alien to her now.

But… it was nice. And there was no harm in it, was there? If this frankly gorgeous man wanted to buy her a drink and have a bit of flirty banter—well, she wasn't exactly going to say no. 

The man gestured towards the dance floor with a flourish. “Would you like to dance?” 

Rose weighed her options. There was a reason she’d held back, before. But… this was different. Unwise as dancing may be, this man was very quickly beginning to seem worth the sacrifice.

“Yeah, all right,” she said. She smiled. “Show me your moves.”

The man’s face lit up. He held out a hand to Rose, and she took it, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. Before, when she was watching him, she’d felt like he reflected light outward, shining on the whole club, and now she shared in his glow, moving without care, lost in the light and sound, anchored entirely by this strange man’s hands at her waist. 

It was the most she’d been touched in years. She felt a bit intoxicated—or maybe that was the alcohol—a bit light-headed—or maybe she’d just been upright too long—a bit exhilarated—and there was no way to explain that away. 

The dance felt like it lasted forever, but both common sense and time sense told Rose it could've only been a few minutes before she started to feel out of breath. 

“You all right?” He had to yell in her ear to be heard. 

“Yeah, fine!” Rose hesitated. “D’you want to get out of here?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” His hand fit wonderfully around hers, and they stepped out onto the street together. The cool evening air was a welcome respite from the warm fervor of the club. Rose laughed to feel it on her face. 

“Where are we going?” she asked. 

The man gestured. “My place is just around the corner, if that's all right with you.”

Rose glanced at him. He was still grinning, still gorgeous, his face illuminated by the bright neon of the club’s sign. This night had been strange in the best way—she hardly objected to continuing it. “Lead the way, then.”

His grin grew, as if that was even possible, as if he had infinite capacity for joy. Together, they walked to the street corner—turned—

Rose felt it before she saw it. A rushing familiarity, a glorious sense of home, a giant weight lifted from her bones. She blinked. There it was: a wooden blue police box, innocently positioned in the center of a streetlight’s beam. 

The TARDIS. 

Her brain was short-circuiting. She'd stopped walking. She was staring. The TARDIS was here. The TARDIS was here, which meant the Doctor was here. The Doctor was—

She looked back at the man she was walking with. He was still grinning, his gaze fixed entirely, expectantly, on Rose. 

Rose gasped. Her body felt like it was on fire. She looked from him to the TARDIS—back to him—her lips parted—she breathed out—and on her breath there was a name. 

“Doctor?” 

The look in his eyes was so achingly tender she wanted to cry. When he said her name, it sounded the same as it always had—low, soft, with an echo of reverence. “Rose Tyler.”

She fell into him. Immediately, instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, and she closed her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

She felt the vibrations in his chest when he laughed. 

“Thought it would be more fun if you figured it out for yourself. And I was right, if you were wondering.” 

He pulled back. His eyes met hers, and she stared, trying her hardest to take in the collection of features that made up this Doctor’s face. 

“Oh, I missed you,” he breathed. 

The words sank into Rose, settled into her bones.

“Not even going to ask how you got here,” he added. “Or how long it's been.”

“Dimension cannon,” Rose said. “And—hundred years?” 

“Oh! Because—”

“Bad wolf, yeah.” Rose grimaced. “Turns out looking into all of time has some side effects.”

“Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry. I should've known.”

Rose shook her head. “Water under the bridge. Don’t apologize for that.” She raised her eyebrows. “Apologize for being so bloody hard to find. Been looking for years, I have, and best I can manage is a chance encounter?”

“Ah, the TARDIS knew what she was doing, landing here.” 

“Typical. Blaming the TARDIS.” Rose scoffed. “Still haven’t forgotten about twelve months.”

“That was one time!” 

“Scotland? Queen Victoria? Where were we trying to go then?”

“Oi, I made it to Sheffield eventually—”

“Not with me you didn’t!”

Their eyes met, and suddenly they were both laughing, falling into each other, and the Doctor’s arm curled around Rose’s waist as he asked, “What do you say, then? Fancy a trip?”

Rose let her head fall against his side. “Fancy a good night’s sleep first.”

“Hey, I've got beds.”

Rose smiled. “I've missed that time machine of yours.”

“Just between you and me? I think she's missed you too.” The Doctor dropped his arm from Rose’s waist in favor of taking her hand, and as he entwined his fingers with hers, they stepped together in the direction of the TARDIS. 

[slxsherwriter]

Home for the Holidays

Fandom: MacGyver

Pairing: Tim Wexler/reader, Tim Wexler & reader

Word count: 6,471

Warnings: Difficult family relationships, two separate endings, faking dating trope

Author's note: Does this really fit here? No. But I say it does because it's an Englund character. Super niche, but that's never stopped me before. I hope everyone who decides to read enjoys it. Special thanks to the wonderful @tinalbion for all the help with this one, from reading it to helping me figure out the ending(s). This ended up taking on a life of its own and was far longer than intended. Cruddy gif below is my own.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta

The holidays were a dreaded time of year. What should have been an enjoyable time with family was an utter nightmare for you. You loved your family, you really did. But the judgment and the nitpicking drove you up a wall. Without fail, there was always a bombardment of questions about your love life and when you were going to settle down. Sure, most of the time it came from a place of good intention but the constant push on the subject made you want to pull your hair out and it was enough to make you feel nauseous at just the mention of the holidays. As always, this year, you planned on grinning and bearing it to the best of your ability.

“You don't get it, Tim,” you complained to your long-time friend. “It's never ending for the entire length of the holidays. From every. Single. Member of my family. You would think a simple response back would be enough. But no. They aren't ever satisfied with the reply that I haven't found the right person yet. No, you would think that is the end of the world.” Tim gave a sympathetic smile, pushing around the rest of his lunch. It wasn't like you didn't know that he was less than fond of the holiday season as well. You closed your eyes and let out a small huff, an apology followed closely after.

“It's okay.” Always easy going and understanding. That was Tim. He had been that way right off the bat during your first meeting in college. “I know it's rough for you, and I know you know it's rough for me. Would rather have you get it out here so you can concentrate at work.”

“Sometimes, I think it would be nice if we could just skip over that time of the year entirely. Not like there aren't plenty of others who hated it just as much.” He chuckled softly.

“Yeah, well, we know that's never going to happen. So, we just have to suck it up and deal with the most wonderful time of year, every year, for the rest of our lives.” You flicked one of the remaining beans from your salad in his direction, as the comment finally brought a smile to your face.

“One of these years, we should say fuck it and just stay home. Me and you. Screw expectations and the rest of the world.” Something that neither of you would ever do, but occasionally, it was nice to dream about it.

“I would be afraid of your mother hunting us down.” He had a valid point. It went without a doubt that your mother would hunt the both of you down and ream you out into the next year. The woman could be outright terrifying when she wanted to be. Nothing would set her off more than missing the holidays. Especially if it would be for unjust reasons in her eyes.

“You're right. As always,” you teased after a second. “Guess that plan is outta the window. We’ll have to come up with something else.” That final thought closed out your lunch as work demanded that you return to your duties. The discussion was tabled for now.

*************************************

The thought came around a whole hell of a lot sooner than you had hoped. After a phone call with your mother, you felt desperate.

It wasn't what you wanted to do, but with little choice, it seemed like the best idea that you could have created. It all hinged on what Tim thought, though, and that wasn't anything you felt you could anticipate. All you could really do was hope that he felt like it was a decent enough idea that would get both of your families off of your backs.

“So,” you started casually, not able to bring yourself to look at him just yet. Things could be made a little awkward. Sure, you had known each other for years. Tim was your best friend and life without him? Well, it was unthinkable.

“Oh, boy. That's never a good start to any conversation.”

“No, no. It's nothing bad or nothing like that.” Your eyes shot up to him in a near panic. Your anxiety about the conversation to come made you overreact just slightly. Tim's smile fell just a bit.

“Hey, it's okay. Take a breath.” Right. The function necessary for living. You let out a sigh and rubbed your face.

“I'm sorry. I had a call with my mother last night and spent the whole night worrying about heading home next week.”

“That bad already? She wasted no time this year, huh?”

“God, no.” You slouched a bit and braced your head in your hands, elbows resting against the counter. “Painful. It was absolutely painful, Tim. I would have rather had teeth pulled.” There was a moment of quiet. Really, what was there to say to that anyway? You managed to pull your head out of your hands and refocus back on Tim.

“Kept me up most of the night, honestly. Spent it trying to think of anything that could get me out of it but came up with nothing. So, I realized I had to change how I was approaching the problem. Instead of removing myself from the situation, I need to change how I'm putting myself in said situation. There were a few scenarios I came up with, all a little worse than the next. Unfortunately.” A pause as you shifted and crossed your arms over your chest, keeping your gaze on the man. “The best I came up with? Bring someone home with me.” His brow rose in surprise.

“Just how do you expect to do that? Are you seeing someone I don't know about?”

“No, there isn't anyone that I'm seeing.” You rolled your eyes. “But if my parents think I am, then my mother would at least get off my back, and maybe my entire family would focus on someone or something else entirely. Some peace would be a miracle and worth it.”

“It might just work. If you could make it believable enough.” He hummed as he thought about the idea you presented. Which was a good thing given what was coming next.

“You think so?” There was a noncommittal sound. Close enough. “The problem is, I don't want to bring home some random person. Would rather have someone I trust, ya know? Make it easier to figure out the whole thing. That being said, how would you feel about coming home with me for the holidays? Escape your family for a bit and get some good homemade food.” The last bit came out in a rush, the words almost blending together. Your eyes slipped from Tim, almost not wanting to see his reaction. The man across from you was the only one that you could remotely begin to trust with something like this. If he said no, it was just going to be another miserable holiday season. You waited on baited breath, unsure what his response would actually be. There were plenty of accurate predictions that you could have made when it came to how he would answer most things. This? It was far out of the realm of anything previously thought possible that you couldn't even begin to venture a guess.

“You're asking me to come home with you on the holidays and pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“I know it's a lot to…”

“You think it would work?” He cut you off before you had the chance to finish your statement. It wasn't an outright refusal. That still left you unsure what the hell was on his mind about the whole thing.

“There really isn't anyone else that I would trust more for something like this.” For a second, just the briefest of seconds, you swore you saw a blush on his cheeks. When you blinked, it was gone.

“It definitely beats dealing with what I'm gonna hear at home. So, why not? If you think we can pull this off, let's do it. Might be fun anyway.” The two of you hadn't really done anything crazy in college like some of your friends had. Playing it safe had practically been built into your DNA. When Tim had agreed, it was like a giant weight had been lifted off your chest and your shoulders.

“God, I owe you. Majorly. Like I can't even begin to pay you back for this.”

“You're getting me away from my house. We'll call It even.” Hardly the case, but you weren't about to argue with him. He might second think the entire decision. Which would be utterly disastrous. And that wasn't an over exaggeration.

************************************

The flight home hadn't been terrible. There was only a three hour delay. Something that you hadn't complained about even if being stuck in an airport was not anyone's idea of fun. It just meant three fewer hours you had to deal with at home.

You and Tim had hashed out the details. It had been surprisingly easy. With your long standing friendship, you both were able to toss out ideas and concoct the story that would be shared with your family. A lot of it was based in fact, something that made it that much easier to remember and be able to spout off with a confidence and genuine nature that would force your family to believe you.

Pulling up to your childhood home, the sense of dread that normally accompanied this time of the year had been significantly lessened due to the presence of the man beside you.

“You ready?” His voice broke you out of the staring contest you had been having with the house. There were already a load of cars present. Tim would have no easing into this.

“As ready as I'll ever be. Are you?”

“I'd like to think so.” Another wave of gratitude and appreciation for the man washed over you. No one could have asked for a better friend.

“All right. Let's do this.” You hoped that if it got to be too much, he would tell you. No backup plan had been created, but you could think well enough on the fly and would sort it out. Your mother was already at the door as the two of you exited the car, and despite having plotted it all out, the way that his fingers laced with yours caught you by surprise. The gentle squeeze had been as equally as unexpected, but the message was clear. Calm down. How he was so calm right then was beyond you. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

“Hi mom.” A moment of thought that this wasn't the best of ideas. She hadn't given any sort of indication about Tim. Of course, she had met the man before. It was hard to be friends with him throughout college and not at some point have an introduction.

“Hey, sweetie. And hello, Tim.” Relief. You felt relief as she smiled and greeted both of you. That was the first obstacle to get over. Now, there were just several more to go before you were both back on a plane and heading back west. “I'm so glad you both could make it our here. Your family didn't mind, Tim?”

“It was a bit of a negotiation but we managed.” The lie rolled off smoothly and your mother bought it. The questioning slowed, beyond the typical asking how everything was going and what was new. Thankfully, given the fact that you both worked at the plant, it made it relatively quick to go through the list and be given some peace to settle In before dinner at the least.

“So far, so good.” Tim wasn't wrong in the assessment.

“Yeah, I would say that we have them all fairly convinced.” No real hardball questions had come your way, nor had there been any sort of awkward or uncomfortable situation. You weren't foolish enough to think either of you would make it through this unscathed. “Then again, that was all the basic, fairly easy stuff.”

“You have a point.” He sat down on the bed that you were supposed to be sharing. That part of this entire scheme had not been something that either of you had thought about, and now it crept slowly along the edges of the room. Once. You had shared a bed once before, back in the early years of college. It had been out of sheer necessity. “You know, if it's easier for you. I can sleep on the floor. I know we've technically shared a bed before…” A memory that had clearly pulled forward for him, too.

“It's fine, Tim. I'm not making you sleep on the floor while we are here. I think we can both handle it.” Just another reason to have brought someone that you could trust. “Besides, we both know that if she walks in here and finds you on the floor, she is going to throw a fit and realize that this is all a giant ruse. And that is something that neither of us wants to deal with.” It might be a little awkward the first night, but you were both adults. You could handle it. He gave a nod and a look, the one that told you that he agreed with what you had said. The wrath of your mother was bad enough. Lord only knew how the rest of your family would react to you trying to fool them. That had been a thought you briefly entertained when you had thought up this entire scheme, but It wasn't anything that you had wanted to give a lot of thought. It had to work out. Otherwise, you might never be able to attend another family holiday.

“What's next up then?”

“Dinner,” you offered as you glanced at your watch. “In about two hours. Meaning we have a little time to kill before being put under the microscope again.” Tim rubbed his hands against his pants before he gave his knees a tap and stood up.

“It's not quite cold enough to be stuck inside. Why don't we take a walk? Get out of the house and go over anything you want to triple check?” That was a wonderful idea. How you would survive this without this man was beyond you.

“Yeah, that's a great idea.” You grabbed your coat as he pulled his on. Outside, a little privacy could be afforded. No one to walk in on the two of you. One last chance to smooth out any wrinkles in how you would respond to your family. “Thank you, Tim.”

************************************

A few days passed and the routine became easier and easier to fall into as you both found sure footing. Your family bought the story and the act that you and Tim put on, without too much questioning. That easy level of friendship that you had was the basis and made the fake relationship incredibly believable to those around you.

It was all going too smoothly. There had to be a bump in the road eventually. And it came in the form of your sister prodding at Tim. The sort of way that immediately had your defenses bristling. The sort of prodding and underhanded comments that should have been left behind in middle school. You knew that you had both grown some thicker skin since school, college included, but that didn't mean that it didn't bother you at all. You felt even more indignant about it all since you were the one who requested that he come. He was here, helping you. Your sister prodding and needling about him and you needing to find someone better wasn't going to stand. Even if you weren't really together.

“That's enough.” Finally, you had enough of hearing it. Tim had been quiet the entire time, not defending himself or saying much. Likely, he did not want to cause a problem. Your sister paused, caught off guard by the outburst. As was the rest of the table, conversation fell utterly silent. Great. You hated all attention on you, but there wasn't anything to be done about it now. You swallowed down the worry that welled up and threatened to rob you of the next statement. “You're entitled to think whatever you want, but I won't sit here and listen to you bad mouth Tim.” The words were forceful, more than you ever typically were with anyone.

“I just don't get it. Supposed you've been friends since college. Why get together now? It doesn't seem right. And besides, it's not like you've improved yourself with him.” Your fingers curled into the material of your pants, as you tried your hardest not to lose it entirely.

“Well, maybe that's just the basis of a good relationship. But, you wouldn't know that would you. Just because I don't go through guys like water and have something solid to go off of doesn't mean it's pointless or not real. And why should it matter what he does? He's been my best friend for years and knows me better than anyone. Can treat me better than anyone. And is by far, worlds and leagues smartest than any of those rich assholes you've brought home. He's a nuclear physicist for Christ's sake. I couldn't ask for better.” You tossed your napkin onto your plate, done with dinner. Unable to really eat another bite. No one stopped you as you excused yourself from the table and all but hurried out the front door. The cooler air was welcomed. Settling. The perfect escape from the heat that had become stifling.

Taking a seat by the front door on the porch was out of question. Too close. There was too much risk of someone coming out and saying something. The best option that presented itself was to take a quick walk and hope that it cooled you down.

Ten minutes passed. And that agitation remained. The quiet didn't last, though. The gentle call of your name caught your attention. It was Tim. A rush of embarrassment threatened to overtake the agitation. But out of everyone in the house, he was the only person you would have wanted to find you.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off like that and cause a scene.” Before you could say anything else or move away from where you were standing, Tim grabbed you by the arms. The words that had been threatening to fall from you were stopped dead on the tip of your tongue.

“There isn't anything you need to be sorry for,” he started, with a squeeze delivered to make sure you couldn't escape. And maybe give a little comfort. “You didn't have to stand up for me like that. I know it's going to cause some problems with you and your sister.” You shook your head immediately.

“Of course I did, Tim. I wasn't going to let her talk about you like that.”

“I mean, she wasn't exactly wrong…”

“Don't you dare start on that.” A rueful smile came, his brow slightly pinched. The sort of expression that always came when there was doubt about himself. One you had seen and knew well. “I mean it, Tim. Screw what anyone else says. You're kind, thoughtful, hard working. Intelligent, obviously. I mean, nuclear physicist and all. But those first traits are important. They make you a good man. Look what you are doing for me now. I don't know anyone else who would have done something like this. And there wouldn't be anyone I could trust more with it. I don't know where I would be without you and all you've done for me.” His touch softened against your arms, and his eyes dropped from your face. Almost like he continued to doubt what you had told him. Insecurity was something you could understand well enough, having a boatload of your own.

Instead of saying anything else, you pulled him into a tight hug. After a moment of hesitation, his arms wrapped around you. Standing out in the cool, wrapped up in each other like you were, that agitation continued to die down. The hug lasted a little longer than intended. When you pulled back, you made sure to give a smile. One that felt far more genuine than forced.

“Why don't we ditch the idea of heading back inside? Me, you, some pizza, and that new Star Trek movie?” Frankly, the idea sounded a hell of a lot better than going back inside and seeing your family. Tim laughed at the plan that you laid out, and the smile that stretched across his face finally matched your own.

“Now, that's an idea I can get behind. Come on.” His arm stayed around your shoulders as you headed back to get the rental car. The consequences could be dealt with later. Some time that felt more normal between the two of you was called for, and it would help ease whatever tensions might remain. There were still a few days that you needed to get through, and it would be best to try and manage it when you felt on more level ground. You leaned into the man beside you a little more, and finally felt like everything would be okay once more.

******************************

The night out had been exactly what you both needed for a reset. You both felt better on the drive back to the house, able to settle in and not worry about whatever the fallout would be from the outburst earlier. As anticipated, your mother wasn't happy, ready to chew you out for leaving like you had, but you managed to push it off with a few placating words and lies. There wasn't a chance in Hell that you would be apologizing to your sister for what you had said, knowing that she wouldn't for hers. Besides, you meant what you said. An empty apology would be symbolic, sure, but you didn't even feel like forcing that. Not when she had insulted Tim the way that she had and meant it herself.

It made things a little tense and uncomfortable in the house, but you stuck to your guns over it. Which was fine by you. It meant that you and Tim had a little more peace. There were fewer pestering questions and the sort of focus that made you a little worried that they would see through the charade that you had fooled them with so far. Fine by the both of you, really.

Lazy walks in the colder weather, movies both in your old room and in the living room when no one bothered with the area, and some quiet reading. Or not so quiet reading. An activity that came as a surprise enjoyment just after college. Reading duties would be traded back and forth, one of you listening while the other read aloud. It didn't matter what it was. While you and Tim spent a lot of time together in general, the close corridors meant more than typical. Tim seemed to enjoy the time, relaxed in a way that you hadn't seen in a while. It was nice.

With a few exceptions, it was actually a nice little break from the usual routine that you had fallen into with work and the usual drum of life. In a way that neither of you had realized was needed.

The gift exchange had snuck up before you knew it. The family? They were easy. Typically, everyone was fairly routine each and every year. Not that you did the exact same thing, but they liked what they liked, and it left it almost an automatic purchase. Tim? Tim was a little different this year. He had come here for you, and you knew that he was going to have to deal with things that he shouldn't have had to just because he was there with you. It had to be something with a little more meaning, something that showed your appreciation for his friendship and what he had done for you. Without being too much, of course. That was a fine balancing act.

You were a little nervous about it all. A few practical gifts that you knew he would appreciate. Small things. A new lab coat pocket protector, this cool new little handheld Geiger counter that he could keep on himself, a funny mug for coffee. The bigger one that you had to go searching for? A signed copy of Feynman's lectures. You had heard him mention it once, just once, while you had been shifting through a used bookstore together. Along with it? A copy of a magazine signed by Einstein himself. It had cost you a pretty penny. Both things. But entirely worth it. Hopefully. The nerves were causing you to feel entirely uneasy. Far more than you ever had since the two of you decided to exchange gifts yearly. How was it different? You couldn't pinpoint it for sure, but even on a subconscious level, you knew it was the case.

Sitting in the living room, most of your family had wandered off. Which was just fine by you. It wasn't like they had a genuine interest, and at this point, everyone was still upset at you for spouting off at your sister. So be it. It meant that if you were wrong with the choices, no one could be there to mock you about it.

“So, I know we typically only do one thing. But with what you agree to do this year and what I knew you would have to put up with here, I felt like I needed to do a little more. Hope you don't mind.”

“You didn't…”

“I did, Tim. Just because you aren't fond of heading home yourself doesn't mean that you had to suffer through all of this. Besides, I wanted to.” The response was a soft laughing sound from him as he held up his hands in defeat. It wasn't an argument that he was going to win. It caused a smile, more genuine and more confident. You felt a bit better about it all now.

“Here,” you offered as you shoved the first two packages in his direction. The practical and fun gifts went over well. Not surprisingly. Those hadn't been the ones that you had been worried about. It was the next two. You knew which was which and hadn't been sure if you gave him the books or the magazine first. In the end, it was the magazine.

The look on his face was priceless. Entirely unexpected, caught completely off guard. You were thrilled with the fact as he stared at it.

“This is…” The words died, and he shook his head. The silence extended for a few moments before he finally managed to speak. “Wow. This is amazing.”

“Authenticated and everything. There's one more before you get too wrapped up.” You moved the heavy package over the table in his direction.

“You really…”

“Don't say it. Just open it,” you offered with a laugh. He rolled his eyes and reluctantly set aside the magazine before he reached for the other package. Nerves heightened for just a moment and the inside of your cheek suffered for it as your teeth bit down hard over and over.

“Where did you find this?” It went over better than the magazine.

“It took asking the right questions to the right people but that isn't important.”

“It's signed?”

“Yep.” He held it as if it was gold, and all those nerves that you had built up finally settled. Before you could say anything else, you were caught off guard by Tim leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. Spontaneous and something that couldn't have been anticipated. It was soft and quick, and when he pulled back, red tinged his cheeks. No one was here to witness it. It wasn't for show. He cleared his throat a little bit and pulled out two packages for you.

“Uh, here.” Both of the boxes were smaller. “Feel like I should have gotten you something more now but…”

“Shush, it's fine. This is more than enough.” The first one ended up being a beautiful gold watch. Yours had been accidentally destroyed over the summer, and you hadn't bothered replacing it yet. A long moment passed before you realized that you were holding a Rolex. It seemed that you weren't the only one that had spent more money than you probably should have for the season. “Tim, this is beautiful.” He urged you to try it on, and there wasn't any reason not to. It fit perfectly against your wrist, and you glanced up just in time to see the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Wasn't sure about the fit. Glad to see I got it right.”

“I love it.” It would go perfectly with anything that you wore to work and hopefully, you wouldn't do anything to ruin this one. Though it would be more sturdy than the last one.

“There's still one more.”

“All right. No need to be impatient.” The tease rolled easily, the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind. Neither of you seemed to want to bring it up yet, though. There was no need to make things awkward just yet. You found a piece of jewelry in the second box. A small strip of metal among a delicate chain.

“It's a piece of the IRS.” He grinned outright as he watched the way that your eyes widened at the mention of what it was.

“Are you serious?” He nodded, pleased with himself as he sat a little more straight.

“Yeah. I mean perfectly safe of course but directly from CERN. And, no, I'm not going to tell you how I got it.” He had anticipated your next question before it could even be thought of. Your stomach flipped and it felt like your heart might just beat right out of your chest.

“Mind helping me put it on?” He nodded and gave a little motion for you to turn before he reached for the necklace. You shifted and made sure that he was able to see what he needed to do, head tipped a little bit. The weight settled against your throat but it was comfortable. Fingers brushed over the small piece, your mind racing. His fingers lingered on the back of your neck, brushing down to your back slowly. Almost a sense of hesitation.

It was enough of a jolt to you that you turned and before any thought could be given to any action, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Fundamentally, it changed everything but things had been subtly shifting since your arrival. Things that hadn't been acknowledged or even really thought about. But they had been there. This was the culmination of it all. When you had made that statement to your sister, acknowledging that there couldn't have been anyone better, it hadn't been initially meant in a romantic sense on your part even though that was what you had wanted them to believe. It had been there though, even then, and it had only grown and shifted, twisted in ways that you couldn't anticipate.

Breaking from the kiss, the two of you were silent. A struggle to figure out what to say ensued. After another few seconds, you started to laugh softly. Unable to help it. He soon followed, and the mingled laughter rang out.

“Okay, so who is going to end up winning the bet?”

“Charlie. Without a doubt.”

“Ahh, shoulda probably have known that one.” The smiles remained. His arm found your shoulders as you resituated yourself on the couch beside him. Comfortable. It wasn't as awkward as there had been worried about. No, it was almost as natural as any other moment of your relationship had been. “We aren't going to hear the end of it.”

“No, no we are not.” It would be worth some teasing and I told you so’s by your coworkers. Even if it was a tad embarrassing, it wasn't like you were going to change a moment of it. His lips pressed to your temple softly, the affection flowing freely and easily. “This might be the best holiday I've ever had.” You couldn't help but grin at his declaration.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can argue. Best holiday I've ever had.”

*******************************************************************************************************************

BONUS: Platonic ending

“It's signed?”

“Yep.” He held it as if it was gold, and all those nerves that you had built up finally settled. You should have known better than to be worried about it. Tim would have appreciated a box from you. He had always been that way.

“I can't believe you managed to find this. Thank you.” He had barely been able to tear his eyes from the books in hand. Just another, sure, sign that you had managed to get it all right. There was no real compulsion to break the silence or the reverie he seemed to be in. It took a few moments before the spell broke. Like it would be anything that you would complain about. You got the same way after all. It was part of the reason that you two go along so well. He cleared his throat a little bit and pulled out two packages for you.

“Uh, here.” Both of the boxes were smaller. “Feel like I should have gotten you something more now but…”

“Shush, it's fine. This is more than enough.” The first one ended up being a beautiful gold watch. Yours had been accidentally destroyed over the summer, and you hadn't bothered replacing it yet. A long moment passed before you realized that you were holding a Rolex. It seemed that you weren't the only one that had spent more money than you probably should have for the season. “Tim, this is beautiful.” He urged you to try it on, and there wasn't any reason not to. It fit perfectly against your wrist, and you glanced up just in time to see the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Wasn't sure about the fit. Glad to see I got it right.”

“I love it.” It would go perfectly with anything that you wore to work and hopefully, you wouldn't do anything to ruin this one. Though it would be more sturdy than the last one.

“There's still one more.”

“All right. No need to be impatient.” The tease rolled easily. Despite everything, all the fake bullshit that you had to spew for your family and the closer than usual affection and contact, nothing in that strong bond between the two of you had really changed. It felt like a testament to the work that you had both put into the foundation of your relationship. Proof that such a strong platonic bone could exist. No matter what your coworkers and lord knew how many others had said. You found a piece of jewelry in the second box. A small strip of metal among a delicate chain.

“It's a piece of the IRS.” He grinned outright as he watched the way that your eyes widened at the mention of what it was.

“Are you serious?” He nodded, pleased with himself as he sat a little more straight.

“Yeah. I mean, perfectly safe, of course, but directly from CERN. And, no, I'm not going to tell you how I got it.” He had anticipated your next question before it could even be thought of. Your stomach flipped, and it felt like your heart might just beat right out of your chest.

“Mind helping me put it on?” He nodded and gave a little motion for you to turn before he reached for the necklace. You shifted and made sure that he was able to see what he needed to do, head tipped a little bit. The weight settled against your throat but it was comfortable. Fingers brushed over the small piece, unable to keep yourself from smiling. Your own little piece of history. He had hit the nail on the head incredibly well. Not that he often missed.

“It's absolutely perfect, Tim. I'm blown away.” You could hear the grin in the words, not even needing to see his face.

“Gotta say, I gave myself a bit of a pat on the back with that one. Didn't think you would be expecting it. And there wasn't a chance that anyone was getting you anything similar.” There wasn't a lie there. You didn't think that anyone thought even somewhat close to the same realm. It was more than you could have asked for and beyond anything anticipated.

“You may have just won it this year.”

“I don't know about that. These both,” he offered and motioned towards the magazine and books. “I'm thoroughly impressed. Didn't think I would ever own anything signed by Einstein, and I really thought it would be years before I would be able to find the Feynman lectures. And signed? Wouldn't have dreamed that.” All those nerves for nothing. You should have known better. You both settled back into the couch, his arm haphazardly thrown over your shoulders.

“Okay, so who is going to end up winning the bet?”

“Charlie. Without a doubt.”

“Ahh, shoulda probably have known that one.” The smiles remained. It wasn't a secret that there was an office pool surrounding the idea of if you and Tim would end up together. Particularly, the guards. When word had gotten out that he was spending the holidays with you and your family? Pandemonium. Complete and utter pandemonium. To the point that it had been wholly amusing to the both of you. “You know, they probably aren't going to believe it anyway.”

“Yeah, I know. We could end up having a little fun at their expense.”

“God, that could turn into a shit show, but it's so tempting.” The laughter that filled the room was genuine and full. As easy as it was when it was just the two of you alone.

“Right again. Unfortunately. It's probably not worth the headache. As amusing as it would be.” He hummed as if seriously contemplating it before sighing out an agreement.

“Can't have them all, I guess.” There was a comfortable silence that fell over the room. One that there wasn't any need to break right away. The entire thing could not have gone better. Your family believed it. They were off your backs, and for the most part, Tim had seemed to enjoy himself. There was no better pick than the man beside you. No better friend.

“This might be the best holiday I've ever had.” You couldn't help but grin at his declaration.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can argue. Best holiday I've ever had.”

[takeyourcyanide]

Until I Ache

AO3

Content Warning: Alcoholism, intoxication

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Spirit Albarn, Franken Stein, mentions of Maka Albarn and Kami Albarn (Maka’s Mother)

Word Count: 2 113

Tag(s): Excessive drinking, alcoholism, hurt/comfort, bars and pubs, angst

Summary: Essentially, Spirit ends up too wasted to walk home and calls Stein to help him get there.

Note(s): This is another relatively short one. I’d like to write some much longer ones as I have once before, but the brain fog has been tormenting me lately. I hope that this isn’t the absolute pinnacle of mediocrity! I don’t want my work to suffer. (I don’t say this for any sort of pity.) I feel as though I could do so much more with his alcoholism and really delve into it, but whatever. Perhaps I will in future fics. I greatly enjoy detailing themes of addiction and self-medicating in my writing, so I most likely will.

The warm lighting of the pub gently flickered above Spirit’s head as he sat, slumped over on one of a ton of barstools.

The idea of even stepping foot into Chupa Cabra’s made him shiver, a sharp pang prickling his spine. He’d have to see Blair if he did as such, and any reminder of his Maka would send him surely spiraling even further down the wormhole than he already was.

“Another, please,” Spirit outstretched the hand in which a shining shot glass was held, holding it out expectantly in the direction of the barkeep.

“No, way. Sorry,” the bartender shook his head, cleaning off a martini glass. He set the glass down once sparkly, grabbing the one Spirit shakily held.

“What? Why?” Death Scythe pouted childishly, his eyebrows pinching sorrowfully on his forehead.

“That would be a legal liability, sir. I can’t afford anyone suing this bar just because they were too wasted for their tortured livers to handle,” his face was stern despite the small chuckle escaping his lips.

Spirit straightened his back, grimacing in pain as his temples felt as though they might just burst.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he assured sincerely, and rather desperately.

“Psh, I don’t care if you supposedly would or would not do that, I’m not risking it! You know that happened to another pub just a few blocks away? No way, no how! My apologies, Death Scythe, sir.”

A deep and melancholic sigh racked Spirit’s frame as he stood, the weight of a thousand suns on his chest and shoulders. He stumbled out of the bar, soon being met with the sight of the bloodied and wrangled moon.

How long had he been there?

He peered down at his watch, wobbling on his feet as he tried his hardest to stand still.

The hands of the miniature clock read “1:29.”

Spirit pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling and exhaling slowly. He soothingly massaged his throbbing forehead, squinting his eyes in the direction he came from, attempting to plan his route home in his clouded mind.

‘One foot in front of the other,’ he reminded himself of how precisely to walk, as began trudging along the cobblestone streets.

……

Spirit yelped as he nearly face-planted into the sidewalk, his hands and knees surely scraped. Evidently, “one foot in front of the other” would not be enough. He fought back tears as they pricked in his eyes, feeling as though he were a pathetic child who couldn’t handle a minuscule scratch.

He hoisted himself upwards, leaning against the wall of some shoe store, fumbling for the cellphone buried in his right pocket.

The scythe dialed the only person he knew would be awake.

“Spirit?” A confused and sonorous voice rumbled through the speakers of the phone.

“Need help,” he slurred, the waterworks beginning.

“With what?”

“Can’t get home. Too drunk,” he whimpered pitifully, scrambling to conceal himself in the shadows of the dingy alleyway beside him.

“You know I live outside of the city, Spirit. It’ll take me a second to get… Wait, where are you?”

“I don’t know… ‘M so stupid,” his shoulders shook with a sob, as he slapped his palm against his forehead repeatedly.

“Calm down, Spirit. Do you see a street sign anywhere?” The voice was more stern than that of the barkeeper’s, and more intimidating, but a stable source of guidance for the drunkard.

“Uhm… I think so.. It says Morena Street,” he poked his head out cautiously, examining the sign carefully as he squinted.

“Okay. I can be there in just a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” he sniffled, a hand placed over his mouth in order to muffle his weeping.

“Yeah,” the caller hung up.

……

Stein scanned the dimly lit streets, his hands in his pockets and he walked. There was no sign of Spirit.

That is, until he moved closer to a certain alleyway.

The sounds of a familiar cry seemed to leave that narrow spot, flowing down the streets despite the weapon’s best efforts.

“Spirit?” Stein called out, entering the horridly-smelling alleyway.

“Stein!” He plummeted into the meister, face against his chest, as he wrapped his arms around his taut torso.

Stein’s eyes widened impossibly large, his arms glued to his sides. “What are you doing, Spirit?”

“Please don’t dissect me! Just get me home!” He bawled, Stein frowning as the fluids emerging from the scythe’s face were surely soaking into his turtleneck by now.

“Okay, then. First you have to remove your arms from around me, please,” Franken awkwardly suggested, struggling out of Spirit’s hold.

“Oh, sorry..”

“It’s fine… Here,” he allowed for the ginger’s head to rest against his shoulder, his own arm reaching out to steady the clumsy man as they exited the premises.

“Did I interrupt anything you were doing? ‘M sorry,” Albarn gazed at Stein sadly and guiltily, his blubbering certainly not coming anywhere close to ceasing.

“I didn’t have much to do, really. And stop apologizing, there’s no need to,” he reassured him.

“Okay…”

“So, why’d you get so drunk this time, anyway?” Stein questioned curiously, sparing a quick and inquisitive glance down at his former partner.

“Don’ even know anymore,” he began, sulking whilst wearing possibly the most petulant face the meister had ever seen. “Just didn’t feel good. I never feel good anymore, Stein. Maka hates me, too. Prob’ly partly ‘cause of this.”

“That’s not true, Spirit, I can assure you of that,” he spoke solemnly with an air of wholeheartedness.

“Whaddayamean i’s na true?” Spirit drawled, a whiny twinge to his voice like that of a young child. “She ma’es it so clear!”

“She doesn’t truly hate you, Spirit. She loves you. She’s always loved you. That’s why it makes the whole divorce and all that happened between you and Kami so much more difficult. She resents you, she’s bitter. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. She’s still so young, and doesn’t know how to handle all those conflicting feelings - Hell, no matter your age, conflicting emotions are incredibly difficult to deal with and navigate, but being so young certainly doesn’t help by any means,” Stein elucidated, raising valid points even in the midst of Spirit’s hazy and inebriated mind.

“You mean it? You really do?” The scythe sniffled, his bottom lip gently quivering.

“Of course, Spirit. It’s a glaring fact. Haven’t you noticed how worried she gets when she sees you injured? She’s mad at you. She doesn’t hate you.”

A strident sob poured from Death Scythe’s lips, as he seemingly threw the idea of stifling his weeping entirely out of the window. His abdomen contracted, his entire figure trembling strenuously.

“It’s a good thing we’re going home, huh?” Stein chuckled.

Spirit produced a strained sound in agreement, harshly and uncoordinatedly nodding his head, something he would soon come to regret when the alcohol-induced vertigo came to strike him.

……

“Wanna be loved, Stein,” the redhead bemoaned as Stein fumbled with the keys he’d had to grab from Spirit’s pocket, eventually pushing the apartment door open. “And not jus’ for my body, for once. Not love. They want me for sex. Always. Never for me, is it?”

“Isn’t that normal?” Stein questioned genuinely. “I mean, isn’t it normal for people to seemingly only want you for your body?”

“Well, everyone else seems to not think so. Or maybe it is? Dunno. But other people love.. and it’s love,” he slurred into Stein’s shoulder, allowing himself to be maneuvered onto the comfort of his bed.

“Stein.. I know you aren’t the type, but do you love me? Don’ even mean romantically.”

“I don’t know how to, Spirit. It’s just not in my nature. But would it help if I were to tell you that you’re my favorite test subject of them all?” He asked as he tucked the man in, adjusting his pillow, and ensuring that he lay on his side.

“Hm. Kinda, I guess. ‘M certainly not Maka’s favorite. Maybe not anyone’s.. But maybe yours. But that means you wanna dissect me!” Spirit exclaimed, his bottom lip sticking out more and further than ever.

“Why, of course it does, my dear,” he shot the weapon a sarcastically adoring smirk.

“You’re so mean…”

“If I’m so mean, then why did I just tuck you into bed like a kid?”

“To dissect me.”

Stein sighed, laughing a little in response. “I don’t even have any of my scalpels or utensils, in general, with me at the moment. You needn’t worry,” the meister perched himself upon the very edge of the fairly empty king-sized bed, right up against Spirit’s legs. “Now, before you inevitably fall asleep, do you need to vomit?”

“Don’ think so…”

“Okay, well, make sure to stay on your side unless you want to die of asphyxiation tonight,” Stein gently patted his former weapon on his calves.

“Asphyxiation?” He slurred in his drunken state.

“Do you want to gargle and choke on your vomit, Spirit?”

“Ew, no!” Spirit yelled out, grimacing.

“There you go.”

Stein lifted himself from his position on the bed, taking strides toward the bedroom door, his hands resting in their habitual and almost designated area; his lab coat pockets.

“Wait!” Albarn exclaimed, his hands zooming out from underneath the warmth of his plush comforter, making grabby gestures at Stein.

“What is it, Spirit?”

“I’m not sure if I ever told you this, but.. I like your voice. It’s calm.. Well, most of the time. Can you read to me?” He averted his gaze from Stein’s, humiliated, ashamed, and tense with trepidation.

“Aw, the baby wants me to read him to sleep?” Franken Stein teased, stepping closer and closer to the flushed weapon.

“Sh- shut up, Stein. Just- please?” He stared up at him longingly. Stein found it almost cute.

“Sure. Is there anything specific you would like me to read?”

Spirit retrieved the book on his nightstand, handing it to the meister, of whom had once again sat himself directly beside his legs.

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, hm? I hadn’t known that you enjoyed such literature,” Stein examined the detailed cover, looking over each and every speck of the book with his typical inquisition.

“I used to read it to my little Maka all the time,” his voice shuddered as his tear glands somehow managed to secrete even more salty liquid.

“Now, now, no more crying, Spirit. Your eyes are already all red and swollen. At this point, I’d figure that it would be painful to cry,” he thumbed at the older male’s under-eyes and cheeks, attempting to dry the moistness. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle me reading this? Perhaps you shouldn’t have it on your nightstand anymore if it upsets you so much.”

“No, no! I can handle it, I swear. Please, Stein. That’s the book I want,” Spirit blinked whatever teardrops that were left in his eyes away, rolling them upward and into the back of his head.

“All right, then,” Stein patiently agreed, acting as the sturdy force, the glue currently holding Spirit together. “Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it,`and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice`without pictures or conversation?'”

Spirit’s eyelids slowly fluttered shut as Stein continued to read from the first chapter, though one last tear did managed to slip from his eyes as he fell down the abyssal rabbit-hole that was sleep, allowing each soothing, yet stirring hand to drag him down into the land of dreams.

“…In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well,” Franken ceased his reading, peering over at his weapon.

‘That was quick. So, he still looks just as peaceful when he sleeps as he did all those years ago,’ Stein thought to himself, a mischievous and nostalgic smile decorating his face as he reminisced on each incision that he had left scattered all over Spirit’s body.

He quietly shut the book, placing it back onto the nightstand with a hushed “plop.” Steadily, Stein stood from the bed, and step by step, he took strides towards the door once more.

“Good night, Spirit,” Franken muttered underneath his breath, sparing a quick and curious glance back at the weapon.

[andreal831]

i've been reading your metas and i just love them! i wanted to ask if you had thoughts on valerie and nadia as they were some of my favorite characters from later seasons of TVD and i was shocked to learn that people dislike them (especially valerie!).

also, i read one of your cami metas and i agree that it was so dumb she died when she clearly had more story to go. s5 especially drove me up a wall because i think TO s4 would've worked to set up Legacies. they didn't need to kill hayley and i was so annoyed that they brought caroline in. cami being the angel on his shoulder in the finale should have been utizilied more.

also legacies erasure of hayley as hope's primary parent drove me up a wall and is a cardinal sin of that show. i am starting to suspect phoebe and the show people had a falling out of some kind because legacies barely mentions her. at least freya gets some cute moments (freya being the one to put hope to sleep for transition is beautiful)

Thank you for reading my posts! I'm glad you like them!

I'm not even surprised people don't like Valerie and Nadia. They are both complex women but not in the "Katherine-badass-way" per se. I've talked about before how the writers and fandom tend to only like one type of strong woman and hate on women who dare to be anything else, you can find that here. Valerie also has the unfortunate role of playing a character that challenged a Caroline ship.

I personally really enjoyed Valerie's character and didn't understand how they didn't bring her back or at least mention her since she was the last known syphoner, except for actual children. I like to imagine she's the one Hayley found when she was saving the Mikaelsons. I'll admit, when she first came on screen, she wasn't my favorite. I didn't care for the heretics initially, but they really grew on me which is a testament to the writing/acting.

Valerie goes through so much, being forced to miscarry and killed, then forced to live and travel with the man who made her lose her baby. She is then stuck with a family she doesn't really like or agree with. When she is finally reunited with the man she loved, he is in love with someone else. Despite all of this, Valerie still protects Caroline on numerous occasions and helps deliver her babies.

I didn't like that she kept information from Stefan, not giving him the choice on his life, because she didn't want to lose him. But I can understand it. She had lost everyone at that point and didn't want to be alone.

I think she really was just underutilized in TVD and people didn't like her for getting in the way of Steroline. I can't really find legitimate complaints about her. Most of the hate posts for her come across as immature. I haven't seen one post that talks bad about Valerie that isn't clearly a Care stan (and this is coming from someone who loves Care and Steroline). Valerie never did anything worse than most of the fan faves, but because her actions are ones associated with women more than men (less stabbing and more emotional manipulation), the fandom judges her for it. According to the fandom, she would have been better of running Care through with a coat rack. Oddly enough, Caroline and Valerie aren't that different.

I can't even think of a reason to hate Nadia. I even searched for people hating on her and can't find it. I definitely believe you that it exists, but what is there to hate? That she loved her mother so much she chased after her for 500 years? That when she found her, she was treated terribly but still protected her? She was a good character and deserved better than Katherine.

Speaking of overhated, amazing women. I'm tagging the post I think you are talking about here. I would have honestly been fine with everyone still dying but Cami living and taking care of Hope at the school. A vampire therapist is really what that school needed, especially one as amazing as Cami. I mean if you can handle Klaus Mikaelson, I think she can handle teenagers.

Season 5 just showed that the writers didn't care about the story, they wanted rankings to launch Legacies. What was the point of having Care there? She wasn't even in Legacies until the very end. It just undid so much character development for everyone. The writers attempted to play both ships (they did the same with haylijah/jayley) to get maximum fan satisfaction, and in the end it just destroyed the plot.

Legacies erasing Hope's family is a big reason I've never watched more than half of season 1. Whether you love them or hate them, Hope's family is more than just Klaus and they played a big role in her life. Especially to her since Klaus was hardly around. He was essentially a stranger to her. I hated even in Season 5 how they are all happy at Freelin's wedding. If my mom had just been murdered, I wouldn't have been able to smile two days later, no matter how much I loved my Aunts. Hayley was just used as a prop in Season 5 and even less in Legacies.

I first watched a couple of episodes of Legacies before watching The Originals and I thought Hayley died years before Klaus because of how Hope was grieving Klaus but seemed to not even think of her mom. When I watched all of TO, I was so angry. They died days apart and Hope seemed to be completely over it.

There's definitely rumors about Phoebe and the writers having issues. I tend not to believe rumors but there's a lot of evidence. First, Daniel couldn't shut up about the issues he and the other casts were having with the writers (namely the character destruction, the rush of the seasons, the fact that there was supposed to be 6 full seasons, and bringing on outside characters which took away their screen time). This is even more evident by the fact that Phoebe was a "guest" in Season 5. She clearly didn't want to be there.

I believe it was DRR who stated that Phoebe refused to allow her likeness to be used and the fandom ran with the idea that Phoebe somehow bought the rights of Hayley (she did not, that would be public record). I think this angered the writers/producers even more so they went out of their way to cut Hayley out, even when it wasn't necessary. They clearly could mention her, since they did. But they chose not to because they are petty. They also have the whole fandom blaming Phoebe so they could just sit back and enjoy it.

Thanks for bringing all of this up. I love talking about TVDU women <333

[aintgonnatakethis]

9 people you want to know better tag game

Thank you @bagheerita for the tag! ❤️️ Template is at the bottom below the cut.

Three ships: Young/Telford/Rush from SGU. I won't, but I could include other combinations of them and totally cheat this question - these three are the characters that just click with you, that will stick with you for your entire life.

John/Scorpius from Farscape. Me as a wide-eyed 7 year old watching a torturer clad in a leather suit come on screen: 😮😮😮

Sheppard/Todd from SGA. It's not always monsterfucking with them, but when it is... Oh boy! 👀

First ship: Third Doctor/Delgado Master from classic Doctor Who. My mum was involved in the convention scene back then so I grew up surrounded by it and we had a massive wall of every story that had been released on DVD. I hope they all made the move with us. I remember being a young kid and her bringing down a boxset with the faces of the first 7 Doctors; I'd point to one of them and she'd pick us an episode of theirs for us to watch. (Simpler times but not really)

Last song: Currently listening to Hell As Well by We Three, a band I found through @frostysfrenzy. My best songs playlist has 140 songs if you want to know my music taste without being overwhelmed.

Last movie: The Road. I saw a meme that had been made for it on here and remembered it being an excellent book, so gave it a shot. It was better in book form unfortunately. I remember it was the first time I'd seen the sentence structure of 'this happened and this happened and this happened' outside of "bad" or "childish" writing. How it was used to successfully show someone's declining mental and physical state has stuck with me.

Currently watching: Rewatching Being Human (US version) and Firefly. Trying not to let unpleasant people being involved (Mark Pellegrino and Joss Whedon respectively) ruin things I've long-term loved. So I'll engage as long as I'm not providing them financial/social/political influence to harm others. Yes, I am looking at people who still pay for Harry Potter merch.

Currently reading: Here, have a google drive full of SG1 and SGA books. I can't remember which blog linked it originally, but I'm on book 6 of the SGA Legacy series, which is basically the plot of season 6 if they'd been renewed. (Though I do side-eye some things in there, like Sheppard instantly getting together with Teyla and there being a hint to Keller being abusive in her relationship with Rodney. I don't think they would have done the former on TV as even though Teyla isn't military she's still under Sheppard's command so it would reflect poorly on the real life US military - which is the only reason O'Neill and Carter didn't get together properly, if I'm remembering right? The latter... I've seen too much of Keller bashing in fandom. I don't need it in my "official" content too.)

Currently eating: I just finished some garlic and chilly chicken drumsticks and rice. I've been eating good since my boyfriend got into cooking. 😁

Currently craving: Hmm... I think I'm good. Full of food and an extra of my ADHD meds because I'm running on night-mode currently, meaning I'd be going to bed around 6-7am except I need a doctor's appointment so I'm gonna have to stay up and tough it out. Took it at 11pm so should have worn off enough for me to sleep after my appointment. (While the able-to-focus effect only last 8 hours, the you-will-stay-awake part persists for 12. 🙄)

Tagging: @frostysfrenzy @autism-purgatory @froggy-pposto @paeliae-occasionally @the-golden-comet

@dream-i-die @gioiaalbanoart @wyked-ao3 @worlds-tallest-fairy @chaniis-atlantis

Template:

Three ships: 

First ship:

Last song: 

Last movie: 

Currently watching: 

Currently reading: 

Currently eating: 

Currently craving:

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Complexly Chaotic

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, You, Reader

Word Count: 968

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Sirius Black isn’t made to be a boyfriend. He’s made for a good time. He’s made to scratch an itch. He’s made for whatever this is, complex and chaotic as it may be. And above all he’s made to be a damn good friend.

Tags/ Warnings: Minors DNI, Sex, Kissing, Cheating? Kinda, Consensual Cheating, Shame, Guilt, Angst, Smut, Lycanthropy, Remus is scared of making her a werewolf/hurting her, Unrequited Love, Marauders Era, Sirius/Reader are in their last year

Notes: I am neck deep in the other Evans girl & all my other works are on hold but what am I to do when inspo strikes at midnight for my two best boys ❤️

TAG LIST // MASTERLISTS & INFO

‘Oh god,’ you pant, snapping Sirius from his thoughts and bringing him back to reality. Not that he knew how he could lose focus in a moment like this, how not even warm wet cunt was enough to engage his mind long enough to stop it drifting. But, like every single time before it happened again because as incredible as these moments were they were always over too soon and that’s why his mind strayed, wondering when the next time would be, wondering how long you’d torture him before you let him back in.

He didn’t know how it had happened. How at some point he’d essentially become his best friend’s surrogate penis. All he knew was that he was no more able to say no to you than he was to Remus. That when his friend had explained h­is lack of interest wasn’t a lack of interest at all but fear, shame and sheer fatigue, his condition marring another aspect of his life, Sirius’ had felt for him.

And then, as Remus explained he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, let his condition affect you Sirius had gawped as he’d floated the insane idea between them. A way for you and him to exist without you having to sacrifice as he did. And as Remus had pointed out to an agog Sirius, who better to do it than a friend. A friend who would see you right. A physical thing nothing more.

Yet what Remus hadn’t realised was just how much more than physical it was for Sirius. How he’d thought about you just as you were now, bent over with him buried to hilt inside of you, your breathy little moans not masked by the sound of the running water, spattering against the weathered tiles of the changing room shower. How he’d thought about doing this a million times before he’d ever gotten the chance to. How he’d trade this to have just an ounce of something real with you. How he wanted to kiss you, hold you, love you.

Except after this you wouldn’t do any of that. After this you’d simply offer him the same shy look you gave him after every time, as if he hadn’t come apart at the seams by your very being. After this you’d trudge back to the castle, the pair of you going your separate ways until he inevitably found you and Remus together, cuddled up on a sofa in the common room or in his bed, low murmurs and faint kisses the only thing for him to hear as he pushes his head into the pillow, praying the thin canopy would shield him the way a wall would.

As the image of Remus flashes in his mind he forces it out. He couldn’t think of him, not now. Even if it had been his idea, a simple favour that the two of them need never speak about, thinking about him still filled him with guilt.

Because how could a friend do this?

‘Sirius,’ you moaned, back bending as you flopped against the wall for support, the sound of wet skin against cold tile ridiculously lewd in his ears.

‘Hold on,’ he commands as if the fact you’re thinking of him isn’t enough to make him bust right there. As if he doesn’t revel in the fact that even if this is an insignificant physical thing it’s still him you’re focused on, it’s still him you want if only for ten minutes after quidditch practice.

‘Can’t,’ you whimper and as you lose footing, your tiptoes finally unable to support you in ecstasy, he realises it’s helping him go deeper, spearing you in half as you cry out his name, clenching around him until he’s calling out yours, spilling into you the way he tells himself he never should.

The water’s cold when he comes around, forehead buried in between your shoulder blades where he’d hid himself to anything that wasn’t you and him, but you don’t seem to care. As you disentangle yourself from him you don’t seem to notice how your skin is now covered in goosebumps but he does. He notices everything about you, like he always has.

It was him who noticed you first. It was him who spoke to you first, who made you laugh first and him who introduced you to Remus. It was him who’d thought he’d get bored of you and stepped aside so that his friend could have a shot. It was him who’d fell in love with you before Remus even had the chance to.

Remus.

It’s like his presence is with you after, lingering between you as you clean up and get changed. Nothing’s changed of course, as he trudges back to the castle it’s just you and him except he can feel the distance now. As if you leave an extra gap for the boy who should be there. The boy he probably could’ve, would’ve, convinced this arrangement was ludicrous if it didn’t benefit him so much.

As you reach the courtyard he can hear the thrum of people on the other side of the doors and he knows that once you go through them that’ll be it, well, until you have another itch that needs scratching. Which is why he’s surprised when you lean in and kiss him, closing the gap and pushing Remus out of the picture a little while longer. It’s wildly inappropriate given how many people could potentially spot you and yet he can’t find it in him to care because even as he watches you flee inside, cheeks red in the low lamplight, he can’t help but feel that you’re seeing him, seeing what he sees in the two of you.

And even with the guilt, the complexity and chaos of it all, he kind of hopes for that.

Sirius Tags

@caitlin1996

[satashiiwrites]

morning writing first draft—wip whenever

making some headway on this chapter finally. Tagging whoever wants to write some on a saturday morning.

Title: Choices and Regrets, Chapter 13

Fandom: 911, Dark Matter

Pairing: Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Summary: If you could go back and change the choices in your life, would you?  Would you love the same people, go on the same vacations, have the same career? Or would you have regrets?

After the lightning strike, an unexpected visitor makes Buck question all the choices he’s ever made. From dropping out of the Seals to never making a move on Eddie because the time hasn’t been right. He’s going to get an up close and personal look at what could have been because another version of Buck is focused on taking his choices away from him—including Eddie and Christopher Diaz. 

Tags/warnings: dark themes, dubious consent, explicit sex, kidnapping, murder, major character death, drug use, identity fraud, topping from the bottom

Buck crowds Eddie, needing to offer comfort as well as understanding. “What?”

“He picked Christopher up from Abuela’s. Said they were going to have a sleepover.” Eddie turns his phone so Buck can see the screen, and he has a moment of vertigo. 

It’s not his face smiling next to Christopher’s. 

That’s not him.  

The picture was taken in the Jeep. Christopher is leaning forward from the back seat where his booster is, arms wrapped around the other him’s neck as he takes the photo. Christopher has a smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  

It’s not the only photo. There’s a series of them. In each of them, this other him has purposefully taken a selfie of himself with Christopher, taking him to dinner at a familiar Mexican hole-in-the-wall that they frequent and is Christopher’s favorite, to playing video games on the infernally uncomfortable couch that Buck’s mother had bought him when she’d noticed he hadn’t replaced it after Taylor had moved out when visiting after the lightning strike. 

Christopher is asleep on that same couch, the other version of him twisting his body to make sure that Christopher’s face is visible below his smirking visage. 

Buck feels ill. 

“Did he say why?” He asks Eddie shakily. 

“Need to reconnect with my Superman,” Eddie says, reading the text message below the pictures aloud. “Fuck.”

“He hasn’t hurt him,” Buck says, not sure it’s true. 

“Yet. He hasn’t hurt him yet,” Eddie hisses, pulling away and pacing in the narrow space between bed and dresser.  

“Eddie, he doesn’t have a reason to hurt Christopher,” Buck says. “Christopher is leverage.”

“Christopher is not leverage!” Eddie snarls, fists clenched and ready to fight, eyes wide as they meet Buck’s. “He can’t… I…”

“Eds,” Buck coaxes, taking a step toward Eddie to try and calm him. Usually, their roles are reversed, but Buck can’t let Eddie go off like an unguided missile whose only intention is to get Christopher away from the other version of himself. 

Eddie’s phone dings with a new message. 

“Fuck!”

Buck grabs Eddie instinctively, slipping his hands around his lover’s waist and pulling Eddie into his body. Eddie is shaking, but he doesn’t rip himself away. “What’s the message?”

“He’s inviting me to join them for breakfast. At our ‘usual place.’ He’s telling me he knows.”

“Knows what?” Buck asks for clarification. 

“That you’re here,” Eddie stresses, sagging against Buck. “Shit. What am I going to do, Buck?”

Buck takes Eddie’s phone from his limp fingers. “Are you sure? What’s the context?”

Eddie licks his lips, fingers anchoring themselves in Buck’s shirt. “We had a misunderstanding when he made a mistake—something you would have known what I meant without needing to ask. What’s our usual breakfast spot?”

“After work, it’s Paula’s. If it’s just us and Christopher? We go to that hole in the wall that Pepa’s friend owns, which only does Sunday brunch.”

Eddie smiles sadly, fingers twisting tighter to give a little tug of emphasis. “He thought it was Eggs and Bake.”

“Eggs and Bake?  We only go there if Chimney is picking the place and you hate their eggs.”

“I do not,” Eddie grumbles but he’s made his point. 

“So is he at Paula’s?  Christopher’s only been there like twice.”

“It’s out of our way unless we’re coming from work.”

“Right.  So what do we do?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t know.  I have to go, right?  He has Christopher.”

“We need to talk to Athena.  You’re not going in without backup and if he sees me, it’s game over.”

Eddie slowly nods. “Okay.”

“Let’s go talk with Athena.  She’ll know what to do.”  Buck prays desperately that she will. 

[karniss-bg3]

Hey guys, hope you're doing well.

I apologize for being quiet/less active lately. I've hit a bit of a creative wall where I'm feeling the bite of burnout and it's been a struggle to write anything I can feel good about. My cat has also gotten sick which has resulted in a mad dash to the vet and a great deal of worrying on my end. She is fine for the moment which is a relief but the bill that came attached right before the holidays has added a new layer of stress. It will all work out but the events compound one another and it has tossed my mind into a vast, bleak fog.

For this reason I'll not be accepting new writing prompts for the time being. The ask box will remain open for all other inquiries/comments. I suspect the earliest I'll reopen writing requests is early next year after things have settled down. I do still have a few prompts to address so folks may see writing still pop up here as I move through the queue.

I know I often thank people for their support but I do want to delve into that a bit deeper. I never expected much from this blog when I first started it. I figured it would just be a depository for my ravenous Kar'niss obsession so I wouldn't flood followers on my primary blog with material they didn't sign up for. Instead it's morphed into a little haven for fellow drider enjoyers to congregate and discuss amongst their peers. From theorycrafting to praising their favorite Absolute loving arachnid, this spot became so much more than I ever imagined. Three-hundred plus followers later I still see the enthusiasm thrust into the comments and tags for a character that deserved more than he got.

Fandom can be beautiful and it can be ugly. Just like any community, it's subject to the flaws of its contributors. I am happy to say that, by and large, I've bore witness to more beauty than anything else and it's part of what has made this journey special to me. I am not Kar'niss, I don't work for Larian Studios, I am just a guy who gravitated toward a character I felt I could relate to and I ran with it. I am by no means a world class writer, merely someone who enjoys the art of storytelling. I am proud I was able to enrich an already bustling community with my little blurbs of text and I hope to continue to do so in the future.

So when I say thank you for your support I mean it. This has been some of the most fun I've had over the last two months and it is because of your passion and willingness to reach out. Hype comes and goes and I don't expect Kar'niss to be at the forefront of someone's mind forever. Should the day come that the devoted screams fade into hushed whispers I will still look back on my time here with great fondness. All of you are wonderful and I wish you nothing but good fortune for the end of this year and all throughout the next. Thanks for sticking with this old fart.

Have a fantastic holiday everyone!