#marvel you better not screw this up for us

[itsladyliv]

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“You’re gonna take my powers, aren’t you?”

“No.”

 @webtrinsic1122

[moeitsu]

Explaining the James Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Lore for the new fans :)

I made this as a little cheat sheet for all the new Logan/Wolverine fans, in case you’ve never seen the movies or read the comics. Hopefully it’ll help with your fanfics and understanding his character better <3

Logan is my favorite of the Marvel superhero’s, and he and I go way back….so far back that my Dad dressed up as Wolverine and I as Rogue for Halloween in 2006. So he holds a very special place in my heart.

Lore - Part 2  Wolverine Comics

If you’ve seen X-men Origins: Wolverine, I hate to break it to you, but that backstory is not canon to the X-men universe. The later movies really screwed up the timeline. So the information here is strictly from the comics.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Pre-Adamantium Binding:

His real name is James Howlett, ‘Logan’ is later used as an alias to distance himself from his past.

He was born sometime around 1880, in Alberta Canada.

He is the illegitimate son of Elizabeth Howlett and Thomas Logan. He grew up on the Howlett estate and believed John Howlett was his real father.

His mutant powers first appeared when he was a child. He has accelerated healing, heightened senses, and retractable bone claws.

The trigger was caused by Thomas Logan killing James Howlett. The overwhelming fear and anger made his power manifest, blinded with rage he kills Thomas.

As his biological father dies, he reveals to Logan that he is his true father. The event is deeply traumatizing, and Logan runs away from his family estate. His mother commits suicide shortly after.

Logan has a half brother known as Sabertooth (Victor Creed) who has similar powers to the Wolverine but is more ‘animalistic’

The details vary across the comics but the brothers are always seen as rivals. And often pitted against eachother.

Logan served in WWI, WWII, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War.

He also served in a Canadian military force known as ‘Department H’ that specialized in superhuman affairs. (This was after the experiment, I’ll go into more detail later)

Sometime before the Weapon X program: On Earth-616, Logan had a wife (Itsu) and son in Japan where he was training at the time. They were killed by the Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes)

Weapon X Program - Adamantium Binding:

The Weapon X program was run by multiple people working in secret for the Canadian government. Originally beginning in 1845, their goal was to experiment on mutants and create their own super-soldiers.

Logan was deceived and manipulated into undergoing the Weapon X experiment. He did not consent to being a test subject.

For some reason the X-Men Origins movie makes it out to be that Logan willingly chose to undergo this process, only to later reveal that he was tricked into doing so.

Before being captured, he was still struggling with his identity, he was close to 100 years old at the time. His life was filled with violence and loss. Making him physically and mentally vulnerable.

He was a prime target for exploitation.

Part of the experiment was to completely erase his memories and replace them with false ones. This allowed them complete control over him.

This also made it difficult for him to recall how he ended up in the program to begin with.

I repeat: they completely wiped his memory. His whole identity was gone.

100 years of memories were gone.

The bonding process turned his entire skeleton and bone claws into indestructible metal.

Due to his regenerative nature, Logan was not given anesthetic or put under for the procedure. It was excruciatingly painful.

Logan worked as a mercenary for private military contractors. He took on these assignments without fully understanding their implications because of his fragmented memory.

Sometime later he became a member of X-Force, a private military unit (affiliated with the CIA) that dealt with incredibly violent operations.

The purpose of the project was to create an unstoppable killing machine. With their end goal being to erase his humanity all together. However Logan’s mental fortitude allowed him to resist the conditioning and make his escape before it was too late.

After escaping, Logan developed a mistrust with authority. And just people in general. He felt deeply betrayed by the Weapon X program. And he struggles with the fear of being used as a weapon.

The escape and aftermath of Weapon X:

After everything Logan went through, the intense trauma and confusion significantly impacted his actions and mindset.

He was left with extreme psychological damage, and behaved more as an animal than a man for the first few years of his freedom. Living in the wilderness of Canada.

Quite literally a feral man. He lost touch of his humanity. Embracing his animalistic abilities, turning him into an apex predator.

Logan has the ability to enter something called “Beserker Rage” which he becomes entirely driven by animalistic instinct. Turning him into an unstoppable force and exerting himself for very long periods of time.

Think of when you see him running on all fours…

Over time, Logan began to regain bits and pieces of his humanity. He was later discovered by Heather and James MacDonald Hudson who took him in and helped him recover physically and mentally.

(Logan actually fell in love with Heather, and James became his best friend. They were the closest thing he had to a family)

After he recovered, he was recruited by the Canadian governments ‘Department H’. They were responsible for a lot of his training and became a key member in Canada’s superhero team: Alpha Flight.

This is where he took on the code name “Wolverine”

His time with Alpha Flight was short lived. And soon he was approached by Charles Xavier, who was looking for mutants to join his X-Men. He recognized Logan’s potential and offered him a place on the team as well as the promise to help him regain his memory.

Logan accepted, and his time with the X-Men marked a critical and significant moment in his life. Under Xavier’s guidance he was able to rebuild his identity and gradually piece together his past. All while fighting for the rights of mutants.

Being part of the X-Men gave him a sense of purpose and direction. Although his main goal had always been to uncover what he had lost, which was himself. He still struggles with trust and relationships, but eventually forms strong bonds with the other X-men.

His past with Weapon X still haunts him. And he has vivid and terrible nightmares about what he had done and what was done to him.

I won’t go into detail about his time with the X-men because that varies a lot across the comics. Just know that he had a love-hate relationship with them, but he ultimately loved them in the end.

Some sad facts about Logan that actually haunt me:

Logan has outlived everyone he ever loved. Family, friends, even his own children. He is so so so lonely.

Immense amount of survivors guilt. He feels unworthy of the life he continues to live.

He suffers from chronic nightmares. Often waking up in a violent and panicked state.

Deep-seated fear of abandonment that goes all the way back to his early childhood. He isolates himself to protect himself from more pain.

Tons of self-loathing. He believes himself to be nothing more than a killer. He thinks he is unworthy of love and happiness.

In the “Old Man Logan” storyline, he is tricked into killing the entire X-Men team. This event haunts him for the rest of his life.

Logan had a long, unrequited love for Jean Gray. He has watched her die multiple times, and each time a piece of him dies with her. On one occasion, he even had to kill her himself.

When he succumbs to “beserker rage” he loses control of himself. And the aftermath horrifies him. He is even afraid of himself at times and one of the reasons why he distances himself from others.

Some happy/soft facts to make up for everything you just read:

Logan is incredibly fatherly at times, often taking younger mutants under his protection and guidance. He becomes a mentor to them and looks out for their well-being.

In one of the comics he takes a young girl (Jubilee) to the mall and followers her around carrying her bags. He loves doting on her and I find it so adorable.

He also teaches another mutant named Kitty how to dance.

In one mission he is tasked with taking care of an infant, Hope. And he is incredibly gentle and tender with her. Cradling her in his arms and being fiercely protective.

He has a deep love and connection with animals. Especially ones that have been mistreated or misunderstood.

Caring for an injured wolf, he nurses it back to health and releases it back into nature.

He also adopts a stray, abused dog at one point.

In one of the timelines, he funded and ran the ‘Jean Gray School for Higher Learning’ He was the headmaster, and was dedicated to protecting and teaching young mutants.

In one scene he literally makes pancakes for all the students. I love him so much.

His relationship with Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner) is very brotherly. They share alot of respect and understanding for each other, and Nightcrawler often serves as Logan’s moral compass.

His happiest memories are when he was training in Japan. And he has a deep appreciation and admiration for the culture. Taking on the samurai code of honor, and respecting its discipline and humility.

His entire relationship with Laura Kinney (X-23). Essentially his daughter. Taking on a father-figure role for her.

In one of the comics he organizes a birthday party for her, knowing she never had one. He goes all out and it shows just how much he loves her.

Logan has a great sense of humor. Often dry and sardonic, he’s known for his quick wit and playful banter. Which adds a layer of warmth to his otherwise tough persona.

He is very fond of life’s simple pleasures. Which reflects his inner desire for peace and normalcy. He values the little things that make life enjoyable.

His numerous acts of kindness towards strangers. Logan is compassionate at heart.

He doesn’t comfort others with his words, but rather his presence. Logan has a very unique understanding of grief and tries to give others relief in knowing they aren’t alone.

WOW okay I wrote way too much. Tbh I actually cut a ton out of this but if anybody wants a part 2 I’d be happy to share more. Shoutout to my brother for helping me source all this with his comics lol.

If you read all this, you’re a real one. And I’m so glad we’re all witnessing the Logan Howlett Renaissance

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - y/n jane porter (you) decides to prove men wrong by searching for the lost man, and you happen upon him after insulting a bunch of baboons, only to realise that you will never leave again.

warning - smut, dubcon, chase, marking, insulting animals, swearing, oral sex, creampie, kidnapping/held hostage?

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You huffed as you stalked the forest, searching for a man who had been lost to the world. Explorers have searched high and low for him but have yet to succeed. You were determined to be different, to prove to them that you could find the lost man. Secretly though, you knew he would be feral, not even knowing what a woman was and the pleasure you could bring him. You hiked up your light yellow dress, white-gloved hands scrunching the material between your fists. You spin when you hear a sound, looking up into the trees, and your eyes widen when you notice the many baboons staring down at you. 

“Oh, hello.” You look closer, squinting your eyes and scrunching your nose. “You’re quite ugly creatures, aren’t you?” You stumble back when they begin to screech, looking ready to attack, and you put your hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just…” Your words are lost to them, and you start running as some of them jump from the trees and chase you, the others swinging through the branches. You pick up your pace, dodging trees and rocks, trying your best not to trip or get caught. You feel your breath shorten, and your lungs burn. A scream escapes you as your foot gets caught on a root, but before you can fall, something or someone grabs you, swinging you away from the baboons. 

You screw your eyes shut, not daring to look at what had grabbed you, feeling it would be better if you didn’t see what fate had planned for you. Your brows scrunched as you felt whoever or whatever was placing you down softly, and your eyes widened when you opened them, noticing the man everyone had been searching for. The lost man had saved you from being torn to shreds, and the excitement caused a jolt between your legs. You scanned his physic, noticing how tanned and beautiful he looked. Your eyes landed on his face lastly, eyeing the moustache and imagining what it would feel like in between your thighs, his unbrushed hair all curled and wild, like him. 

Tangerine’s head tilts, doing the same to you. He was curious, never having seen someone like you before. He’s seen others that look like him, but none so… Beautiful, so soft looking. He licked his lips, scanning you like you were a meal for him to feast on. He glared when you lifted your hand, and you returned it with a soft smile. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you… I’m Y/n Jane Porter. Do you have a name?” Tangerine grunts, lifting his hand and cautiously placing it against yours, thinking of his words. You squeeze your legs together at his touch, causing his eyes to snap down to the sweet nectar that lies between your thighs. 

Tangerine’s hand moves from yours and taps his chest. “Tangerine.” Your eyes widen as the words fall from his lips, and you offer a soft smile.

“Like the fruit?” Your head tilts, knowing another name that would fit him. Tarzan stays on the tip of your tongue as you watch him.

He grunts again and stops, looking around before roughly grabbing you, causing a gasp to pass your lips. “Danger.” He growls. You are lifted onto the large man’s shoulders again as he begins to swing away just in time as the baboons swing, missing you by inches. Tangerine lands roughly on the ground. After a while of swinging and making sure you were no longer being followed, he lets you get off of him. You fall as your legs feel shaky, and you stumble back. He spins, eyeing you more, gazing at your exposed legs. 

You clear your throat, brushing the dirt from your dress. “Thank you again.” Your chest moves up and down as you breathe heavily. You try and keep your eyes from looking at the bulge hidden behind the tiny cloth. Tangerine’s eyes lock to your heaving chest. You watch as they become black, filling with feral lust. He stalks towards you, backing you into a tree. You feel your cunt pulse, the large man turning you on. “W–what are you doing?” You gulp, squeezing your thighs together when he traps you against the wood.

“Me do you.” Tangerine growls. He grabs your hips, dragging you onto the ground and climbing over you. “Stay… Still.” He grunts, trapping you with his large body and rubbing his bulge against your dripping cunt. Tangerine had never felt something so incredible, and he hadn’t even explored that far yet. He sits on his legs, looking down at you with dark eyes filled with lust and hunger, growling as your dress becomes annoying. Tangerine grips the material, shredding it and causing you to squeal and squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself clench around nothing. “Annoying” You don’t know why, but this feral man's few words turn you on. 

You whimper, subconsciously spreading your legs for him, watching his mouth open and close as he glares between your legs, watching your pretty pussy drip. Tangerine growls as he dives in, lapping at your sweet cunt. Your back arches, and you let out a scream that echoes through the many trees. Your hands curl into the ground, legs slamming shut around his head as he continues to feast on your cunt, licking and sucking, wrapping his lips around your swollen pearl and sucking, flicking the sensitive little bud with his tongue. You move your hand into his hair, gripping the untamed locks, pulling him closer. “O–Oh! That feels so good!” You exclaim, feeling the band inside you tighten, ready to snap. “Keep going, please!” Your eyes screw shut, and your toes curl, but suddenly everything stops, and you open them again. “What are you doing? Why did you stop?” You felt furious, sexually frustrated. This was the most pleasure you had felt in your entire life, and you couldn’t let it slip from your fingertips. 

Tangerine growls and your eyes widen when you watch him grab himself. The tiny cloth has tented massively and keeps nothing hidden. He rips the pathetic material from his body and throws it aside, tilting his head as you make an embarrassingly loud choking sound. You look at him and back to his cock repeatedly, staring with your mouth open. “That’s not going to fit inside me.” Even as you say those words, your walls clench as you watch his cock twitch. 

Tangerine grunts, shrugging. He crawls on top of you, forcefully placing your legs onto his shoulder and tapping your gaping hole with his swollen tip. “Fit.” You gasp as he begins to push in, his hair covering his face as he puts his head down, never having felt something so good. “Good” The grunt he lets out causes you to clench around him and his hips to thrust forward, forcing his way deeper inside you. Your head rolls back into the dirt, closing your eyes as he picks up his pace, releasing the animal buried deep inside of him. Tangerine slams hard and fast into you, his cock so large it feels like he’s in your stomach. If possible, the bulge that forms causes him to become even more feral.

Your hands fly up and grip his arms, digging your nails into him before whimpering when he pulls out and flips you around, pushing your face into the dirt and lifting your hips before plunging back into you, grunting and growling as he fucks you like an animal. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes roll back, clawing into the ground and clutching onto it, trying to find something to ground yourself too. Tangerine grips your hips, pounding against you, moaning when he feels you grip his cock like a vice, dragging him deeper into you and allowing him to hit your sweet spot repeatedly. “Ah! Oh! Fuck… Right there!” You whine, fucking and grinding your hips back into him, wanting to feel him more. 

Tangerine pulls out again, your mind too fuzzy to get angry as he grabs you and pushes you against the tree, wrapping your legs around his waist and reentering your sweet cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucks up into you, his lips against your neck, marking you as his. You are so close, feeling your walls pulsate and clench around the feral man, feeling so dirty and full. “I–I’m close!” Tangerine grunts, slamming harder into you, pinning you against the tree, not caring if the bark marks your flesh. Your vision goes white, and your body goes slack in his arms as your orgasm rips through you, squeezing his cock and coating it with your cream.

A growl rips through the large man. Tangerine bites into your shoulder, fucking deeper as he feels his balls tighten. He had only experienced this when he’d touch himself, teasing his cock and balls until he was close to cumming before stopping and repeating. He knew the release would feel amazing, causing him to continue to thrust, his hand moving between your bodies, locating your swollen, sensitive clit and rubbing. Your back arches, causing another orgasm to rip through you, and Tangerine groans, releasing his cum deep inside you, filling you with thick amounts as you squeeze his cock.

Your head slumps against his chest, your chest moving up and down heavily as you try and catch your breath. Your walls pulsate around his still-hard cock, wondering how he could still be ready for more. Tangerine cups the back of your neck, grunting as he makes you look at him. He grins, leaning close as he slowly begins to thrust again. “Mine.” 

The growl can still be heard as you realise you will never be able to leave again, but maybe that was a good thing.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[writingwrench]

Confession (Stanford x Reader)

 I hope y’all enjoy! If you want me to write another or you have a suggestion, hit me up!

 Stanford glanced at the photo of the cheerful woman on his desk. She had this immutable, meanderous personality that he’d fallen hard for.

 Ever since they were younger, he’d had a type of respect for her enthusiastic and bubbly personality. Ever since high school (maybe even before then) he’d acquired an officious fervor for her. He didn’t really know how to tell her for fear of provoking some kind of rancor. 

 Even so, he ventured from his basement in search of his parsimonious heretic of a brother....

 “Stanley?” he asked,shutting the vending machine door. The twin was found sitting at the register, counting his day’s winnings.

 “Hey,bro!” he said, sea-tanned face splitting into a grin.

 “I need help,” Ford muttered,pulling a chair over to the counter and sitting down. 

 Stan set the money down,giving his brother his full attention. It wasn’t like him to ever ask for help. Even when they were on the Stan-O-War II.

 “I....I have feelings for (Y/N)....” he awkwardly began,hoping Stanley would understand. 

 Slowly, Stan began to smirk,before full acclaim filled the room. 

 “Finally, you admit it. It’s been over thirty years!” he laughed. Ford’s face was set aflame. He knew his brother wasn’t being callous, but he still felt somewhat ashamed for him to take this long to bring up the gall to tell her.

   Seeing Ford’s impression of a tomato, Stanley laughed again quietly,before,”Look,Poindexter, just go out there,hike up your big boy panties,  and tell her. She feels the same way...even though I don’t really understand, I am the better looking twin!” He grinned,winking. Which earned him an eye-roll from Ford.

 Still unsure, Ford, paused before the door, before Stan got fed up and just pushed him out to where (Y/N) was sitting with Dipper and Mabel. 

 “-I’m trying to nail that quack reporter for his actions,” She was saying. Stanford didn’t really understand what kind of conversation  he’d managed to walk into, but just hearing her voice, he’d instantly felt relieved. 

 “Hey, (N/N)?” he asked, nervousness seeping into his pores.

 “Hey, Ford!” she smiled brightly,turning to him. He stared at her for a moment, lost in her (E/C) eyes, before the awkward silence was broken by the angel he’d fell in love with.

 “What’s up?” she asked, not at all perturbed by the awkward silence. (She’d gotten used to it fairly quickly since Ford himself was such a cute, awkward person.)

 “I....um...I have to confess something,” he stuttered out, not meeting her eye for fear of peeing himself. He didn’t understand. He could take on demons and other horrifying creatures, but with a mere glance from (Y/N),his knees would buckle and he’d be a total loss for words.

 The girl raised a brow, signaling for him to continue....so he did.

 “I want...um...I would love.. gah,screw it! I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!!” he yelled,startling (Y/N) and the younger twins.

 It was quiet until- “OH MY GOSH,GRUNKLE FORD!!!!!”

 (Y/N)’s face tinted pink.

 “Kids,” she said shakily,”Please give us some privacy.”

 They did as told, making their way to the house. It wasn’t long before she saw two heads pop up over the window sill. 

 Rolling her eyes and grinning, she rushed over to Ford,tackling him in a fierce hug. They both landed with a thud,before surprised giggles filled the air.

 “I love you too,Ford,” (Y/N) said, still grinning before pulling him to her by the front of his overcoat. Their lips met. The kiss was sweet and passionate, the  both of them marveling at how long it took for them to get to this point.

 They disconnected, resting their foreheads on each other’s shoulder, and quietly grinning.

 “(Y/N), I’m so sorry it took me so long,” Ford finally said,breaking the silence.

 He was met with another kiss.

 “It’s alright,you dork,” she said, still grinning.

 It may have taken forever, but she finally felt truly wanted.

[oizysian]

XI. LET HER GO

Word count: 1.1k

All Eyes on Me masterlist

•

CELEB NEWS

Elizabeth Olsen was spotted, once again, on a 'date' with the mysterious Y/N. Olsen, 33, is married to Milo Greene band member Robbie Arnett, who was in Los Angeles at the time.

Olsen and Y/N were seen getting chummy at an ice cream parlor in New York City.

Not much is known about Y/N, as she seems to be very private despite being an Internet personality. She seems to get along well with the Marvel actress and her co-stars, as Y/N was also spotted hanging out with Brie Larson, better known as Captain Marvel.

•

"Shit."

I bit my lip as I read and re-read the article, again and again as if it would magically change before my eyes. Now, this was bad.

I sat in silence, staring at my phone clenched tightly in my hand. We really fucked up this time. I really fucked up this time.

Maybe if I just ignored it, it would go away, cease to exist, disappear.

My phone vibrated, a text message appearing at the top of my screen. Brie, obviously having seen the article, and god knows how many others, wanted to know what was going on. No wonder she was confused, I had been so adamant about keeping my relationship with Lizzie strictly platonic, that now that the lines were blurred, publically, I had a lot of explaining to do.

I scratched my head in frustration, hoping the sensation of my nails against my scalp would distract me from yet another mess I got myself into. Why did I have to go and screw everything up?

It's just a misunderstanding.

I finally replied to her, and it was true. It hadn't been a date and the flirting had just been innocent fun between friends. Now to explain this to everyone else.

What did it matter what the world thought anyway? Lizzie and I both knew what was going on. Rumors and gossip just came with the territory and it was something I had to get used to.

My phone went dim with inactivity and I sighed. I should be talking to Lizzie about this. She was the married one - she was the one who had the most to lose. Her marriage, her reputation was all at stake here.

The ringing of my phone caused me to nearly jump straight out of my skin. I took a deep breath and checked who it was before answering.

Lizzie.

Shit, shit, shit, okay, I could do this.

I cleared my throat and picked up, waiting a beat before finally speaking.

"Hello?"

"Y/N," she was crying. "We need to talk."

"Lizzie," I was panicking now. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Robbie and I had a fight."

I swallowed roughly, my stomach turning at her words. I could feel the bile of sick rising up my throat as I processed her words.

It was all my fault.

"Lizzie, I-I'm sorry." I was silent as she cried on the line. "I'm sorry."

"I told him we're just friends, but he doesn't believe me."

Of course he doesn't. He would have to be an idiot to ignore the signs of an affair, even an emotional one. But, we weren't having an affair of any kind. We were just very friendly with each other.

"I don't know what to do." I felt helpless.

"Just ... just talk to me."

"Okay." I breathed in. "I can do that. I can talk."

She let out a small, broken chuckle and I couldn't help my heart fluttering at the sound. Even at a time like this, I could still make her laugh - even if unintentionally.

"Where are you?"

"I'm home. I got home yesterday." She sniffled. "I just can't believe he won't listen to me."

"Give it time. You didn't do anything wrong." Right?

"But, it looked wrong. And now my husband doesn't trust me."

The sick that built up in my throat nearly shot out at the severity of her words. I was ruining her marriage by playing games with her. I couldn't do this. I couldn't hurt her like this.

"Lizzie ..." I could feel the tears burning the corners of my eyes, like pinpricks. "I need to go."

"What?" She sounded so small, so hurt.

"I don't think you want to ruin your marriage over someone like me."

"W-what? Y/N, no don't do this, please -!"

"Goodbye, Elizabeth. It's better this way. I promise you'll be happier."

"No, no, Y/N!"

I hung up. I couldn't bare to hear her like that, knowing it was all my fault and that I caused such trouble between her and Robbie. We were just friends. We were.

I brought up my text messages, tapping quickly on Brie's name and typing.

I'm an idiot. I was foolish to think I could be someone special to her. I was foolish to put myself in this position. I ended it. She needs her husband more than she needs me.

It sounded as if we were having an affair. God, it did look bad. I needed time to myself. I needed to get high. I had to forget everything and make all the pain and suffering go away, just for a little while.

What have you done?

I ignored the incoming call from Lizzie, letting it ring until it went to voicemail. I could do this all day if I had to.

I let her go.

My phone rang again, this time it was Brie.

"Hel-"

"What happened?" She cut me off, getting straight to the point.

"We were seen in an ice cream shop -"

"Yeah, I know that part."

I ignored her.

"- and now Robbie thinks she's having an affair."

"Isn't she?"

"No! She-she's not! She didn't do anything wrong."

"But you did?"

"Yes." My voice was small and broken.

"What did you do that she didn't?"

"I ..." What did I do? I wasn't even sure anymore. "I made her -"

"You made her what? See that you're a great, fun person to be around? That maybe you're someone she could trust?"

"It's all 'maybes', Brie!" I was tired. So tired. "Maybe I was just a fun little distraction - who knows!"

"Y/N, you're upset. I get that. But, pushing her away isn't the answer."

"Then what is?! What could be the solution to this fucked up mess?”

"Talking things out."

"I don't want to talk. I want it to go away."

"You're an idiot if you leave it like this." She warned, and I knew she was right. But, Elizabeth's happiness meant more to me than my own.

"Then I'm an idiot."

•

@oh-thats-cute @marvelwomen-simp @dorabledewdroop @scarlie-johalsen-blog @annie-ahmelia

[fxllfaiiry]

─ hits different 'cause it's you

★ pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

★ summary: spencer reid is used to being called pretty boy by everyone ─ everyone but you.

★ warnings: fluff, spencer and the reader acting like lovesick teens, co-workers to lovers, the team teasing spencer.

★ notes: I had this saved in my drafts for a long time and finally thought why not post it?? please don't mind any errors, english is not my first language.

Spencer Reid likes a lot of things. He likes books, he likes jello, but most importantly, he likes you. He could talk about you for hours, in fact, if he was given the chance to, he would. Spencer was mesmerized by everything you did, he was hopelessly, utterly, in love with you.

“Pretty boy, what are you dreaming about?” Derek’s voice jolted him out of his bubble, he looked around embarrassed remembering he was in fact surrounded by his co-workers. Everyone in the jet turned to look at him, everyone including you. Sitting next to you was making him nervous.

“Um, nothing. I was just thinking about, stuff?” He somehow magically managed to stutter out a full sentence under your gaze, god he felt pathetic.

“Reid, are you asking us or telling us?” Hotch asked looking amused.

Spencer could feel your gaze set on him, he really hoped you couldn't see how red his cheeks are. “I - I’m telling you, yeah.” How was the smartest person in the room suddenly, the dumbest?

“Come on, give pretty boy a break,” Rossi smiled. Rossi had a sixth sense when it comes to these things, he knew about Spencer’s feelings from day one, it was obvious to almost everyone, but of course not to you.

You were equally in love with him, but you would never tell Spencer that, you couldn't bare the rejection. If only you knew how smitten he was with you. You stared at his face, marvelling at how pretty he looked, oh how you would kill for those lips to be on yours.

“Was pretty boy dreaming about a pretty girl?” Emily teased. What? No. Picturing Spence with other girls made you want to throw up. If you were paying more attention rather than drowning in jealousy, you’d have noticed Spencer’s eyes darting towards you.

“Come on pretty boy, tell us who the girl is.” Curiosity was killing you, who was the lucky lady that caught Spencer Reid’s eye?

Spencer froze, you called him pretty boy? He isn't used to that at all, you usually call him Spence or boy genius, but never pretty boy. ‘Please call me that again,’ he thought to himself.

“You think I’m pretty?” The question slipped past his lips before he could stop himself. That was everyone’s queue to stop listening, they all rushed back into their conversations wanting to give you guys some privacy.

“What? Of course, I think you’re pretty, Spence.” Where did this come from all of a sudden? You thought he was the prettiest boy, you would tell him that every day if you had to.

“I mean - It’s just you never call me that…” He tried to hide his nervous state by letting out a chuckle. He almost felt sad, why didn't you call him pretty boy? He wants to be your pretty boy desperately.

You on the other hand had no idea why you didn't call him that. Note: call Spencer Reid pretty boy more often.

“Well, I’m sorry, I’ll call you pretty boy more often if you want?” Where did that sudden wave of confidence come from?

“Oh, I would like that,” Spencer mumbled. He tried to keep the smile off his face but it was useless. This feeling was better than reading with his cardigan on, on a cosy rainy day.

“You’re the prettiest boy I know, Spence. My pretty boy.” The last part was so quiet Spencer would’ve missed it if he wasn't paying attention, but fortunately, he’s always paying attention to you.

“I think you’re the prettiest too.” The two of you were acting like love-sick teenagers, but what the hell, screw that.

“Would you like to go on a date with me once we get back, Spence?” You were beaming, after years of waiting, you finally got what you wanted, and the new surge of confidence certainly helped.

“I’d love that.”

bonus !

“Garcia owes me 20 bucks” Derek whispered watching the scene unfold.

[jamminvroomvroom]

Sylvie finding out you are having a boy and not a girl

surpise

GR63 x journo!reader

drabble from the the george fic universe

thank you for the request! obsessed with all of the ideas you guys have sent since i posted the last drabble 🥹

warnings: none! fluff, kids, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader, dad!george, minors pls dni with my work!

“sylvie? we have a surprise for you.”

you opened your arms and your daughter came running towards you, wrapping her little arms around you. she pressed a delicate kiss to your growing bump, just as she always did, the little girls way of showing love.

“what is it, mummy?” she looked up at you with her big blue eyes, inquisitive as ever.

“well, my love,” george started, picking sylvie up. she wrapped her arms around her father, clinging to him. “do you want to know if you’re having a brother or a sister?”

“but… but i thought you asked the stork to bring me a sister.” she tilted her head in confusion, adorably perplexed. you smiled at her innocence.

“i think the stork wanted you to have a little brother, baby.” you cooed. her face screwed up even further.

“but i don’t want a brother.” sylvie looked, well, to put it plainly, pissed.

“unfortunately, you don’t get to choose, sylv.” george told her, sticking his tongue out to make her laugh. when she didn’t laugh, you knew you had a problem on your hands.

“sylvie, it doesn’t matter, darling. you’re still gonna have a new best friend that loves you so much.” you soothed. it was hard getting a child to understand the complexities of anything, let alone this.

“so, it has to be a brother?” the little girl sighed. you and george nodded your heads. “okay, fine.” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

you smiled, seeing the teenager grow in her already, and she was only five. you dreaded her growing out of this sweet, marvellous, little icon, but cherished every second you got to watch her grow.

-

that night, after you’d tucked in your young sleeping beauty, you curled up on the sofa with your husband. george’s hand rested on your belly, stroking soft circles into your taut skin.

“she took it better than i thought she would.” george reasoned. he was right, you’d both been expecting tears.

“she’s gonna be a great big sister.” you whispered, welling up at the idea of her being older, growing up too fast right before your very eyes.

“oh, sweetheart. i know it’s hard. but you know what?” george looked down at you as he spoke, gazing at you with every fibre of love you felt for each other.

“what?” you choked.

“she has the best mum who taught her how to love. even though she might not want a brother, she’ll still love him unconditionally. a bit like when you didn’t want to love me and now look at us.” his words were soft, teasing at the end and you couldn’t help but giggle.

george pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and you snuggled deeper into his side, your little boy kicking away.

“jesus, george, with the way this little guy moves his feet, he’s gonna be an f1 driver.” you huffed, rubbing over the spot where butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

“and what’s sylvie gonna be, hm?”

“sylvie? oh, she’s gonna rule the world.”

[kckt88]

Three Breaths, One Heart.

Summary:

Vaeryna and Aemond continue to enjoy their 'monthly arrangment' with Aegon, until tragedy strikes.

Warning(s): Language, Exploring, Questionable use of the Iron Throne, Kissing, Incest, Smut - F/M/M, Oral Sex (M Receiving), P in V Sex, Cuts, Blood, After Care.

T.W - Miscarriage, Grief, Mouring!!!

A. N - I wanted to try something a little different with my writing.

Word Count: - 3279

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

SEQUEL ONE-SHOT TO THREE HEARTS, ONE BREATH.

AEMOND X O.C & AEGON X O.C

“I’m not entirely sure of your loyalty” mused Aegon.

“Oh, Your Grace I’m loyal-I-I swear” gasped Vaeryna.

“I see you already on your knees my sweet-but I have yet to be convinced” replied Aegon.

“P-Please, l-let me s-show you” moaned Vaeryna.

“-And how are you going to do that?” asked Aegon pursing his lips.

“M-My m-mouth on your cock” panted Vaeryna screwing her eyes shut.

“A most unusual way of pledging one’s loyalty, but I shall allow it” said Aegon.

“A-Aemond, gods-“ moaned Vaeryna.

“Please your King and suck his cock ābrazȳrys” breathed Aemond (Wife).

Vaeryna moved her hands from the floor and reached forward, quickly undoing the laces on Aegon’s breeches, his cock already straining against the fabric.

“Y-Yes Aemond-please” whimpered Vaeryna as she pressed her face against Aegon’s leg.

“I won’t tell you again Issa byka perzys” ordered Aemond (My little fire).

Vaeryna took a deep breath and took Aegon’s cock from his breeches and wrapped her warm, wet mouth over the already glistening head.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aegon quietly his fingers digging painfully into the metal of the Iron Throne.

“Good girl-“ exclaimed Aemond his large hands grasping her hips.

Vaeryna moaned loudly around Aegon’s cock, as Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

“Gods” groaned Aegon, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he slowly thrust back and forth.

Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from Vaeryna’s warm wet entrance. He marvelled at her perfect mother’s body.

Such a beautiful, delicious thing his wife was. Allowing him and his brother entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, plunging his cock into her cunny over and over, thrilling to hear Vaeryna’s moans of need echoing around the throne room.

Bracing her hands against Aegon’s thighs, she pushed against Aemond so he could shove his cock in. Harder and faster.

“J-Just a little more” moaned Aegon, his eyes rolling into the back of head.

The pleasure was indescribable, Vaeryna’s mouth around his cock as his brother fucked her from behind.

Gods this arrangement between them was better than anything he’d ever imagined.

Aemond felt his stones draw in; his peak was approaching. He snaked a hand around Vaeryna’s body and played with her clitoris, plucking it with his fingers.

“Oh gods” moaned Vaeryna as her whole-body began to shake.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond, his thrusts starting to jerk.

He was close. So very close.

Vaeryna screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Aemond’s own peak nearly took him off his feet. The sensation took over his body as he spilled rope after rope of his seed, he had no recollection of what he did or said for the good minute it took for his peak to crest, then subside.

Seeing his brother reach his peak was enough to send Aegon over the edge, as he thrust his hips forward and spilled his seed in Vaeryna’s mouth.

His naughty little dragon gazed up at him, her eyes locked with his as she swallowed every drop.

“Issa gevie nūmio” muttered Aegon as he withdrew his softened cock from Vaeryna’s mouth and tucked it back inside his breeches (My beautiful pearl).

“Rather bold to suggest doing this in the throne room Your Grace” said Aemond as he withdrew from Vaeryna and pulled her skirts over her exposed lower half.

“I have my moments” replied Aegon as he gently ran his fingers through Vaeryna’s messy silver tresses.

“I just hope mother doesn’t find out-“ muttered Aemond as he tucked himself back inside his breeches and then stood up.

“What’s the worst she could say, I’ve always been a disappointment to her-so it would be like water off a ducks back” said Aegon shrugging.

“Your not a disappointment” whispered Vaeryna wincing as she tried to stand up.

“I-Is everything ok my love?” asked Aemond reaching out to grasp Vaeryna gently.

“I cut my knees on the floor” said Vaeryna.

“Let me see” muttered Aemond as he helped his wife slowly manoeuvre into a sitting position.

“It’s really not that bad” said Vaeryna as she pulled up her skirts.

“Knees cut open and covered in blood but it’s not that bad she says” muttered Aemond.

“Are you in pain?” asked Aegon as Vaeryna leaned back against his legs.

“Just stings a little” replied Vaeryna.

“You should have told me-If I knew you were hurt, I wouldn’t have carried on” mumbled Aemond his cheeks tinged pink.

“A little pain enhances the pleasure, besides it’s not that bad and it was totally worth it”.

“My wife-always the optimist” said Aemond smiling.

“Mayhaps we should head back to your chambers; the guards will be back soon” said Aegon.

“Ready to stand up?” asked Aemond.

“As I’ll ever be” laughed Vaeryna.

Aemond looped his arms around his wife’s smaller body and quickly pulled her to her feet, his heart clenching at the sound of her gasping in pain.

“Maybe we should rethink this whole Iron Throne sex thing” mused Aegon.

“What? No-just get cushions” replied Vaeryna smiling.

Aegon and Aemond looked at one another before they burst out laughing.

Vaeryna was truly a gift from the gods.

“He hit me-“

“-No he hit me first”

“Mama play-“

“If you could just wait a moment my sweet” replied Vaeryna.

“-But mama, look” said Aegar clapping his tiny hands together.

“Stop sitting near me-“

“-You stop looking at me”

“Both of you stop this falling out” said Vaeryna grimacing slightly as a dull aching sensation radiated across her stomach.

“But mama-“

“Saeryna, I hope you’re not collecting spiders to put in your grandmothers tea” said Vaeryna.

“No mother” replied Saeryna innocently.

“Stop pushing your brother’s face into the mud” urged Vaeryna placing a hand on her stomach.

“Oh, gross-Mama Caelee is trying to eat worms”.

“P-please just-all of you-” exclaimed Vaeryna as she collapsed to the ground.

“MAMA”

“Get father-“

“MAMA-WAKE UP”

“DADDY”

Vaeryna wanted to reassure her children that she was fine, but she couldn’t the stabbing pain in her stomach was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

“VAERYNA”

Suddenly there was a flurry activity and soon the children were huddled together looking fearful as their father bent down towards their mother who was still laying face first on the ground.

“Mama fell down” said Caelee.

“Ryna-my love” whispered Aemond as he gently rolled her over onto her back.

“Is she going to be ok?” asked Aerys nervously.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine” whispered Daenerys.

“Mayhaps we should get the children inside” mused Aegon the Younger.

“Ser Colton-will you escort the children to my mother”.

“Yes, Your Grace-come along children” said Ser Colton firmly.

“I don’t want to leave mama” sobbed Caelee.

“You heard the King-let the Maester’s help your mother” said Jaehaera.

“S-She kept holding her tummy-“ muttered Aerys.

“Mama poorly-“ said Aegar.

“I-Is that blood?” asked Aemond as Vaeryna began whimpering.

“Get the children inside. NOW” roared Aegon.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MUNKUN” shouted Aemond.

“He’s on his way-“ replied Aegon.

Vaeryna couldn’t think of anything except the pain, gods it was like her insides were being twisted upon themselves, she felt a warm wetness between her legs and began sobbing.

“A-Aemond” cried Vaeryna grasping mindlessly in the air for her husband.

“I’m here-it’s ok” replied Aemond softly as he took her hand.

“Hurts” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“Where Issa dōna?” asked Aemond (My sweet).

“M-My stomach-“ cried Vaeryna as another sharp pain shot across her stomach.

“Aemond-the Maester’s here” said Aegon.

“It’s about fucking time” snarled Aemond.

Vaeryna opened her eye’s slightly and saw Aegon talking in rapid hushed tones with the Maester, he kept looking over his shoulder and Aemond refused to let go of her hand.

“Let’s get her moved inside, my Prince, could you perhaps carry her to your chambers”.

“I’m going to lift you up now Ryna. Can you put your arms around my neck-that’s it, hold on” urged Aemond softly.

Vaeryna’s head lolled against Aemond’s shoulder as he carried her though the corridors of the Red Keep.

The mattress was soft beneath her, the candle lights flickered and the fire crackled.

Aemond was pacing the chambers with Aegon hovering quietly in the corner. The Maester was doing something between her legs, it didn’t feel good, but she couldn’t make sense of it, every sensation was dull, voices were muffled, and her eyes were heavy.

Vaeryna couldn’t feel her legs, but she could feel her fingers, she wanted Aemond. She wanted her husband.

“A-A-Aemond” whispered Vaeryna.

“I’m here my sweet-I’m here” said Aemond as he knelt beside the bed and took her hand.

“What happened?” asked Vaeryna, her voice small and weak.

“The Maester is just trying to figure that out my love-just rest now”.

“My Prince” said Maester Munkun.

“I’ll be back in a second-“ whispered Aemond as he pressed a kiss to Vaeryna’s hand and slowly rose from her bedside.

“-The Princess was with child”.

“Was?” asked Aegon quietly.

“Unfortunately, she has suffered a miscarriage” replied Maester Munkun.

“What caused it?” asked Aemond.

“We don’t know the exact causes of such things my Prince” replied Maester Munkun.

“H-How far was she?” asked Aemond quietly.

“It was early my Prince” whispered Maester Munkun.

“W-Will she be ok?” asked Aemond.

“Physically yes, she’s in good health and there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be able to carry another child in the future but mentally-that will come with time, I’ve given her some milk of the poppy to help with the pain, it should lull her too sleep, but call me if she needs more” replied the Maester.

Vaeryna turned to look at Aemond and Aegon who were talking to the Maester, their voices still muffled but she heard the word ‘miscarriage’, she slowly moved a hand to her stomach and quietly sobbed, her heart breaking for the lost babe.

As Vaeryna closed her eyes, she saw a glimpse of silver and amethyst, a son with his father’s sharp features and her smile, fading into darkness.

“Jurnegon tolī zirȳla muña” whispered Vaeryna (Look after him mother).

“I’ll come back on the morrow to check on her, but she needs to rest and drink plenty of water” urged Maester Munkun.

“Sōvegon issa byka zaldrīzes” (Fly my little dragon).

“Thank you Maester” muttered Aemond.

“I’m sorry for your loss my Prince”.

Aemond gave a sharp nod as the Maester left his chambers, leaving him, Aegon and Vaeryna alone.

“Aemond” muttered Vaeryna, her hand running along the empty space on the bed.

“I’m here” replied Aemond.

“I-I didn’t even know that I was with child” muttered Vaeryna.

“It’s ok my love-just rest” urged Aemond as he once again knelt beside the bed.

“W-Will you hold me?” asked Vaeryna.

“Always” whispered Aemond as he quickly removed his leather jerkin and his boots and climbed onto the bed.

Vaeryna immediately sought comfort in his arms, as she pressed her face against his chest and began sobbing.

“I’ll leave you two alone” muttered Aegon.

“N-Not yet-will you hold me too-just until I fall asleep”

“Of course,” replied Aegon as he laid on the bed behind Vaeryna and placed an arm across her waist.

“I-I didn’t know” muttered Vaeryna.

“It’s ok my love-just rest” urged Aemond.

“I-I’m sorry” whimpered Vaeryna.

“It’s not your fault Issa dōna” (My sweet).

“M-my tummy hurts” muttered Vaeryna.

“Shhhh-sleep now” whispered Aemond.

“Aerion-“

“What?” asked Aemond.

“The babes name” replied Vaeryna closing her eyes as sleep finally claimed her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Aemond finally asked the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind, since the Maester had told them that Vaeryna had been with child.

“Who’s do you think?” asked Aemond.

“Don’t even think it-the babe was yours, I cannot sire children remember” replied Aegon.

“But what if-“

“No-brother, the babe wasn’t mine. I know it, deep in my heart. Although I do grieve this loss with you” muttered Aegon.

“Do you think she’ll be ok?”

“She’s stronger than she thinks-but what about you“ replied Aegon.

“Me?” asked Aemond.

“You lost a babe too-the loss is not hers alone” said Aegon as he took hold of his brother’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“But she is the one in pain-and bleeding and-“ muttered Aemond his voice wobbling.

“Physical pain and emotional pain are as equal as they need to be” said Aegon.

“I-I just-how can I feel sad for something I didn’t even know I had until it lost it”

“Even though you’re a massive twat, you’re not made of stone-you can grieve the loss too” said Aegon.

Aemond hesitated for a moment, before he broke into silent sobs. His face pressed into Vaeryna’s neck.

“You are relieved of your duties for the next few days-take the time to be there for one another” said Aegon quietly.

“But-“ argued Aemond.

“No-it’s by order of the King and you will do as commanded” replied Aegon.

“Thank you-brother” replied Aemond.

Eventually Aemond too succumbed to sleep, his arms still wrapped around his wife.

Aegon pressed a gentle kiss to Vaeryna’s shoulder and then gracefully retreated, closing the door with a soft click.

“No one is to disturb them unless it’s absolutely necessary, only the children and my mother are to visit” ordered Aegon.

“Yes, Your Grace” replied the guard.

“I mean it-anyone who defies me will find themselves a head shorter” said Aegon firmly before he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, the tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

For the next few days Vaeryna slept, lulled into the world of dreams by milk of the poppy.

Her children would visit often, Saeryna picked her flowers and Vharla read her favourite book, Aerys stood mute by his mother’s bedside staring at her sleeping form unable to form words, so he took her hand and held it gently. Caelee pressed a wet kiss to her mother cheek and Aegar fell asleep with his face pressed into her neck.

Jaehaeryn also wasn’t able to form words, the normally brash and talkative boy had been struck silent by his mother’s anguish. Jaehaera and Daenerys each took turns to comb her silver hair and Rhaegar spent hours sitting by his mother’s bedside.

Alicent would visit, clutching her seven pointed star necklace and muttering words of comfort and prayer.

Aegon drowned himself in wine and Aemond never left his wife’s side.

Maester Munkun made regular visits and assured Aemond repeatedly that his wife was healing as predicted, so he began lowering the dosage of milk of the poppy and Vaeryna slowly came back to the world.

Granted her mind was a little fuzzy at first, which according to the Maester was a common side effect of milk of the poppy but slowly the mind fog cleared, and she remembered.

The emotional pain of losing their babe, came in waves. But Aemond was there, he was always there. His hand never leaving hers, his arms always a comfort.

It was Aemond and their children who dulled the pain, it was their care, it was their love, and it was their existence.

Aegon eventually resurfaced from his wine, albeit reluctantly but what else was he supposed to do when Vaeryna had charged into his chambers one day with a crazed look in her eyes and slapped the shit out of him.

“I wanted you there, why weren’t you there?” screamed Vaeryna.

“The babe was Aemond’s, you didn’t need me” replied Aegon.

“Your wrong, I did need you and so did Aemond, I thought you loved us”.

“I do love you” muttered Aegon.

“Got a funny way of showing it-Did you call for your whores?”

“No-I haven’t been with them since before our arrangement began” replied Aegon.

“Aemond is my husband, I love him with every piece of my heart and soul, but I love you too, and when I woke up, everyone was there but you” muttered Vaeryna.

“I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to upset you”.

“Aside from kicking the shit out of you, there was another reason for my visit” said Vaeryna.

“Ok-“ replied Aegon as he slumped backwards on the sofa.

“I-I thought I was done having children-but losing the babe has evoked a longing deep within me” said Vaeryna firmly.

“-Right?” questioned Aegon.

“I wish to have another babe-not right now, mayhaps in half a year I’ll be ready, but I just thought you should know” replied Vaeryna.

“Have you spoke to Aemond?”

“Yes, we talked at length last night. Once were both ready to start trying, we would need to adjust our arrangement” said Vaeryna.

“So, were not going to be together anymore?”

“Well, I know you were told you can’t sire anymore children but I don’t want to risk it, and obviously I can’t take moontea so it’s probably for the best that you-“

Aegon could feel his heart breaking at Vaeryna’s words, with his brother or his good sister he wasn’t sure how he was going to cope.

“-Avoid my cunny-at least for a while” said Vaeryna.

“Wait. What?”

“Don’t stick your cock in my cunny, as I’ll need Aemond’s seed to take root” said Vaeryna.

“You do remember how scarily fertile my brother is right? His seed should have no trouble planting itself within you” muttered Aegon.

“Either that or we’re just very compatible when it comes to being fruitful” retorted Vaeryna.

“So, no cunny just other places?” asked Aegon.

“Other places” nodded Vaeryna.

“I’m sorry for making you think I didn’t care about you or Aemond and what you went through”.

“You’re here now and maybe I’m sorry for slapping you” muttered Vaeryna.

“Don’t be-I like it” said Aegon smirking.

“Well, now that I’ve told you our plans for the future, how about you drag your arse into the gardens and spend time with your niece” suggested Vaeryna.

“You know me and Saeryna are a dangerous combination, right? That girls a bad influence on me” said Aegon.

“Right because it was her idea to put spiders in your mothers tea, or manure in Ser Criston’s boots, and surely your not suggesting that my daughter is capable of setting frogs lose in the kitchens” snarked Vaeryna.

“What can I say, the girl has a creative mind-Of course she needs the right person to nurture such a thing” said Aegon.

“-And that person, is you?”

“If the boot fits” replied Aegon smiling.

“Gods the realm is defiantly doomed” muttered Vaeryna.

“I heard that-“

“-I meant you too” huffed Vaeryna as she turned on her heel and left Aegon standing in the middle of his chambers with a stinging left cheek and a need to cause mischief.

Good job Saeryna was already in the gardens, perhaps the target of today’s mischief could either be his mother or Ser Criston.

Smiling to himself Aegon made his way to the gardens, the sounds of laughter echoing around the corridor.

“Uncle” shrieked Saeryna.

“Up for some fun little one?” asked Aegon.

“Yes” nodded Saeryna.

“Good-your grandmother has been quite miserable lately, let’s cheer her up” said Aegon.

“What are you two planning?” asked Aemond.

“N-Nothing” replied Aegon trying to hide his smile.

“Make sure you keep it that way” quipped Aemond.

“Now where’s the best place for worms?”

As Aegon helped Saeryna look for worms, he caught sight of Vaeryna looking at him, her eyes narrowed slightly but a small smile graced her features.

These past few weeks had been difficult for everyone, but they would come through it together, as a family.

[nitpickrider]

a bit silly, but if you had to fill an Avengers roster, who would you pick?

Wooof, oh me oh my. Let's lay down some ground rules before I do this. 1). Only people who have been Avengers at some previous point in time. Doesn't narrow it down a LOT but this list would be a jigsaw of my favorite Z-Listers otherwise 2). Limiting it to seven people. That's the magic number with superhero teams and it gives me a reason to stop

Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America: Sometimes you just cannot beat a classic and when it comes to Avengers line ups there is no one that I think is more integral than Captain America. The pathos that he brings to the table no matter what character he is interacting with is palpable and reading through his first big volume has given me a deep respect and love for the character. He's our leader for sure, the axis of solid, steady service I can hang my weirder picks on.

Dr. Walter Newell AKA Stingray: You all saw this coming and don't act like you didn't. One of my favorite if not my FAVORITE Marvel Characters of all time. He's a doctor with an interesting specialization. His "I'm only a part time superhero" hangup is even funnier and more interesting if forced into the limelight on THE hero team. Not to mention he comes with his own swanky Hydrobase we can use for an HQ and with his wife and four kids running around underfoot we have the kind of domestic adorability I think any good team needs.

Miguel Santos AKA Living Lightning: The first time I can ever remember reading about a comic book hero being gay, as just like, part of who they are. A tiny detail in their rich inner life. Not to mention the less respect a character gets the more I want to lift them up on my shoulders. He could be the sweetheart with a little chip on his shoulder from not getting the respect his objectively awesome powers objectively deserve.

Angelica Jones AKA Firestar: Something you may not know about me. The first piece of media that really opened my eyes as to the potential and depth and scope of the Marvel Universe was Spiderman and His Amazing Friends. It was cheesy, it was cheap and yet Angelica was the first character that I felt SPECIAL for knowing and caring about. She's happy, she's passionate, her simple classic costume kicks ass and the New Warriors need their goddamn respect. 'Nuff said.

Sersi, Just Sersi: What little I have seen of this character fucking FASCINATES me. This woman is chaos incarnate. It's like she is actively making on the fly decisions with everyone she meets whether she's going to kill them, screw them, turn them into a small mammal or some combination of the three. She's *Instant Plot Complication Just Add Water* because she saw a butterfly and that somehow translates to her blowing the entire team's cover.

Dane Whitman AKA The Black Knight: I love everything about him. I love his vibe, I love the fact that his backstory is built partially around recontextualizing the lore of a mostly forgotten Atlas fantasy comic. I love that he has a wickedly evil cursed blade that comes with the side effect of basically holding him hostage to a heroic moral code. And on top of that he's a dorky intellectual who can't see a social cue if it's blaring at him from oncoming traffic.

Jennifer Walters AKA She-Hulk: ...I do not feel the need to explain or justify this choice. YOU know Jen is awesome. *I* know Jen is awesome. She-Hulk does not need justification. She shows up in stories and makes them better by existing. Also yes this is the bodytype I'd use. Yes, I have an addiction. No, I don't feel the need to explain that either. RESERVISTS: Characters I really like but either don't know enough about or don't think they make good Avengers

Marc Spector and System AKA Moon Knight: One of my favorite dudes but does NOT play well with others. Was interesting for about 10 seconds as a member of the West Coast team but I'd prefer he never touch the ranks again.

Flint Marko AKA Sandman: Marvel did Sandman fucking dirty by never letting him fully reform and be the good guy. I want Sandman to be the good guy dammit

Maria de Guadalupe Santiago AKA Silverclaw: I know literally nothing about her outside of reference books but her powers are dope and I dig her vibe.

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 8 - Evaluation

Evaluation (noun) 1. an act or instance of appraising 2. a diagnosis or diagnostic study of a physical or mental condition

Tags & Warnings: Mildy Sexual Tension, Abusive Behaviour

Alastor had sat down on your wing back chair, crossing his legs, cane twisting in his hands.

You had remained silent, sitting down on the bed, head dropped in shame, fingers tightly entwined and awaiting his scolding. With a swift gesture, his shadows swished over your room door, essentially a safety measure he always did when he didn't want to be disturbed, soundproofing the room and locking it.

Shit. Now it was serious.

“I must say, you've put on quite a show this morning, what a spectacle.”

Breathe. You didn't dare to say anything. You couldn't. There was no excuse. You shot a glace in his direction, his head was slightly tilted, watching you, predator eyeing prey. Your ears flattened on your head, twitching with anxiety. His long claws caressed the staff of his cane as it turned in his hands. Behind him, you thought you'd seen Ozul, nervously shifting around.

“Now, now, why are we looking like a cat on a hot tin roof?”

You lifted your eyes, barely. “I'm... I apologize for disappointing you, Alastor.”

“Disappointing me? Au contraire, I'm ecstatic, my dear, overjoyed even! What a fitting new power you've shown, it was a marvelous sight to see!”

Eyes wide, you sat yourself up a bit.

“You are... not angry with me?”

Alastor laughed, waving his hands and giving you a half-lidded, mocking smile. “Of course not. You've accomplished more with that little demonstration than I hoped for.”

He leaned forward, hands resting on his microphone. “Not only have you proven to be quite the enchanting performer – singing yourself right in the hearts of our lovely acquaintances with that sentimental ballad. You've also garnered much sympathy, for the both of us, might I add.”, his voice turned impishly gleeful. “Everyone was so worried after you fainted, a poor, little weak kitten – only to be rescued by her concerned employer, carrying her limp body to her room, not wanting to leave her side. Ah, what a display, you should've seen the looks on the princesses face!”, he chuckled darkly.

“It couldn't have gone better, even if I planned it.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. So he used the situation to manipulate it to his advantage... which was.. kind of a genius move. You might have screwed up, but it had also given him an opportunity to look like 'the good guy'. Huh.

“That's... good then...?”, you asked quietly, lifting your ears just a bit.

Alastor grinned, claws stretching over his microphone.

“Indeed, darling. Better than good.”

Better than good. The edges of your lips tightened into a faint, almost hidden smile.

You did better than good.

Thank fucking satan.

A sudden sound startled you, Alastor had risen from the chair and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you, grinning softly. He reached his hand out and without a second thought, you put your own in his. Your neck tingled hot when his fingers wrapped them around yours, lifting you up and pulling you gallantly into the middle of your room.

“Now, let's discuss that magnificent power of yours, my darling kitten.” He let go of your hand, rounding you while he spoke, tone low and suave – it sent shivers down your back, making your tail puff up slightly. Oh for the love of – get a grip of yourself!

“It seems your abilities harness their energy from your emotions. Which puts you in quite a conundrum. We both know how protective you are of them, aren't you?”

His fingers brushed lightly over your neck, redness shooting up instantly. You nodded, focusing on calming yourself. But it felt so nice...

“As much as I admire self control, it would be a waste not to culture your power because of self-imposed, overcautious reservations.”

He was back in front of you again, lifting his cane to place his microphone under your chin, forcing you to lift your head up to look into his eyes, so full of insidious delight. Your eyes have blown wide, not being able to avert your gaze. You hoped he didn't mean what you thought he meant.

“You shouldn't be at the mercy of your emotions, kitten, no no no, that won't do. Instead, you shall learn how to use them to our advantage, to dominate them. And I will be by your side every step of the way, guiding you there.”

You shuddered, partly out of fear to lose control again, partly because of the sheer intensity of his voice ringing in your ears. He acted weird, out of his modus operandi, out of everything you've learned about him, and that actually scared you. That's what that feeling was, right? For the first time since you landed in hell, you didn't know how to adjust to his behavior. With a drumming heart, you suppressed the tremble in your voice as you spoke. You couldn't question him. You wouldn't.

“Whatever you see fit, I'll do.”

“That's the spirit, darling.” He hummed, retrieving his cane and vanished it in thin air, a contemplating, toothless smile on his lips as he tilted his head at you, thinking. Deciding.

”I want to indulge in a little experiment, my dear, if you could entertain me?”

You nodded, holding your breath. His static licked over your whole body in response, drizzling over your shoulders down the back to your feet. He bared his teeth in a devilish smirk.

“Lovely.” He suddenly melted into shadows, just to materialize behind you.

“Just stay right where you are. And do tell me if you wish to stop.”

Before you could even process what he said, you felt lingering fingers caressing the back of your head. Sharp digits scraping unknown patterns down your spine, light as a feather but burning as a hot iron. You fought a gasp of pleasure, tensing against the touch.

You felt hot breath on your ear “Relax, (Y/n), don't fight it, just feel. You can do that, right?”

Your tail quivered at it's tip, you felt your face burning up at the thought of him noticing.

“Yes.” was all you could manage to say. What else could you say?

You felt his fingers traveling further down, his static thick in your ears, muffling your raging thoughts. What had gotten into him, into you, what the hell happened? You felt tingly all over, itchy in your own skin as his hands slowly brushed over your sides to your thighs, earning a heartbreaking shudder. You barely remembered the last time you were touched , much less like this. Who had you been with? A faceless, amateurish nobody. Not worthy of remembering the name. None of the men you had been with had been so remarkable as to entertain them more than one time. And none of them had ever been this sensual threatening while caressing you. You felt your head fall back inevitably, a smile tugged desperately at the edges of your lips. You felt your limbs, your torso, your everything just getting so god damn hot.

And if felt so deliciously good.

“ȶɦǟȶ'ֆ ɨȶ... ʝʊֆȶ ǟ ʟɨȶȶʟɛ ʍօʀɛ, ӄɨȶȶɛռ... ”

(That's it... just a little more, kitten...")

His voice sounded distorted, hot, dark, rumbling, sultry dangerous. You felt him pull you closer, felt the warmth of his body, your head only says I want this Do I want this?

You felt his claws digging into you hips, sweet sharp pain, you were ready to beg for more to burst, ready to...

🅺🅽🅾🅲🅺

🅺🅽🅾🅲🅺

🅺🅽🅾🅲🅺

Alastor was furious.

Furious about the princesses absolutely disastrous, unfailing, unwarranted, timing.

Furious about how close they came, so unnervingly close to getting one of her little copies to come out

Most of all, he was absolutely seething that he almost lost his own composure.

He could see the echoes of her bright, rosy light still pulsing around her. The second the knocks stopped, he snapped out of it, retreated his hands and melted into smoke, recalling his shadows from the door and joining them in the darkest corner of her room.

She, on the other hand, looked dangerously undone. Breathing hard, skin flushed with such an appealing tint of pink, faint quivers rushing through her body. A pretty little mess.

“One moment, Charlie. I'm indecent.”

She said with an unexpected, clear and steady voice. She took a shaky step forward, placing both hands on her dresser, leaning against it and taking deep, long breaths, her eyes closed, brows knitted tightly together. He stalked her with morbid curiosity, watched her every move, every reaction.

She ran her hands over her face and pushed her hair back, staring at her mirror image. Her eyes, a moment ago blown wide and diluted, had eased back, heavy lidded and dulled. Her mouth stayed shut in a soft frown. She stared at herself for a long moment, pure willpower forcing her skin to pale down. Alastor couldn't help but admire her ability to put her protective mask on, so quick and flawlessly, as if he taught her.

She rolled her shoulders back, turned with a last glance at the mirror and opened the door.

“Sorry for making you wait, Charlie.”

“Don't worry about it. Hey, you look much better! You even got some color on you!”

His kitten, waved her hand non-nonchalantly, her face unreadable. “I told you a good hot shower would do the trick.”

The princess giggled, took her hand and pulled her with her down the hall.

Alastor materialized again at the end of the dark hallway by the ballroom, making sure no one was near to see him. He straightened his jacket and pulled his shirt tight angrily.

It had almost worked. Almost.

One word he truly hated.

He swished his hair back, irritated, and blinked. Alas, at least he found out that his plan hadn't been fruitless. (Y/n) could be triggered, she was able to tap into the source of her energy, and that was progress, despite this little... setback. He scowled.

How he had wanted to see it in front of him, touch the jeweled duplicate himself, touch that power and analyze it.

There would be another chance. Another time.

His smile widened. Yes, his idea had been fruitful. He had suspected that most emotions would be hard to trigger in his dear servant – she would resist greatly to show real anger, for example, joy and fear were also too challenging. Yet.

He had contemplated harnessing sadness. That would have been easy enough, using her memories of her mother. But Alastor had chosen against it. He was cruel, true. But this was even outside of his own twisted moral code.

Not the mother.

Lastly, he decided for an emotion that was as easy to trigger as it was mostly caused by unconscious stimuli, and delightfully alien to him.

Lust.

Inspired also by her unusual, interesting reactions to his proximity lately.

It had been so interesting to see her react to him.

To see her flush at his touch.

To smell the changes in her scent.

ʟɨӄɛ աǟȶɛʀ ɨռȶօ ǟʍɮʀօֆɨǟ

(Like water onto ambrosia)

His shadows buzzed agitated, except for one. He glared at Ozul, who had attached himself to his feet, fizzing lowly. He scoffed at him.

The flow of energy had surprised him, he had to give that credit. It had been unexpectedly powerful, tempting to just bite down and taste it. That had been the reason he lost grip on his form, slipping slightly. Hunger. Now he knew – it wouldn't happen again.

He quickly stepped along the corridor to the bar. Better to be seen than to be questioned.

“Husker my friend!”, he exclaimed cheerfully, flourishing onto a bar stool.

The cat demon growled, scrunching away from him. So rude.

“Will you be a lamb and pour me some whiskey, my chum?”

“If you shut the fuck up.”

“Ahaha, always the riot, Husker.”

He took great joy from seeing his servant begrudgingly open a bottle of Brimstone's Best Bourbon. The glass was half filled, Husker did a sloppy job at pouring on purpose, but Alastor didn't waste energy on such trivialities.

“Thank you, good man.” Alastor sipped the brown liquid. Brimstone's always had such a nice aroma of oak, spices and hot ash.

Husk growled, opening himself a bottle of the cheapest booze, murmuring silent curses at him. Which didn't fall out of the ordinary, but Alastor had seen the shadows over his companions eyes, and he knew the look too well.

“My, my, aren't we especially spicy ourselves today?” he mocked, chuckling while he took another sip. “Care to share what's been eating you, my furry fellow?”

Husk took a big swig out of the bottle, slamming it hard onto the bar.

“Jus' pissed off 's what I am. Guess I didn't think even you'd stoop so low.”

The cat demon, swiped his mouth with a clawed paw, greenish streaks still tracing down to his chin. Alastor snickered at this brazen display.

“ Funny, I didn't realize there was a height requirement for your expectations of me, Husker.“

“Crack yo' stupid jokes, boss. But I know what yo' doin'.”, Husk snarled, baring his teeth in disgust at him. He felt his smile twitching.

“And what exactly am I doing, f r I e n D ?”, Alastor lowered his voice, letting him hear just enough threat to not being able to be picked up by anyone. His patience was wearing thin, especially after the unfortunate disruption from before. With satisfaction he saw Huskers ears slightly flatten on his head.

“Usin' that poor kid you brought in.” the cat demon huffed, his fur puffed up. Alastor rewarded his statement with a disparaging scoff.

“Can't fool everyone with that bullshit story o'yours – fresh sinner, just stumblin' in front of the big bad fuckin' radio demon, no power, no nuthin', and yo' hirin' her on the spot. Outta yo' god damn goodness of yo' heart?” The creature had the audacity to sneer at him. His claws dug into the bar, leaving deep grooves behind.

“Yo' better hope an' pray the princess and her guard dog don' find out yo' made a deal with a fuckin' morta..”

“ɨ ȶɦɨռӄ ȶɦǟȶ'ֆ զʊɨȶɛ ɛռօʊɢɦ.”

(I think that's quite enough.")

His hand had shot to Huskers neck, catching his throat. He squeezed, hard enough for the cat to get the message, light enough not to leave visible marks behind. Alastor hated to get so unrefined, but he had no tolerance left. Not today. His shadows hummed hungrily around him, waiting, longing for his command.

“Let's keep such V i l E and u N n e c C e S s a R y speculations to ourselves, shall we?”

With a final squeeze, he let Husker fall down. He coughed, fear flashing in his eyes as he crouched away from him. Mhm. Better.

“We wouldn't want to offend our newest member, wouldn't we. That poor kitten would be devastated if she knew what you thought about her...”, Alastor laughed, finishing his whiskey and standing up. “Don't worry, my dear Husker, our conversation will be our little secret.”

He walked away, now with a little pep in his step, feeling a bit lighter now that he got some steam off. But he still curled his lips when heard the bartenders mumble, even if it was only to himself.

“At least he doesn't fuck the poor girl.”

<< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter >>

[thecameronchronicles]

The Reason He Smiles

TW: Smut. language. 

SUMMARY: Your relationship with Rafe is revealed by Wheezie’s deductions.

WORD COUNT:

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Wheezie noticing that rafe is being nicer to everyone and she starts snooping around and then Walks in on you w Rafe in his room and she’s super excited because she’s obsessed with since you used to go to her same school and helped the younger kids with their homework after school and one of those kids being wheezie and she’s super excited and rafe is super embarrassed

The Reason He Smiles

“Baby, we have to be quiet…” He warned, drawing his hand over your mouth as you would only redirect it to your breast, his hand taking the guide without a need for verbal instruction as he took hold of the bare skin, making you moan his name as you continued to rock your hips over his own. A single curse left his lips as you reveled in how you had him beneath you in such submission. A brute of sorts with a reputation for such dominance was held beneath your frame in great contrast to him. But with the grip he made on your hips and arch of his back as you drove him further into you, he reminded you of such force in the passion he felt for you. 

“Baby…Fuck…”

“You wanna come, Rafe?” You teased as he scoffed. 

“Mmmhmm..”

“Then come…” You teased as you bit your bottom lip before being spun onto your back, rooted into the sheets as he clasped a hand over your mouth. 

“You first.” He groaned while your eyes rolled backwards to the feeling of his cock deeper than before, a leg taken over his shoulder, as the door suddenly shot open behind you. 

“I knew it!” Wheezie exclaimed as Rafe was quick to cover you. 

“Jesus, Wheeze-” His cheeks were immediately made crimson at the reveal. 

“I was hoping it was you! I knew Rafe was treating everyone else better, me included…and I saw you come around but I thought it was for Sarah, but…it’s YOU!” Wheezie made your heart swell as Rafe couldn’t hide his embarrassment, keeping you concealed as his sister sat on the edge of the bed you’d crumpled in the last hour of sultry motions. 

Rafe offered you his shirt for covering as he glared at his sister, both for being interrupted and unsure how to handle this situation. 

“I always thought you would be good for him. You’re so smart and pretty. You came to my class to help me with algebra last year and-”

“Yes, I remember Wheezie…” You acknowledged as she smirked. 

“Of course you do…I honestly thought you were too good for Rafe, but-”

“Hey…” Wheezie’s glance to Rafe made him hold up his hands in surrender. 

“Can you dote over her later please, at least let her get dressed, Wheeze?”

“It’s okay, Rafe.” He now glared at you, clenching his jaw as his sister stuck out her tongue, turning to the door as she heard the front door come open. It allowed you a chance to mouth the words Rafe needed to hear in order to allow himself a distance. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better.” He teased, rolling his eyes before playfully shoving Wheezie as she reached to hit him, his motions too swift to actually make contact. 

“I want to know EVERYTHING. When did it happen? HOW did it happen?  I mean I have an idea-” Wheezie would continue as you struggled to focus on anything but Rafe’s eyes as he would return in the doorway, shaking his head in amusement to the blush now across your cheeks. You shouldn’t have been anything to Rafe as you were the prime example of opposites attracting. And yet, you had now become the reason he smiled. The reason he found purpose in something aside from golf and angst. You were the reason behind so much and more than you even knew, all while watching him marvel at you as you bit your lip to tease him. 

“This means we could be sisters!” Wheezie exclaimed as Rafe choked on his drink he obtained in his absence, her eyes darting to him. 

“If you screw this up Rafe, I will NEVER talk to you again.” He beat on his chest to try and clear his airway as you couldn’t help but laugh, a final glance of having tested her words making his eyes illuminate that much further as the idea made your heart flutter. Because as you were the reason for such happiness, he existed as the same for you…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @belcalis9503

[treasure-mimic]

I do think one of the most interesting aspects of Guardians Vol. 3, and I’m not surprised this take hasn’t had quite as much traction since it’s not as viscerally emotionally interesting as exploring Rocket’s trauma, but one thing that really stuck out to me was the way that the High Evolutionary, from top to bottom, was a complete refutation of eugenics and those practices. This is evident even from the trailers, with a line that got heavy focus in promotion despite showing up surprisingly late in the film itself, “He didn’t want to make things better. He just hated things the way they were.” Marvel has kinda been on a tear with ‘villains who have a point’, which I haven’t hated as much as others, as the story can go somewhere interesting by having the hero adopt the worldview of the villain, but it’s also cool to see a villain who is just fundamentally, objectively incorrect in every way and needs to be stopped because their harmful ideology is only causing pain and suffering.

Obviously, there’s the emotional cost. Guardians 3 doesn’t hesitate to show how the High Evolutionary’s methods are repugnant and despicable, what happens to sentient beings when their life is compared to some arbitrary and unfounded aesthetic, physical, or mental standard. That aspect is important to show if you want to cover this topic.

But I think the other half is equally as important. I have had real encounters with people who will try to say that eugenics as a practice isn’t fundamentally flawed, it just needs to be executed ethically. And the next step of this exploration is to look at the raw results and say, no, this isn’t better. We see that within Counter-Earth, a planet supposedly populated with the perfect civilization led by the perfect authority, and it’s the exact goddamn same, with all the same ills and sins as our society, it is no better. To quote a documentary on a separate topic, but which also covered people who thought they knew the one easy fix to make society better, “because those problems are patterns of human behavior. They’re incentives, they’re social structures, they’re modalities. The problem is what people are doing to others,” not that there’s some secret defect in some people’s DNA that’s somehow screwing over the rest of us.

Everything about the High Evolutionary’s worldview is fundamentally flawed, that is what makes him a terrifying opposing force to face, and we see this from the very beginning when someone that was supposed to be a lesser life-form, a stepping stone to creating the actual perfect people, outsmarted him, figured out something he couldn’t see. Then that same individual became one of the most celebrated people in the galaxy, Rocket both achieved greatness and also found a group of people who unwaveringly love him, while the man who created him, who saw himself as the one to guide life to that perfect society, died loathed and betrayed by all those closest to him, because he was wrong and could only hurt people and was going to get everyone killed pursuing his wrong ill-conceived goal.

[livmadart]

conanon: inspired by the black footed cat conans :]

-

you see but you do not observe.

never before has Shinichi been more grateful for being a Sherlock fan to the point where he thought his quotes were akin to gospel.

because currently, they are his saving grace to his situation– and perhaps, his mother's acting lessons also have a hand (paw?) in this whole thing as well.

the "thing" he's referring to being the fact that, as Conan, he has a more... feline appearance. (one of his inner voices that sound annoyingly like Haibara is beginning to giggle, screw you Haibara–)

Conan doesn't even know if it's lucky or not, that he was the miniscule percent of not only surviving APTX but to also have something in his DNA be unlocked to grant him this- this– natural nekomimi starter set.

of course, he's had to tweak his story just a little bit with Ran, he and Agase had taken the brunt of a stern talking for it, an experiment gone awry, childish curiosity caused things to be touched when they shouldn't have been– and while it wass ultimately harmless, finding the cure will take a while.

honestly, better than the other half cooked scenario of Conan being an escaped lab experiment, a lot more things could go wrong with that.

the cover for his cover story is much more simple though.

"i'm a black footed cat!" he'd always pipe up when asked about his furry appendages, fluff his tail and make a show of curling his hands and scratching the air.

and then people just laugh and write him off as a hyper fixating child, marveling at how realistic his tail and ears look to be.

some people get concerned but a quick babble of his rich parents and they ease with the thought of eccentric, indulgent and crazy rich parents.

anything else more cat-like such as his instinctual purring, hissing etc. gets eyed with amusement and it's– he'd rather not be subjected to cooing ladies who think he'd be okay with pets but at least his new heightened senses and agile body are really good for detective work.

would it be too much to ask for people to please stop using catnip on him, though? give him coffee instead, damn it.

Thank you for sharing your writing again!!! Omg I really like your style and prose. Also conan is SO annoyed by this situation which is very very funny for me

Thank you again!

[hollow-prior]

Hurt People, Not Pets (The Rules of Vigilantism)

This is part four of a planned five-part mini-series involving Daredevil and Deadpool teaching Spidey about the unspoken rules of vigilantism. I started the series years ago and currently, this is the only part I ever finished. Ah well. Part of it might as well see the light of day

Fandom: Marvel (Daredevil, Deadpool, Spiderman)

Warnings:

Canon-typical violence/fighting.

Descriptions/mentions of dog fighting and animal murder.

There was a new vigilante on the scene.

That in and of itself was hardly cause for concern. Every so often some newly-enhanced shitbag showed up on the scene, wearing a handmade costume and bearing an alias that could only have come from a random word generator. 

Darkwar, Redfuel, Gangrene. They were all terrible.

Though, as Foggy liked to remind him, somebody named Daredevil didn’t exactly get to judge. Let those without sin cast the first stone and all that.

As far as Matt was concerned, that was different.

Matt had gotten stuck with a name he didn’t particularly want; they did their damned hardest to choose their own. They got their asses handed to them by common criminals and were sure to let whichever mugger or thug it was know their ‘superhero name’.

In the long run, though, he supposed it didn’t matter who chose their name. These new vigilantes popped up occasionally to bumble around and play hero. They didn’t last long. 

They never did.

Apart from getting in the middle of an important mission and screwing the whole thing up occasionally (Yes, ‘Jem Spell’, he was still mad about that), they weren’t a big problem. For the most part, they stayed off of Matt’s radar which, let’s face it, was better for everyone involved.

This person, though? He was different, at least according to Peter.

The teenaged wallcrawler had shown up during one of his fights, jumping in and taking on his share of the crooks with a cheerful, “Hey Double D!”

All throughout the fight he kept up a steady stream of chatter, his words going in one ear and out the other. After so many fights alongside him, Matt was used to filtering out his voice until it was little more than background noise.

The majority of the scumbags were already scattered across the pavement in various states of consciousness and, with Spidey’s help, the last few were quick to join them. Spiderman webbed them up and called the police and, despite Matt’s better judgement, he let him.

Something more important had caught his attention.

With the adrenaline of the fight wearing off, everything started to come into focus again, his senses spreading further throughout the secluded alleyway. A pipe in one of the buildings adjacent was leaking, a steady drip, drip slowly coming into focus as another sound began to make itself known.

Thump, thump, thump.

The heartbeat wasn’t the quick-paced thump-thump-thump of Peter’s or his own steady beat. It was something else entirely. Before he could move or say anything at all, Peter looked over.

“Wade,” he complained. “You could have helped!”

Wade hummed in acknowledgement and Matt could just picture the shit-eating grin he wore under his mask. “You and Red had it covered."

The sound of sirens came from a few streets over and without saying a word, the three made the unanimous decision to relocate. After all, bashing heads in the name of vigilante justice was generally frowned upon by officers of the law. They'd already learned that rule, thank you very much.

Once they were up on the nearby rooftop, Matt turned to them. “What are you two doing here? Talk.”

Peter was the first to speak. “We have a new target.”

That news was met with a raised eyebrow and threatening silence. Wade took over. “Red, dearest, there’s a new fuckhead to kill.”

“No! No killing,” Peter admonished, shoving Wade out of the way to take over once more. “Double D, I know you’re picky about who we uh- work on but this guy is terrible.”

“Everyone we deal with is terrible.”

Peter made a noise of frustration and finally, Matt conceded. With a sigh, he motioned for them to speak. “Fine. Who is it?”

There was a pause as Peter and Wade looked at each other, like they hadn’t expected him to give in so easily.

“He goes by the name Predator. You know the human trafficking ring? Well, some of them are involved in a dog fighting ring too. That’s what Predator’s been tracking down.”

Deadpool took over from there, pushing Peter aside with a gentle shove and taking his place two inches from Matt’s face.

“Mr. Predator-What’s-His-Face is taking down the dog fighting ring. Only problem that poor, sweety Petey has with this is that he’s taking down the people and the dogs.”

“He kills them, Red!”

While his teammates were perfectly capable of making complete sense on their own, their words might as well have been gibberish.

It took him a moment to piece the puzzle together.

Well. That certainly wouldn’t stand.

“What kind of intel do you have on him?”

—-—

Two nights later saw the three of them up on a rooftop, a fair distance away from their usual spot. It had taken hours of dedication and a lot of patience but, finally, they had gotten the information they needed.

Of course, most of Matt’s time had been spent corralling the other two rather than actually interrogating his informants, but it didn’t matter.

They’d gotten what they needed in the end.

In just short of an hour, there would be a group of the city’s worst thugs arriving for a show. Already, Matt could hear the dogs snarling and growling within the run-down warehouse.

It didn’t take long for Predator to show up.

The first thing Matt noticed was his heartbeat. Loud and fast, pounding away with a barely concealed anger that coursed through him.

Matt was familiar with the feeling. 

From the snickers and snarky comments coming from the left of him, he could gather that the guy had a pretty… intense costume. Black and covered in silver spikes, with a mask straight from a low-budget horror movie if Spidey and Deadpool were to be believed.

Just as he opened his mouth to tell them to shut up, there was a sudden commotion from the building next door.

All previous amusement was forgotten as the sound of shattered glass rang. Matt didn’t need his enhanced senses to hear the piercing screams that followed.

The three of them took off like a shot from a gun.

What remained of the window pane shattered as Matt crashed through it, followed closely behind by Spidey.

Deadpool chose a more… ostentatious entrance.

He came in through the front, kicking the door down and practically screaming the words to some 2010s pop song. The singing – if you could call it that – continued throughout the ensuing fight and, annoying as it was, Matt couldn't help being impressed with Deadpool's lung capacity.

Matt ducked to avoid a flying fist, popping up to deliver his own blow immediately after, and was met with the chorus of some god-awful sailor song.

After the fight, he would tell Deadpool that he hadn’t known he was there. He would say it was an accident, he got too caught up in the fight. But in the moment, he was all-too-glad to shut him up with a fist to the mouth.

The three of them ducked and weaved, working like a well-oiled machine, as their opponents began to drop like flies around them.

While Spidey was more acrobatic, jumping and flipping over whoever was in his way, Deadpool was all muscle and sharp blades, cutting down anyone brave enough to stand in his way. The two of them were complete opposites, with Matt's style falling somewhere between the two extremes.

By the time the fight was over, the three of them were breathing heavily. The sound of loud barking pierced through the post-fight haze and, as his senses returned to him, Matt’s focus shifted to the reason they were here in the first place.

Predator.

The man in question was standing just feet away, a slight wheezing coming from his leather-clad chest as he heaved in breath after breath. He wasn’t as used to this as the other three and it showed.

Without a glance at the them, he began to approach the dogs tied up in the corner, serrated steel blade in hand.

Deadpool was the first of them over there, throwing an arm around Predator’s shoulders and pulling him in for a side hug. Given the height difference between them – Predator was about five seven to Deadpool’s six three – it made for a bit of an awkward maneuver. 

“Somebody’s been a naughty, naughty boy,” he said, swaying from side to side and pinning the guy’s head against his chest, wrenching his neck with each movement.

To his credit, Predator fought tooth and nail to get free, cursing under his breath all the while. Against Deadpool’s hulking form, it was no use.

The other two watched the proceedings, making no move to intervene. Matt had been on the receiving end of that treatment far too many times, he was more than happy for it to happen to someone else this time.

When Deadpool finally released his captive, shoving him towards Matt and Spidey, the two were on him like white on rice.

Spidey caught him as he stumbled, steadying him quickly before letting him go as if he’d been burned. Not seconds after he had released the man, Matt was in his face, teeth bared in the Daredevil snarl that had sent much braver people running for their lives.

“What the hell!?!” The man took a staggering step back, his back slamming into the support pillar behind him as he tried to put some distance between him and the devil. “What's this 'sposed to be?”

Daredevil moved, pinning the man against the pillar in the blink of an eye. He leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke. “A little arachnid told me you’ve been picking fights with the dogs."

Predator tried to protest but a quick slam of his head to the stone pillar shut him up.

"Now, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home, pack up that costume, and forget you ever wore it.”

"And? What if I don’t?”

His question was met with a thoughtful hum, as if Daredevil was simply pondering the question.

Out of nowhere, he slammed Predator against the pillar once more, a loud crack ringing out.

Leaning in close, he hissed something far too quiet to hear. Whatever it was had Predator blanching, frantically shoving at the devil’s chest with all his strength.

Matt just grinned, a feral bearing of teeth. The action was designed to intimidate and by God, it worked.

Daredevil released his prey, allowing the man to stagger back a few steps until he hit the wall. Predator took a few seconds to gather his senses before he was off like a rabbit, scrambling away from the run-down warehouse.

With that dealt with, Matt turned.

A little ways away, Spidey sat crouched on the ground, trying to convince the dogs to accept some belly rubs from him.

Given that said dogs were snarling giants, straining to escape and just barely held back by only the chains around their necks, he wasn’t making much progress.

Matt found Deadpool over in the opposite corner of the room, cooing and speaking to something on the ground.

A step closer revealed it to be a rat.

A hulking, beefcake of a rat.

Such a creature was a staple in New York, as fearless as Daredevil himself. Which may explain its tolerance of the massive, masked human looking back at him. As Deadpool chattered to the rat, telling it all about his day, the creature simply stared at him, nose twitching.

Standing in the middle of the abandoned warehouse, listening to Spidey coo at the dogs and Deadpool monologue to the rodent, Matt was hit with the realization that these were the people he worked with every night to keep his city safe.

...

Dear lord, New York was screwed.

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

Chapter 3 of These Are Not Our Masks!

@daboyau

@that-0n3-shr00mi3-guy

@iobsesswaytoomuch

@sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist

@dluebirb

Raph and Leo snap back to attention at Draxum’s voice and arrival. He stands in front of a still open and glowing portal and has a look of pure disappointment on his face.

“You were supposed to collect your brothers and eliminate everyone else who stood in your way. Are you disobeying my orders!?”

Mikey holds onto Raph protectively.

“Yes they are! And nobody is going back with you!”

Draxum rolls his eyes.

“I should have made you all have some level of higher intelligence instead of putting it all in the purple one. This is not a situation where any of you have a choice.” His hand glows as he holds it out towards Raph and Leo.

The two of them scream out and hold onto their faces in pain.

Splinter steals one of Leo’s katanas and strikes at Draxum.

“You can not have them!

Draxum dodges.

“You fool, they were mine from the start! Now listen to my commands! Artemis! Atlas!”

Raph and Leo revert to their earlier behavior and go after both Mikey and Donnie.

“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N! Release the nets!” Donnie commands.

“Here they come!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shoots them out, getting both brothers caught and put to the floor.

They claw and thrash around which makes it clear the nets will not hold them for long. Another plan is needed, and fast.

“It’s a marvel what you’ve done with your limited resources. I’m sure you’ll make something better than this trash under my command.” Draxum waves his hand again.

Vines shoot up and around Donnie, completely surrounding him. A mask is held by several of them while others grab Donnie’s arms and legs.

The mask is smaller than the others, only being enough to cover his eyes. It’s metallic purple all across. There’s a goggle over one eyehole with two screws next to it’s top and bottom. The other side of the mask has gears and a geometric pattern around the eyehole.

If Donnie wasn’t in so much danger and didn’t know who it was from, he might actually be impressed.

He struggles heavily, also trying to bite the vines.

Splinter turns to help him but gets stopped by Draxum who he continues to fight with. Mikey pulls at the vines as much as he can. Every one he gets rid of has another pop up in its place.

“Donnie! BOOYAKASHA!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gives out a battle cry and starts mowing down the vines.

Draxum notices while continuing his fight and moves some vines to grab the drone. He tears him to pieces, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N’s head dropping to the floor.

Donnie’s eyes widen as his heart absolutely shatters alongside his robotic son.

“No! S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N! I’m going to turn you into lamb chops, do you hear me Draxum!?”

“Save that attitude for humanity.”

The vines with the mask slams it onto Donnie’s face.

Everything starts falling apart almost immediately afterwards.

Raph and Leo escape their nets, barreling towards Mikey since he’s the only one left without a mask.

Donnie is finally released from the vines.

That proves to be a mistake.

His fingers twitch unnaturally as he types, but he still manages to use his wrist device. Lasers start firing all over the place from different directions.

Leo gets distracted from chasing the lights, Mikey vaguely remembers when they were little and that worked on him.

Raph gets distracted trying to stop Leo from burning himself.

Mikey grabs at Donnie’s hand and attempts to get him to safety.

Donnie doesn’t move any inch.

“Leave me. Don’t go anywhere obvious. Warn April before she gets here. I’m destroying my controls for the tank. Go.”

Mikey tears up and shakes his head.

“No! I’m not-!”

Donnie slaps Mikey across the face, leaving him completely shocked and with scratch marks on his cheek.

“Did I ask you!? Do you know how hard it is to even be talking to you!? Get father and leave! Leave! LEAVE!”

Mikey runs and grabs his father’s hand instead, pulling him along as they run.

“Purple! Red! Blue! No! I will save you from this! I swear!” Splinter insists.

“What are you doing!? You’re letting them get away! Do as I say, Artemis, Apollo, Atlas!” Draxum orders.

Donnie suddenly appears next to him, having moved so fast the sheepman could hardly react in time. The wrist device is grabbed and smashed against his face as hard as possible.

Draxum shouts and reels back in pain.

Donnie tackles him, scratching and biting relentlessly.

“Artemis! Atlas! Get him off me!“

Raph and Leo move back over. Raph wraps both arms around Donnie tightly, lifting him off the ground.

Leo cackles.

It’s unsure if it’s at Draxum or Donnie.

Draxum stands up and glares down at the snapping soft shell.

“How are you able to resist my commands this much?”

Donnie spits at him.

“How should I know why your shoddy work isn’t functional!? I’ll tear you into pieces-“

“Now I remember, you didn’t steal one of my weapons. You aren’t attuned to mystic energy like my other creations. I’ll just have to imbue more of my energy in your mask. A simple solution that will also serve as your punishment.” Draxum places his hand on the mask.

Donnie’s throat hurts from how loud he screams.

Draxum smiles.

Donnie eventually goes limp, head only held up by Draxum’s hand. It falls down when he moves it away.

“Atlas, release him.”

Raph let’s go.

Donnie fails to his knees.

“Apollo, are you ready to be of use now?” Draxum questions.

Donnie lifts his head.

“Yes, Baron Draxum.”

Draxum smiles widely.

“Then it’s time you fulfill your purpose.”

Splinter portaled himself and Mikey into the tank then tossed the katana outside the hatch. It probably has some kind of a tracker, knowing Draxum.

He closes the hatch and gets into the driver’s seat. His heart aches as he knows he’s taking Raph’s place, but he presses the button to open the garage door and speeds the tank out of there.

Mikey silently sobs while sitting in his seat. Donnie might have hurt him, but he was doing it to get him to just listen and go. Maybe if he had just done that Donnie wouldn’t have anything to feel bad about later.

Splinter drives so fast that he barely has time to stop when they see April about to open a manhole.

Mikey very quickly hops out and pulls her in before Splinter speeds off again. He clings to her as much as he can, soaking her shirt with his tears. April squeezes him and decides to ignore the fact that she’s going to need a new shirt.

“What happened? Donnie texted SOS! Why isn’t he here!? Wait, why aren’t Leo and Raph here either!?”

Splinter grips the arms of the chair tightly.

“They’ve all been taken and forced to work under Draxum.”

April’s face pales.

“They’re….no way….Mikey’s the only one left?”

Splinter nods solemnly.

“I’m afraid so. Donatello warned us not to go anywhere obvious. They will look for us at your home. I know somewhere else we can go.”

“And that is?”

“LEMONADE! Todd’s special lemonade for my gue-! Oh no! What happened to you!?” Todd sets the tray with cups and pitcher down on his table and rushes over to Mikey and April.

Mikey sniffles and let’s go of April just to open up his arms to Todd.

Todd whistles and an army of puppies come running to tackle Mikey to the ground. They lick at his face, taking away any tears on it. He moves his head a bit so they don’t lick his scratch.

“Thanks Todd, I really needed this.”

“Of course! Anything for my best friend! But I could help a lot more if I knew what happened!”

Mikey sadly tells the entire story, fully filling everyone present in.

April and Splinter look even more terrified. Neither of them knew exactly how bad it had gotten. Now they’re aware that might be entirely screwed.

“Donnie did that to you….?”

“H-He wouldn’t have done it if he could help it. Even with how hard it was to talk, he wanted me to remember to warn you, April.”

She feels a little choked up that Donnie used some of his last bits of sanity to worry about her. April rejected hanging out with them today in favor of spending some time relaxing with Mayhem. If she had been there, she could have done something.

No, no time to think about that. She’s here now and her pseudo brothers need her.

“We need a plan! We can’t just let Draxum use them like puppets! Splints, what are our options?”

“If this is what I believe it to be….then I am not sure….but I do know where I can get some information. That auction house must have some of my family scrolls since they continue to sell things from my time as Lou Jitsu.”

“Then we go looking! There’s no time to waste!”

“Y-Yeah, let’s go!” Mikey tries to sit up.

April gently pushes him back into the puppy pile.

“Sorry buddy. It’s better for you to be here where they won’t find you. Todd will protect you, right Todd?”

Todd rips off his shirt and shows off a surprisingly good physique.

“Nothing will get to my pal while I’m here!”

“Okay, I wasn’t expecting all that, but my point is proven.”

“But I want to help! Leo and Donnie….they both made sure I wasn’t taken….I have to repay the favor by helping fix them!” Mikey whines.

Splinter kneels down next to him and strokes his non hurt cheek.

“My son, you can repay the favor by staying safe like they wanted. If Draxum gets you as well, it’s truly over.”

Mikey leans into his dad’s hand and sighs.

“Okay….I’ll stay. Both of you be extra careful!”

“You’ve got it. We’ll be back!” April heads into the tank again.

Splinter kisses Mikey’s forehead and follows after her. The tank speeds off quickly.

Mikey sighs.

“Don’t be sad, friend. Let me get you patched up, then you can have some lemonade and we can cook together and play with the puppies! Doesn’t that sound fun?” Todd holds out his hand.

Mikey takes it, smiling softly.

“Yeah….it does. It would just be a lot more fun with my brothers.”

Todd helps him up and leads him to the first aid area of the puppy park.

“You can always come back with them after they’re okay again!”

“You’re right. And they will be okay again!”

“That’s the spirit! Do you want a Dalmatian or Golden Retriever bandaid?”

“Dalmatian please.”

April sits in Donnie’s seat as Splinter once again drives the tank.

“So….you said reaching out to them helps a little?”

“Not enough, but yes. Perhaps if they could stay away from Draxum for longer. It wouldn’t be an easy task.”

April thinks for a second.

“If Draxum wants the guys to rule the world for him or something, Donnie would need more parts. He also can’t work fast if he’s distracted so any place he goes to has to be somewhere he can be alone. I bet he’d go to the Purple Dragon’s lair!”

“Please do not tell me that you want to try to find him there. You have seen what happened to Orange, and he told us what Red did to Blue. They aren’t themselves. He won’t forgive himself if he hurts you either.”

“I won’t give him the chance! Besides, I’ve known the guys for years. They’ve got weaknesses even they don’t know about but I do. If anyone is going to get Donnie back, it’s me.”

Splinter sighs.

“Then you want to split up?”

“Yeah! You drop me off and go head to the auction house. I’ll calm Donnie down enough for you to use whatever you find, then he can help us get the other guys back!”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Of course I am. You know I’d do anything for them.”

“Then let’s save our boys.”

After getting the address from April, Splinter changes course to the hideout.

He hopes he doesn’t regret it.

[hotchs-bitch]

Fluffy Feb Day 27- Snow

Warnings: getting together, only one bed trope except I as the author provided 2 beds and they do it to themselves, Canada (which was supposed to be realistic but comes across as satire. No judging me unless you are also Canadian), some 18+ implications but nothing happens

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1k (i went crazy :/)

A/N: Honestly I've either made up or researched everything I've put in a fic about America so it was a nice change to just Know Things (although I am not from the province where this takes place). Also in my mind this is a continuation to Day 9- Pine

Once again, bonus points if you can figure out which Taylor Swift song I was listening to when writing this

Cases have taken you all over the country, face to face with some of the worst serial killers that America has ever seen. Much less often, they take you to Canada.

Specifically, in the case of a psychopath who skipped borders after killing in two states almost a decade ago and resumed his killing spree further north now, they occasionally take you to the middle of Nowheresville, Saskatchewan, Canada. In the dead of winter.

“Hey, folks.” The chief of police greets you all- well, most of you, since Rossi and Prentiss are already out on the field- with a friendly wave, shaking Hotch’s hand. “Chief McCartney. Sorry to make y’all take a trip up here, but we sure can use the help.”

“The FBI has been searching for the unsub for some time,” Hotch answers as their hands part. “The case has been assumed cold for several years by the Bureau, so we’re grateful you reached out. Two of my agents are at the latest crime scene already.”

“Where should we set up?” JJ asks, and the chief leads you to a conference room. “And, er, speaking of cold…”

You’re all very cold, just from the drive from the airstrip to the station. You’d seen people snowmobiling past the road, and JJ had marvelled aloud wondering how they could bear to be out in this weather. It’s not surprising that she’s the first one to bring up the chilly air in the precinct with her parka still zipped up to her chin.

McCartney snaps his fingers like he’s remembered something important. “Y’all must be freezing, eh? Let me rustle up a space heater, get you nice and toasty.”

The fact that he’s wearing a button-down shirt and a light jacket isn’t lost on any of the experienced profilers in the room. “You’re not cold?” Derek asks, half in disbelief. “Man, I grew up in Chicago and I can’t feel my toes right now.”

“We hit minus 30’s a few weeks back,” McCartney says, wincing. “Sorry, I didn’t even think of it. Guess we’re all used to it around here by now.”

“Minus…” You glance at Spencer, who’s locked and loaded with an answer.

“Negative 30 degrees Celsius is about negative 22, Fahrenheit,” he reports. “I’d estimate we’re closer to negative 31 degrees Farenheit, though.”

“He’s smart. Windchill’s pushing us a little under,” McCartney confirms. “I’ll go get that space heater. Y’all settle in, and I’ll have one of my officers bring over the files ASAP.”

You ‘settle in’ as best you can, poring over the case with your team while wrapped in thick sweaters and cradling to-go cups of coffee. They’re branded with the Tim Hortons logo from the traveller case that one of the officers brings for you along with the files and a box of donut holes labelled ‘Timbits’. The space heater sits in the corner of the room, slowly bringing the space to a temperature that you’re all used to.

Hotch takes the first sip of his coffee without adding anything into it, his face screwing up at the taste. “It’s not too good when it’s black,” the officer tells him. “Sorry, should’ve warned you. Try a double double, it’s way better.”

“Here, I’ve got it.” You take Hotch’s coffee from him, adding in two little packets of sugar and two creamer cups while he watches you. “Better?” He stirs it and takes a sip, deliberating.

The second sip must be miles better than the first. “It’s not as bitter. I think that’s all I can ask for,” he murmurs while he takes a seat next to you, and you smirk.

He’s wearing the same quarter-zip that made an appearance when you went to Alaska, and he seems relatively warm. Lucky him. The less-built members of your team, particularly JJ and Spencer, have rosy cheeks and keep sticking their hands in their pockets to warm them. Poor Spencer goes through several cups of coffee in mere hours, a weak attempt to warm himself from the inside out.

Nearing the end of the day, you all pack up your things. There haven’t been any more murders today, but the information gleaned from the crime scenes helps you add to the profile. The unsub has a pattern of striking each week, probably to gauge how close the investigation is to catching him during the cooldown period, and he hasn’t strayed from the pattern since resurfacing.

You trudge to the hotel across the street from the police station- this town is so tiny that you don’t think it’s made up of anything other than a main street and rows of suburbia housing- in the pitch-black, wind whistling by your ears and freezing them. The sun went down several hours ago even though it’s only nearing seven PM, and the dark doesn’t lift anyone’s spirits.

“Get some rest,” Hotch says while he hands out room keys in the hotel lobby, speaking over the sound of chattering teeth. It’s more of an order than a request. “We’re at the station bright and early tomorrow, and I want you all rested and ready to work.”

The room key in your hands leads you down a hallway to a door that you unlock right as Hotch turns the corner. “119, right?” He clarifies, and you nod. “Alright. You’re with me.”

“Sounds good.” Your voice sounds cool and even, and you’re sort of proud of yourself for keeping it together after finding out that you’re sharing a hotel room with your very kind, very attractive boss. You’ve shared a room with him before, but it’s a battle of willpower to appear normal every time.

The hotel room is decently nice, and it’s warmer than you expected. Two queen-sized beds share a nightstand, and there’s a desk with a coffeemaker on it pressed up to the wall next to the TV. It’s a standard hotel room, a setup you’re familiar with. The heater under the window is whirring, filling the room with blissfully warm air- almost too warm- that has you shedding your jacket as Hotch sets his go bag on one bed and his briefcase on the desk.

“No working,” you remind him, your tone as scolding as it is light-hearted. “Bright and early, remember?”

Hotch snorts at that, then takes off his quarter-zip sweater. “We’ll be six bitter coffees deep before the sun comes up,” he says, but you struggle to hear a single word out of his mouth when you see his biceps through the thin white material of his shirt. He’s been covered up all day, and you haven’t hit your daily quota of staring at his arms.

It’s been a hard day, particularly for that reason.

“I’m going to shower,” Hotch says after a moment, discarding his fleece on the desk chair. He picks up his go bag, and the bathroom door closes behind him a moment later.

By the time he re-enters, wearing flannel pajamas pants and a white shirt, you’re fiddling with the heater. It seems to be broken, and when you turn the dial to blow cold air in the room it only seems to come out a few degrees cooler.

“The blanket’s really heavy,” you warn as he gets into his own bed. You can’t believe you’re overheating at negative-a-million degrees, but the combined weight of the duvet and warm air blowing steadily into the room is reminiscent of falling asleep in Arizona rather than the snowy north. “Something’s wrong with the heater.”

“I’ll try to manage,” he responds with a dry smile before pulling the blanket over himself. It lands on him with a solid sound, thick duvet against chest, and a soft ‘oof’, and you count to three in your head before he says, “Okay, you were right.’

“Aren’t I always?” You pull your own duvet down when you get into bed, leaving yourself covered with the top sheet of the bedspread. He stays underneath his blankets, not shifting them while you reach out and turn the lamp off.

Falling asleep has never been so difficult. Without the thick duvet, you’re curled into a ball within five minutes when the slightly colder air fills the room. With it, you’re sweating so much that it’s a wonder you aren’t sliding right off the bed. One leg pokes out from under the heavy covers, but it feels like the only part of your body that’s at a closer-to-normal temperature while the rest of you overheats. You toss and turn, falling asleep briefly every once in a while for maybe ten minutes at a time.

It’s a little embarrassing, actually. Your blanket and sheet are lifted and shifted so many times that you have to hope you aren’t waking Hotch up, even when you move as quietly as possible. The only sound in the air is the wind whistling and fabric shifting, louder than you thought possible.

Around 1 AM, hours after trying to fall asleep, you’ve all but given up. You’re considering getting to work on the file by lamplight, or just stripping down naked under the thick blankets. What other option do you have?

That’s when you hear a grunt from the other bed, and Hotch’s outline shifts in bed. You can see him move around, lifting up like he’s flipping over his pillow. In the barely-there lighting from a streetlamp, you notice that his duvet is ruffled and partially folded over itself. It looks like he’s been tossing and turning, just like you.

“Aaron,” you whisper once he’s still. It’s quiet; he can pretend not to hear you if he’s close to falling asleep, and you won’t be offended. 

When he responds, his voice is gruff and just as loud as it was in the precinct today. “Yeah?”

“Can’t sleep?” It’s a stupid question, you realize as soon as it leaves your mouth. He isn’t sleeptalking, after all.

He doesn’t call you out on it, but just sighs instead. “No. It’s not working too well for me. I’m really hot.”

Yeah, you are, you want to say, but the logical side of your brain beats the sentence back with a stick before you can say it out loud. “Me too. How do you think everyone else is doing?

“Better than us, I hope.” He sits up in bed slightly; you can tell from the rustling and the dim outline. “I’m sure Dave has some kind of temperature-controllable blanket with him.”

“Spencer probably researched the best kind of pajamas to bring,” you joke back, and Aaron chuckles at that.

“Morgan probably worked out before bed and didn’t need any blankets,” he murmurs, and you snicker.

“JJ and Emily are probably cuddling for warmth.”

Why did you say that? The high altitude- the provincial average is roughly 1700 feet above sea-level, Spencer would tell you- combined with the restlessness is probably getting to you.

Aaron clears his throat, and you cough. Neither of you seems to know what to say, so he speaks first. “As long as they don’t tell me anything. It’s a lot of paperwork, for that sort of… fraternization.”

“Well, I mean. If they’re just doing it to keep warm, that’s got to be an exception,” you point out.

“I.. suppose so, yes. As long as nothing further were to happen, two agents just trying to keep each other warm isn’t inappropriate. They… we all need to be professional.”

He sounds hesitant now, speaking carefully like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You wonder if he’s dancing around the same thought as you. If he is, is he trying to avoid it? Or does he not want to say it first?

“So, by that logic…” you trail off, waiting for Aaron to say something. He can say anything now. He can cut you off, bid you goodnight again, or even ask you to go bunk with Rossi, but he doesn’t.

The fact that he also isn’t exactly not encouraging you doesn’t disembolden you at all. “Yes?”

“Well. You know,” you murmur. “I’m just saying that if it’s completely professional… and if it’s helping them sleep, and therefore be more well-rested to catch a serial killer tomorrow…”

“What are you saying?” He isn’t really asking. You can hear his smirk as clearly as wind whistling through the trees outside your window. “I think you need to clarify for me.”

Your huff of annoyance is more forced than it sounds. “I’m saying that if we sleep in the same bed we might be able to actually sleep. Body heat, and all that.”

Aaron’s voice is softer now, less sure than when he teased you just a minute ago. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me,” you promise. The only sound in the room for a moment is both of you breathing, and you wonder if he can hear your heart thumping against your ribcage. What are you doing?

“Alright,” Aaron agrees after a long moment, pushing the duvet down to the foot of his bed. “Does it matter what side you sleep on?”

You get out of your own bed, and murmur, “No,” as he rolls over to make room for you. He lifts the top sheet up and you slide in under it, curling up. There’s still some distance between you, and you try to maintain it; he’s the one who’s concerned about things being ‘inappropriate’, after all. There’s no need for him to know that your heart is beating so fast that it feels like it’s about to jackhammer out of your chest.

“Goodnight,” you mumble as soon as your head hits the pillow. His body heat is like a furnace, warming you up perfectly from a foot away, and the thin sheet is warm like it’s been waiting for you to climb in. He says something under his breath- ‘goodnight’, maybe- but it’s been such a long day that you fall asleep in what feels like seconds without responding.

When you wake up to the sound of Aaron’s phone alarm, you’re much less than a foot away from each other in the warmest bed you’ve ever known. He’s curled up against your back, one of his arms slung around your waist to hold you to his chest. Previous experience with room-sharing tells you that he doesn’t wake up at the first alarm- he usually sets two or three, a few minutes apart- and you’ve got a couple of minutes to just be.

The sound of the alarm grates on you, but it must be on a timer because it stops ringing after a minute or so, and you relax back into Aaron. His cheek is resting against the back of your head, and you can hear his steady breaths in time with the rise and fall of his chest against you. It feels good, it feels right to wake up like this. You don’t want it to end, but you know that it has to.

When the second alarm goes off, he rouses with a little startle, like he doesn’t remember where he is. The arm around your waist tightens, just for a moment, as his body relaxes into yours. Soft as a whisper, you could swear that you feel warm lips brush the shell of your ear before he pulls his arm away and sits up.

The room is just as dark now as it was a few hours ago, and Aaron manages to fumble for his phone and quiet the alarm before he speaks. His voice is raspier than it was in the middle of the night when he checks the time and then says, “It’s almost a quarter to seven. Er, did you sleep well?”

“Very.” You yawn as you sit up, stretching both arms above your head. “I wouldn’t complain about a couple more hours, though. That whole same-bed thing works wonders.”

Aaron yawns too, turning away to grab his go-bag as he stands up. “I’m glad to hear it. You can go shower. I’ll change out here.”

“Deal.” You gather your own things when you get to your feet, disappearing into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Your mind is already on the case, pushing aside all thoughts of sleep arrangements and large arms holding you close in favour of your job. When you exit the bathroom, Aaron is already gone.

When you meet with the team in the lobby, you find out that he headed to the station right away to get ahead on the case. Everyone bundles up before walking back to the precinct; the walk is no warmer than it was last night, and fresh snow begins to fall just as you get to the doors of the precinct.

Once you find your way to the same room as yesterday, you find Hotch already there, dressed in yesterday’s fleece. He’s got a Tim Horton’s cup in one hand, and he sips it while staring, perplexed, at the geographic profile. “Good morning,” he greets everyone at once. “Reid, I was thinking. If we intersect his old hideout parameters from Minnesota and Georgia with his murders here, then…” their chatter fades into white noise as you turn your attention to the files lining the tables.

The first hour passes in a blur, the conference room lit only by harsh overhead fluorescents as you trade theories and examine new evidence provided by the local officers. The clock is just announcing the arrival of 9 AM, the sky beginning to brighten slightly, when you realize that you need coffee.

You’ve got the same setup as yesterday in that regard, too. One of the officers must have picked up a fresh traveller for you, evidenced by the steam rolling off of the coffee that Hotch is pouring for himself. “How’s it going?” He asks, stirring two creams and two sugars into his coffee.

“No big break yet, but I’m sure we’re close. We’re going to get this guy soon,” you promise, and Hotch nods at that. “I wanted to thank you again. For, you know. Helping me sleep last night.”

“It was no trouble,” he assures you, fiddling with the stir stick in his hand. “It was helpful for me, too.”

“And, hey.” You lower your voice a bit, and Hotch leans in to hear you better. “Maybe we can do it again tonight. You know, if that’s okay with you.”

He gives you a smile, that tight-lipped one you’re used to seeing around the office. “It’s alright with me. I just don’t want to… well, I’m your boss. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. It has no impact on my views of your professionalism.”

There’s that word again. You wish he could be a little less professional, for once. But he’s right, he’s your boss, and there are certain things he can’t say first. Your profiling skills tell you that he still wants to say them though. “Well, what happens in Canada can stay in Canada,” you half-jest.

“It can, if you want it to,” he murmurs. He still hasn’t taken a sip of his coffee, and he hands the cup to you while he pours a second one. “The sun will be coming up, soon.”

He’s right. Pale orange is streaking the sky through the large conference room window, tracing pink lines around the edge of the sun that’s just starting to peek up into the prairie sky. The snow is still falling, painting a picturesque image in the sky “It’s gorgeous,” you comment, taking a sip of your coffee. Without taking your eyes off the sky, you step a little closer to Hotch.

“Yes,” he agrees, holding his coffee in his right hand. His left rests on the table that your back is against, and it might be wishful thinking, but you think that he would wrap that arm around you again if there were no one else around. “It certainly is.”

----

“Longest week of my life,” Emily complains as soon as you’re airborne, a mere three days later. The unsub has been apprehended and is in federal custody of the country you’re returning home to. “But those beds were insanely comfortable. I haven’t slept that well in months.”

You and Aaron exchange a glance, a double-layered inside joke about why Emily slept so well and why exactly you both slept so well for several nights in a row. 

The last four nights have brought with them some of the best rest of your life. You’ve grown familiar with the feeling of Aaron’s arms around you in the morning, and by day three he stopped jerking them away as soon as he woke up.

That was the same day he asked you out, his gaze averted while he fiddled with a gold-coloured coin that he had received as change when he went out to buy a coffee. You had agreed, of course, and had assured him more than once that it didn’t matter that he’s your boss. You want him, and you have for ages.

On the fourth day, just this morning, he had held you a little tighter when he woke up and rumbled, “Morning, baby,” against your ear. If he hadn’t felt your heart beating around in your chest before, he had certainly felt it then.

Despite the fact that you’ve got a date planned with the man you’ve been cuddling for the better part of a week, you’re ready to tease Emily for cuddling JJ, before Spencer chimes in.

“I thought that the beds were quite comfortable, also. According to Sheriff McCartney, they’re primarily a transit town, which runs on a completely different economic structure than a transit village. The economy depends on truckers and people on road trips or similar travel to sleep in their hotels and eat at their restaurants,” he explains. “It’s fascinating, actually; transit towns pour the majority of their resources into making sure travellers making one-night stays enjoy themselves enough that they take the same route on the way home, thus giving the town more business.”

“The only business I want from that town is the name of whoever supplies those blankets,” Derek says, grinning. “That thing was so heavy, it was like getting crushed to sleep. Exactly what I needed with all that cool air blowing in.”

“Your room wasn’t too hot?” You ask, your nose scrunching up. “I think the heat was broken in mine. It was just hot air the whole time, every night. Way too hot to sleep.”

“Ours was like that on the first night,” JJ recalls, and Emily nods in agreement. “It was awful.”

“Right?” You complain, sinking further down into your seat. Hotch is sitting to your right, his face an impassive mask while he watches the exchange. “Let me guess, you guys shared a… uh…” 

Your teasing falters when the look on both JJ's and Emily’s faces tells you that, no, they did not share a bed, and you’ve just implied your solution to the heater problem. “We used the other blankets,” Emily says slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Didn’t you?”

“Oh! Oh, the other blankets. Yeah, the ones in the nightstand.” You nod along, your mortification growing in time with JJ’s smirk.

“They were in the closet,” she corrects you, obviously trying not to laugh. “I guess we know how you and Hotch stayed warm.”

You don’t need to look at your boss’- boss? Friend? Lover? You aren’t too sure right now- face to know that his cheeks are dusted rosy pink. “It wasn’t like that,” you protest to deaf ears as Derek whoops and high-fives Emily.

“About time,” he snickers at the look on your face. “So, when’s the first date?”

“It’s not-” you start to say, but Hotch speaks before you can.

“Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to him. He raises one shoulder and smiles, like What was I supposed to say? “Friday,” you relent a moment later.

Derek is still grinning ear to ear like a maniac, and even Spencer cracks a smile when Aaron snakes one arm slowly around your waist. The sun is rising on one side of the jet, and the orange glow illuminates his face.

For one suspended moment, everything is perfect. You’ve got a date for this Friday, you’re more well-rested than you’ve felt in ages, and your team doesn’t seem to care that you and your boss are much closer than you were a couple of weeks ago. It’s a blissful moment to you, and it’s only broken by Emily’s gleeful not-quite-a whisper to JJ. “Penelope is going to be pissed that she missed this.”

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