#otp: in your corner

[thequeenofsastiel]

Thinking about this:

So what I love about this is how completely accurate it is to describe your kink orientation as a "need". Because it's not just something I would like out of a relationship. It's not a want. It's a need. I'm actively unhappy in vanilla relationships(or that one time I spent a year trying to be in a relationship with another sub *shudder*). I need to be able to submit to my partner. And honestly I just need to be able to submit in general. Not having that feels like I'm suffocating. So Louis saying that he and Armand had figured out what they NEEDED from each other, not wanted, but needed, is perfectly accurate.

Also look at the love in their eyes!!!! You'll NEVER convince me that they weren't in love in Dubai.

[okmcintyre]

Masterlist #2 Bellarke Fanfiction Recs

It's been a couple more years & I'm very happy to report there's been ✨lots✨ more amazing fics shared in our corner of fandom. Y'all know the drill: linking older modern!au recs, the dropship/delinquent-only stories list, a few canonverse recs and of course the OG Masterlist from 2020.

Feel free to add your faves! 💛

Canonverse unless noted otherwise, + fics of of all ratings, so keep your eyes peeled!

Good Days and Bad Days by tiredwetdog 

where have you wandered, my only child? by carrieevew

Little steps by bellofthetolppl

With you in my arms (everything feels alright) by orphan_account 

so this is how rumors get started by ChronicTonsillitis

Bellamy Blake needs to touch some grass by b00mgh

Weathering the Storm by PenguinofProse

Hold on to me (I'm a little unsteady) by TheWordsInMyHead

take a running start by glowinghorizons

the whole world stops by whatspastisprologue

so this is how rumors get started by ChronicTonsillitis

Show Me What I'm Looking For by bitscrawford

What We Built by elle_stone

Can't Find Paradise On The Ground by icantloseyoutoo

It Doesn't End Here by immortalpramheda

You Make it Real by PnclSktch

i'm on my knees, your faith in shreds by stoneage_woman

the radio is playing your favourite song (open the door) by theinvisibledisaster

Hold me still by bellofthetolppl

a kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear by troubledpancakes

one less day to be alone by glowinghorizons 

A Short Story About Love by twosuns

must've been some kind of kiss (grounder!au) by carrieevew

Don't Look Back, You're Not Going That Way (viking!au) by andsowemeetagain

And Now You're Home (praimfaya!au) by asroarke

When the Sky Meets the Ground (grounder!au) by Peggysousfan

No Man is an Island, Entire of Itself (hanahaki!au) by MyHeartOfHearts

Walk the Line (doctor/criminal!au) by TheWordsInMyHead

The Other Half of my Soul (soulmate!au) by ZouWrites 

Lone Wolf (nightblood!au) by Peggysousfan

May the Waves Bring You Home (modern!au) by RogueTwelve

The Best Man (bellmillerbffs!au) by PenguinofProse

Mirror Mirror On the Wall (soulmates!au) by SPNOUAT

If My Wishes Came True (modern!au) by bookwormforalways

so I stayed in the darkness with you (soulmates!au) by burninghoneyatdusk

Pieces of Us (modern!au) by daenoora

i think i should go (you said maybe don't) (modern!au) by blaketrash

Only Fools Rush In (modern!au with a twist) by onlyherefor1

Black Out Days (apocalypsey!au) by TotalBellarkeTrash

(do you remember?) dancing in stilettoes in the snow (modern!au) by carrieevew

Share Your Address (modern!au) by useyourtelescope

Better Than Revenge (B/C/L!au) by Excuseyouclarke 

Your words on my skin (soulmate!au) by not_a_total_basket_case

Better with you. (artclass!au) by Luminouswriter 

I Thought The Worst Was Behind Us (modern!au) by onlyherefor1

proposal interruptus (modern!au) by carrieevew

One Way to Find Out (clurphybffs!au) by Silverloc

bet on it (bet on me) (modern!au) by griffenly

The House Guest (modern!au) by Shippershape

After Me Comes The Flood (modern!au) by theinvisibledisaster

I Found Peace in Your Violence (modern!dystopiaish!au) by eyessharpweaponshot

Take Care of Me (And My Heart) (modern!au) by QueenoftheWallflowers 

And in Other News... (news!au) by Jeanie205

love enough to fill me up (domestic!au) by jackiefreckles

Fading Out (soulmates!au) by PenguinofProse

[fated] happenstance (soulmates!au) by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold

The Dying of the Light (wartime!au) by starsonfire

Bellarke The 100 Instagram AU (socialmedia!au) by OhLenaLena

I Don't Want to Dream About You (modern!au) by Dayo488

Too Aware of Where Your Lips Have Been (modern!au) by MissMR

When Bellamy Met Clarke (whenharrymetsally!au) by onlyherefor1

Submarine Man (modern!au) by twosuns

[riveatstoes]

hello analogical side of tumblr i am not one of you but i have. so much respect and i’m so happy for the crumbs you got in the recent vid !!!

[sevyn-stars]

As The Poets Say

As the poets say,

"A smile hides a thousand words",

But mine shows everything all at once.

True, unwavering, golden joy,

Tied together with a messy, unruly smile.

A smile that crinkles the corner of my eye,

Leaving a new crease by their side,

A crease containing a million memories.

It is, as the poets say, beauty.

[fumbles-mcstupid]

billyalan + alessandro nivola songs (6/6)

  ↳  Never Done

We never would have guessed We never could have guessed Becoming somehow turns into Become While the work that we must do is The work that we must do is It’s never done

[snowflakesky]

Paper Hearts

What are you doing to me? Ever since the day you looked at me, I knew I was in trouble. Those words you say to me, Oh Lord, keep spinning my head. It's been fifteen hours, seventeen minutes, And twenty two seconds since I, Forgot how to forget you. It's all paper hearts now. You can be a scissors cutting through, Yet, I'd still fold when you're a rock. You've signed this paper heart with your name, And I can't seem to remember mine anymore. You're just rendering me speechless. Were you always this despicable? Did you find my love high in the twinkling sky? Ooh darling, can't you see? There's this gravity I'm not used to, It won't let me look away from you. Breathe me in once, now I'm all yours. I still can't remember how to spell my name When I'm around you. I forget that I need to breathe It makes no sense to me. Ooh darling, can't you tell? I can't die without touching your heart.

[siribear]

so anyway i haven't posted anything for this story on tumblr in like 3 years apparently?

basically whisper went to the institute and almost died.

here we go:

MacCready wipes the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

When he woke up this morning, there were the usual sounds of Sanctuary that he’s grown used to, fond of: the kids’ lessons drifting out of broken windows, farmers scraping at the land, the hum of the generators powering the lights and signs and water pumps of the neighborhood. Now, it’s the soft sniffling of mourners, a sad track playing through the ham radio connected to the Castle, and shovels scraping the dirt as he and a handful of other residents dig the old psyker’s grave.

MacCready didn’t know her all that well, but Mama Murphy helped Duncan find a toy he misplaced soon after getting here, and he hasn’t minded her since. But as he looks over the faces of the ones gathered near her grave, he counts a lot more people than he’s ever seen at a funeral before. He kinda wishes he sat and talked to her more, especially since he passed her every morning when he took Duncan to school by himself.

Speaking of - he looks up to see Duncan still tucked in next to Alice, holding tight to her hand. Lucky kid, he thinks for a moment, before looking at Alice herself. Her eyes might be on the grave at his feet - almost finished, even though he hasn’t helped for several minutes now - but her gaze is glazed over. She’s somewhere else entirely, swaying like her dress in the wind.

He picks up a shovelful of dirt before someone notices him staring. Though between the music and the crying, he doesn’t think anyone actually would.

When the grave is dug and Mama Murphy lowered into it, Marcy is the first to speak. They’ve all known each other since Quincy, MacCready learns, and things were pretty bad before they got as good as they are. Marcy didn’t trust her until Sanctuary started rebuilding, she helped Jun through the worst moments after his son died, Sturges used to think of her as his own grandma, and Preston used to go to her for advice when the Minutemen first fell apart.

And then the eyes of the present Museum Survivors turn to Alice, waiting. She looks smaller now. It’s not the denim dress, even though he’s never seen her outside of jeans and some kind of shirt (hers or Deacon’s or the one time without). It’s as if when she came back, she left some big part of her behind.

“Like everyone else here, Mama Murphy saved my life.” There’s a gasp and hush through the radio. Someone certainly didn’t expect to hear from her. “When we first met, I didn’t know who I was. So I made someone up. Someone they needed. Someone I needed to be.

“The last thing she told me was that, even though there was a decision I was struggling with at the time, whatever I chose would be the right thing. Honestly, it scared me that she knew me better than I know myself, but at least she thought the best of me.” Even he can’t help but chuckle, though he has trouble imagining her doing anything but the right thing.

“Because of that, I never thanked her enough for saving my life, and the lives of those I care deeply about. And now the only way I can do that is to keep going. To turn Sanctuary, the Minutemen, the whole Commonwealth, if I can, into a place she’d be proud of. A place people can be safe. A place where they can pass in peace, at home in their beds, surrounded by people that care about them. That’s how I’ll carry her memory with me.”

There’s a reverent silence that follows, and then more crying, and then Duncan pipes up with a heartfelt, “Me, too!” that brings some levity. Alice picks him up and balances him on her hip. Duncan waves when he can finally spot him over the crowd, and when MacCready waves back, Alice smiles. And if standing next to her as she freed him from Winlock and Barnes and the gunners, or as she risked her life for Duncan’s serum, that right there - that would have him joining with the Minutemen in a heartbeat.

That's a smile that should be on the recruitment posters.

-

Preston has a million and one questions for her once the funeral is over and Mama Murphy is buried. Is she okay? Is her son okay? When did she get back? Does she need anything? She lets him go on, until finally Sturges tells him to give her a chance to answer at least one of them.

“I’ll be down there soon, I promise. There’s something I need to do up here, first.” There’s a scrap of paper in the breast pocket of her dress: he’ll be there. Just wait one more day. There weren’t any jet inhalers in the room when they found her, she was told. Mama Murphy said she knew how she was going to go… so maybe it was a package deal of information. It’s a hope she carries to keep the gnawing feeling of guilt at bay.

Whisper runs a finger along the top of the ham radio. “I got that party favor you asked for, Sturges,” she says, intentionally vague.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Preston, could you get everyone together for the party? I’m thinking it’ll be a big one.”

She hears his clothing rustle sharply. “Yes, General. I’ll make sure everyone’s ready to celebrate your return. Did you need anything else, ma’am?”

“No.” She stands. “Just be prepared for any party crashers, will you? I appreciate all you do.”

Preston clears his throat. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll see you soon.”

-

With school canceled for the day, MacCready takes Duncan back home and Whisper is left to what she hopes is her final stake out. The violin pieces over Radio Freedom are more somber, but the message to her keeps on its loop. She has no doubt the Brotherhood listen in to their station, and if they hadn’t been listening in to her conversation with Preston and Sturges, there’s no reason to give them cause to wonder.

She flips over to Diamond City Radio with a hiss of static then straight into I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire. She hums along, foot bobbing to the tune. Anxiety tightens in her chest with every breeze that rustles the dead leaves, but whenever she turns her head, she’s still alone. Honestly. How long does it take to cross the Commonwealth these days? Whisper did it in a few days and all it cost her was a few days of sleep!

Head in her hands, she groans.

A twig snaps. Just the one. Her hand twitches toward Deliverer resting on the surface of her lookout. The sound of footsteps grows closer. Whisper stands and turns to look behind her -

-  And out from the forest, finally, steps Deacon, dressed in his dirty white tee, hands tucked into the pockets of a familiar pair of distressed jeans.”Hey, partner. You wouldn’t believe the traffic getting up here. It was terrible.”

Whisper blinks. Tears prick the corner of her eyes. Her bottom lip quivers. Then she grabs her gun and aims it at him before he can get too close. His eyebrows shoot up over the frames of his sunglasses, as do his hands to the air. The pistol is shaky in her hand, even with the other braced under it to keep her steady.

“Do you have a geiger counter?”

Deacon relaxes, and she almost does. But she can’t. Not yet. “Mine is in the shop.”

The dam breaks. She tosses the pistol to the ground and runs to him, tears already streaming down her cheeks. She tucks her head against his shoulder, and he holds her to him with one hand cradling the back of her head and the other trailing gently up and down her spine. He smells like sweat and gunfire and stale cigarettes and catacomb air. He smells like home.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him say. “I’m so sorry, partner. We should have found another way. You shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“It’s my own fault.” She lifts her head to look up at him, and from her angle she can see the furrow of his brow. “I bulled over everyone else because it had to be me. I didn’t think - ” She wraps her arms around him tighter. “I had no idea what I was walking into.”

“Whisper.” He takes her by the shoulders, gently pries her off him. “What did they do to you?”

She looks over to the vault and wipes away a stray tear. “I think it’s better if I start from the beginning.”

-

Whisper isn’t the first one to try to get into Vault 111. Deacon knows. He’s sat up in that very same lookout that he found her and watched and waited as others attempted to break in. But no other stolen vault pip-boy or percussive maintenance could persuade the door to open. Yet when she pulls the cord out from her own pip-boy and plugs it into the door control mechanism, the machine flickers to life.

“I said that I would tell you everything when I got back,” she says, voice still a little rough.

Of all the things he thought he’d see when he got up on that hill (a trap, an Institute courser, three super mutants in a trenchcoat - ), Whisper pulling a gun on him then breaking down wasn’t one of them. He’s never seen her cry before, he realizes. Not that he’s much of a cryer himself, but for someone with as much on her shoulders as she’s had, he’s surprised she didn’t break sooner.

Whisper presses the button, and just outside, the blast doors slide open in the middle, like a great eye waking up.

“The first time I went down here,” she breaks the silence and begins walking toward the vault-tec symbol painted into the metal door. “I was dressed almost the same.” She flares the skirt of her dress. “We were supposed to go to a ceremony. Nate was going to give a speech, get a medal for his service. And then we were going to go shopping for Shaun’s Halloween costume.”

Deacon follows her onto the symbol and waits. The ground feels unsteady on his feet, and when it rumbles, he half expects for the metal to fall out from beneath them, for them to tumble down into the vault below. Instead, the ground rises up around them, until it passes over their heads, and the only light are the fluorescents built into the wall of the large elevator.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he answers, as casually as he can. He’s still processing the small bits of information he’s gotten. First: her pip-boy worked on the door. Second: first time she went down here?

“If you had a second chance at a life with Barbara, right now, would you take it?”

Now he turns to her. The elevator ride casts her face in light, then shadow, then light, but her expression is neutral. Not expectant. If he chose to lie to her now, she would understand and move on, as always.

“I’m not the same person she married anymore.”

She turns away, the corner of a smile casting a sharper shadow across her face. She’s pleased with his answer, at least.

“That’s how I felt.”

“What?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.” The elevator hits the bottom with a slight pistoning bounce. Deacon spreads his arms and feet wide to brace himself for the whole thing to come down, but Whisper grabs him calmly by the forearm. “It’s okay. We’re at the bottom.” A high mesh fence surrounds the elevator; the opening slides around to the back, and then they’re free to enter the vault.

It looks just like the entrance to vault 81, from here.

“Watch your step getting out. The floor is uneven.” Deacon toes the edge of the elevator floor and finds the lip she’s talking about. He steps over it. “It’s okay. We were all in shock when we reached the bottom, too.”

“Whisper, who’s ‘we,’ exactly?”

Still holding on to him, she leads him up the stairs, across the grated bridge, down a long, narrow hallway. Windows lining the walls peer into rooms lined with individual pieces of heavy machinery, each uniformly the same. Metal boxes, with water leaking out from underneath them.

“My neighbors and I,” she says. “We were led just down here.”

There’s no atrium to greet them at the end of the hall, no welcoming signs of life. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something isn’t right.

“Here.” He doesn’t know when she released his arm, but now she gestures at a terminal jutting from the wall. “The guest list. Nate and I were last minute additions.”

He steps up slowly. Compared to before, Whisper’s calm. Not serene, but… detached. He looks over the list; names and descriptions, male, male, female, male and infant… Nathaniel and Shaun Ward. Female: Claire Ward.

When he turns to look beside him, she isn’t there. Instead, she’s standing in front of one of the machines, one hand on the glass window. He passes by the dead bodies in the other pods as he walks down the remainder of the room. Sealed shut, the bodies aren’t even decomposing. They could be sleeping. Her neighbors.

“The one behind me was mine,” she says without looking away. “A little over two hundred years ago, I stepped into that pod. We didn’t - we didn’t know. They said it was for decontamination. We had just seen the bomb drop. The one that made the Glowing Sea? I’m sure none of us ever could have thought…. ” She takes a deep breath. He feels himself mimic her.

Then it all comes out. From start to finish; from bomb drop to Institute and back. She ends it with, “Deacon, this is my husband.” Whisper’s got good taste, he has to admit. Handsome - not even death could take that from him - and a vain part of him can’t help but notice Nate is also a ginger. “Shaun tried to tell me that they… saved him. I know we say synths are people, but that wasn’t my Nate. He was programmed to… to… 

“He wanted to try again at raising a family. But I walked away.”

“That’s why you asked about Barbara.”

She wraps her arms around herself and shivers. “Yeah.” With a look to her husband’s pod, “I don’t know if Nate could look at me the same after all I’ve done. He fought in the Great War, but… I’m not the same woman he came home to afterward.”

He shrugs. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

Whisper stares. “I - thank you.” She coughs. “Can we, um, can we go? This place still makes me uncomfortable.”

Deacon steps in beside her, puts an arm around her shoulders. “I get why the catacombs bothered you so much now. Don’t look at me like that. You were more jumpy down there than you were walking through raider-infested territory.” He stops when they’re halfway back to the entrance. “You, er - didn’t want to bury him just yet?”

She pulls him back along. “When this is over. We’ve already buried one person today, anyway.” At his look, she clarifies, “Mama Murphy.”

“Sorry to hear.” He steps into the elevator, and when she sends them up, he’s hit with a wave of vertigo as the floor disappears below them. She draws his attention with a hand on his cheek.

“How many agents am I facing when we get back up there?”

“It’s just me here, partner.”

Two of her fingers walk their way up his chest. His heart skips a beat. “Really? I didn’t think they’d trust me after…” The fingers fall away.

“Well…” He lets the word trail off, high and pitchy. “You’d still be waiting for me if I hadn’t snuck out when I did.”

She hangs her head. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

The sun breaks over the top of the elevator, spreading over them like the world’s quickest - and most welcome - sunrise. He grabs her hand and swiftly leads them off the elevator before the earth decides it wants to swallow them back up.

“Did you know?”

“I know a lot of things, pal. What do you want to know about what I know?” She huffs, and there’s a grin threatening to break her frown.

“About… any of that. I saw the rail sign up on the hill. Have you just been humoring me this whole time? Letting me think I had this big secret, but everyone was in on it?”

Ah. “Not exactly.” They walk past the gate of the would-be military checkpoint. The skeletons have all gone since he’s last been up here himself. “I had PAM look into past Institute sightings, and this place came up. Figured it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out, but for the longest time it seemed like a bust.” The bustle of Sanctuary is good to see. Exactly what he’s been begging Desdemona for the Railroad to branch out into. “Once again, you found us before we could officially find you.”

She squeezes his hand.

-

“Allie!” Lost in her own thoughts, Whisper doesn’t see Duncan until he runs into her and wraps his arms around her thigh.”Dad took me out on patrol with him since we didn’t have school today! We didn’t go too far though, but I saw a molerat and a bloatfly and Dogmeat and I played fetch with a stick.” He takes one long, inhaling breath. “Where did you go? Who’s he?”

Duncan maneuvers around to put her squarely between him and Deacon. She pets his head as he goes shy and cautious around the newcomer. “This is Deacon. He’s a very good friend of mine. He’s a little silly sometimes, but you can trust him. I promise.”

“Mac’s kid, huh?” Deacon says, kneeling. “I can see the resemblance.” Whisper grins, feeling Duncan lose his tight grip on her just a little.

“Why do you wear those?” Duncan asks, pointing at Deacon’s sunglasses. “No one else does.”

Deacon’s voice dips low into a conspiratorial whisper. Duncan leans in close. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says, looking between her and Duncan, “but these hide my reptile eyes.”

Whisper explains what he means when Duncan gives her a confused look. At that, the little boy’s own eyes go wide. “Can I see?”

Deacon stands and props himself up by the elbow now resting on her shoulder. “Sorry, kid. Wouldn’t want to scare her.”

Duncan frowns. “But if Allie’s your friend, she wouldn’t be scared.”

A conceding nod that she feels in her shoulder. “You’re probably right. But I like having her around, so I won’t risk it. Hey, Mac.”

“Deacon.” MacCready looks between them, then down to Duncan now standing comfortably next to Deacon. “Does that mean you’re leaving now?”

Her hand that’s been idly combing through Duncan’s hair stops. “I - ”

“No!” Duncan whines. “I don’t want you to go.” He clings back to her leg. “What if you don’t come back? Like mama?”

Whisper picks him up before he can work himself up into a full blown meltdown. She walks them toward their home instead of continuing to draw attention in the middle of the road as they always seem to do. Duncan murmurs a litany of you can’t go, you can’t go into her ear in between sniffles and mucousy coughs. In return, she whispers anything she needs to, to soothe him. When she sets him down on his own bed, he only holds onto her neck tighter. MacCready sits down next to him, one hand on his back. Deacon, she hears lean against the doorframe.

“Please don’t go,” Duncan says, muffled against her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to. But I’ll come back, okay? I’ll come back, just for you.”

He pulls away, eyes big and watery. Snot runs freely down one nostril. “Do you promise?”

She holds one pinky up in front of him. “I promise. Pinky promise.” His little finger wraps around hers. “There, that means it’s real.” He wipes his nose with his sleeve.

“Are you going away tonight?”

She looks to Deacon. Originally, she wanted to, but now - Deacon yawns, long and loud, and stretches his hands up to the top of the doorframe. “Boy, am I tired. I don’t think I could head out tonight if I tried.”

She mouths thank you over Duncan’s head. “How about we all have dinner together tonight, then Deacon and I will head out in the morning.”

“Okay!”

“That means we need to get you all washed up, kid.” MacCready gathers his son in his arms, and he goes easily. “Sorry about that. He’s - kind of attached to you.”

Whisper smiles. “Well so am I.”

-

“Thank you again,” Whisper says once they’re back in her bedroom. Outside the closed door, Codsworth prepares dinner with a clatter of pots and pans. “How long do you think we have until Des sends a search party looking for you?”

Deacon sits cross legged on the bed. “We can spare the night, anyway. Any longer and I’d have to send a note with one of your caravans.”

“Well, good. I’d hate to leave Duncan like that. He’s a good kid.”

“And he adores you enough to rub snot all over your dress.” He gestures her closer, and puts his fingers to work undoing the buttons down the front. Slowly, he unhooks the fabric around each one, the knuckle of his forefinger leaving a trail across her bare skin.

Stepping closer between his newly splayed thighs, she says, “Speaking of, thank you for earlier, also.” She hadn’t expected to fall apart so suddenly. With all the relief at seeing him again, knowing it was really him, there was no more room for the tension welled up inside her, and it had only one place to go. “I won’t make it a habit.”

“Mi shoulder es su shoulder, sugar.” He shrugs her out of the blouse. The skirt hangs on by the belt, but he doesn’t make a move to uncinch it. Instead, he runs his hands across her stomach, up to the hem of her bra, her muscles fluttering at the touch - and then he flinches back.

She looks down at him and his hands frozen an inch away from her skin. “Deacon?” No answer. With a finger under his chin, she forces him to look at her. “What’s wrong?” Her other hand removes his sunglasses and places them on the bed. There are no reptilian eyes staring back at her, instead all she sees is blue eyes filled with -

The door to the bedroom swings open without so much as a knock. “Hey, Codsworth says dinner’s almost - Jesus - “ Whisper takes a half step away and covers herself with her arms. MacCready quickly slips back into the hall. When she looks back at Deacon, he’s already standing with his sunglasses back on. “Look, Duncan’s waiting at the table. If you two are done - ?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Is all Deacon says with notable false cheer before leaving without so much as a glance in her direction.

Whisper covers her mouth, either to hold back a sob or to stop herself from being sick, she isn’t sure yet.

“Hey,” MacCready says, stepping slightly more into the room but eyes firmly on the floor. “Everything okay?”

Whisper buttons up the dress, snot be damned. “Yeah, Mac.” She sounds normal to her ears, at least. “Everything’s fine.”

Except it isn’t. She’s seen Deacon afraid before, but never of her.

-

Duncan keeps dinner from being awkward. He insisted on sitting next to her, which leaves MacCready on the other side of the table and Deacon at the head beside Duncan. Conversation flows as Duncan wills it, their little conductor oblivious to how the adults do their best to avoid looking each other in the eye.

“It’s okay if you go now,” he says with the most glowing approval. “Because daddy’s going, and he can keep you safe from bad guys, like you said.”

“What?” MacCready asks when her look is questioning. “Were you just going to leave me behind?”

Yes, she thinks. Because you have this little boy to live for. “No, of course not. The more the merrier.”

He leans back. The chair bears his weight with only a small protesting squeak. “Good. I still owe ya for… you know.”

Duncan shines under the spotlight MacCready casts on him. “I’m gonna be as strong as dad one day. Then I can protect you, too.”

Whisper steeples her hands over the table, then rests her chin on them. “Is that so? You know you have to eat your greens first.” A pile of green stalks, like too tall broccoli, lays untouched on his plate. Duncan glares at it as if she just asked him to eat bloatfly.

“They’re gross, though. I don’t want to eat them.”

“Eat up, kid. You’re gonna hurt Codsworth’s feelings if you don’t.” The Mr. Handy is in sleep mode in the laundry closet, unable to dispute the claim. Duncan still pushes his plate away.

“You’re such a dad about it, Mac.” Deacon pipes up. “Watch this. Hey, little Mac.” Duncan’s favorite new nickname gets his full attention. Deacon leans over the table, and his own plate with a slightly smaller pile of vegetables, and grins. “I bet you can’t eat all yours before I eat mine.”

Turned to Deacon as he is, Whisper can’t see the kid’s reaction, but she can see his back straighten at the challenge. “Nu-uh.”

Deacon goads him further, “I bet you don’t even eat one before I finish eating.” Duncan jerks his plate back and holds his fork in a fisted death grip. He goes to stab one of the stalks, Deacon grabs his arm. “Whoa there. Rules first, right?” The little boy nods eagerly. “You have to chew and swallow each one before you eat the next. And show your dad, too, so I know you’re not cheating.”

“Okay. Allie has to make sure you’re not cheating too.”

“I’ll make sure he isn’t being sneaky. Don’t worry.” Deacon grins.

“Count us in, partner.” 

She does, and at Go! Duncan tears into his vegetables with the gusto of a starving animal. He chews quickly, swallows, then makes a loud ah! sound every time he shows his dad his empty mouth. He barely looks at Deacon, eating as slowly as if his greens were the mirelurk they ate at Coastal Cottage, but when he does Deacon makes a show of chewing quickly and struggling to keep up. And Whisper can’t keep her eyes off him. Not because of the contest, even though she has to give him a Vault-boy worthy thumbs up whenever Duncan is looking, but because she’s missed this. Missed him. And in this moment she gets a glimpse of… something too intangible to put a name to, just yet.

She finds she wants to, though.

“I win!” Duncan startles her with his shout. “Look, you didn’t even finish,” he gloats.

“Nope, kid, you got me.” Deacon sighs theatrically, one hand on his stomach. “I concede my defeat. You are the better green eater.”

“What do I get?”

“Duncan,” MacCready chides, but Deacon hushes him.

“Come on, dad, it’s only fair. He won. Say, ever heard of Grognak?”

That opener gets the two of them started on a whole conversation about comics, with Duncan hanging on Deacon’s every word. Whisper and MacCready clear the table of plates and empty nuka cola bottles (the bottle caps go into MacCready’s pocket), with Whisper pausing only to take a chance to press a kiss to Deacon’s temple. Her own victory is to feel him lean into it.

At the sink, Whisper washes and MacCready dries. Whisper tunes her pip-boy to DCR. “You’re sure you want to come along? I - “ quieter now, though Duncan isn’t paying attention, “... I plan on going after the Institute. It’s going to be dangerous.”

MacCready shrugs. “You’re my boss. My… general. Is that what I’m supposed to call you? Whatever.”

“But Duncan - ”

“Isn’t safe with the Institute still around. I’m doing this for him, too. C'mon, let me do this.”

“I can see where he gets that sweet pleading look from.” She looks up at him, tall and lanky, as if a stiff breeze could knock him over. “One condition.” She raises one soapy finger. “You cut your hair. It’s getting way past regulation.”

He laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”

-

The departure of MacCready and his son finds Whisper leaning against the back of her couch and Deacon staring at the door as if he’s debating whether or not he wants to leave as well.

Whisper doesn’t let him. “Deacon, talk to me.”

She watches as his demeanor changes; his shoulders shift down in resignation, then up in acceptance. “What do you want to talk about?”

Her and Nate had a rule: never let the sun go down on bad feelings. “Are we good? I’m sorry I kept everything from you - from everyone, really - but I guess I thought...” She wilts like what remains of her centuries old garden.

Deacon puts a friendly hand on her shoulder. “You and me, we’re always good. If you had told me that story when we first met, I’d have laughed in your face. Probably.”

He holds himself stiffly. Keeps a healthy distance between them. “Then why did you flinch when you touched me?”

“Random muscle spasms. When you get older you’ll get them too - ”

“Deacon.” Her tone is desperate.

He runs a hand over his head and walks a contemplative little circle in front of her. “Fuck. Well, I’m dead anyway if I’m wrong.” She stops him before he can make himself dizzy. “Your… your scars are gone.”

Whisper blinks. She had put her hands on Nate and she knew. “Oh. Oh. No, they - the Institute had to stitch me back up after - ” After Glory downed her. Her blood spilling out onto the ground, her strength getting weaker, staining Deacon’s shirt red. “I’m not a synth, Deacon. I’m still - me.”

His mouth is a thin frown. “Whisper, I don’t think you realize how bad you got hurt in Bunker Hill.”

Anger rises to the surface. “So tell me. Because I sure as hell felt how bad I got hurt.”

Deacon looks at his hands as if she should see something in them. “I held your-your guts in my hands, Whisper. What I wasn’t trying to hold in was… ” He takes a shuddered breath. “... was on the ground. Or quickly on its way.”

“I was in an autodoc for three days,” she says, shrilly. Once again, Deacon flinches. “I wasn’t replaced. I can’t be - it wouldn’t make sense - ”

Once again his hands are on her shoulders, gentler now, soothing. “It’s okay. It’s okay, we’ll deal with this.”

She shrugs him off. “Listen to me. Shaun hates synths. He doesn’t even see them as human, so he wouldn’t make me one. Not when he wants me to lead the Institute. His legacy.”

“He remade your husband,” he helpfully supplies.

“For me. So I would stay.” A knot forms in her throat, the truth difficult to swallow. “Besides, if I was a synth, they would have just programmed me to love him, instead.” She’s going to cry again, she can feel it. The dam’s already broken, and now it’s all free to rush out. Her legs give out like a tree uprooted in the deluge, and she slides to the floor with a sob. “It would have been easier,” she hiccups.

She hears Deacon join her on the ground before he pulls her to him again. “I thought you were a synth the moment I saw you again,” he confesses into her hair. “I didn’t think there was any way you could have survived. I even thought about going under the knife again. Getting a new face, so I didn’t have to stare at the one that watched you die.

“Whisper, I flinched because I thought you had been replaced, and, for that moment, I didn't care.”

Didn’t care? If she was replaced, the Institute could ruin the Railroad, the Minutemen, the fragile peace they’ve cultivated across the Commonwealth. “Deacon…? What are you saying?”

He leans back, but still huddled close like they’re sharing a secret. His nose nudges the hollow of her cheekbone, and every breath breezes across the curve of her neck. “One last test.” For this, he removes his sunglasses, and the apprehension glittering in his eyes can be felt in the shaky grip he has at the nape of her neck. “Whisper, what’s my name?”

A shiver runs down her spine at the roughness of his voice. “You told me to forget in the morning,” she answers, even though she never did. 

The hand at her neck reaches up to tangle in her hair, and then Deacon kisses her first.

She had asked him once why he never did before, when insecurity made her feel as if she was forcing intimacy on him despite his enthusiastic response. Plausible deniability, he told her. Lies are always more believable with a little bit of truth dashed in, and if Des pressed him about starting something with her, well, it would be the truth if he said no.

There is nothing plausibly deniable about his tongue caressing the soft palate of her mouth, or her keening whine in response. She climbs into his lap, throwing a leg over his to straddle his hips. She pulls away to breathe, and he takes the opportunity to kiss a trail from the hollow of her throat up to her jaw.

Whisper moans his name - his real name - and is rewarded with his hand hiking up her skirt to her hip. He kneads the skin there, thumb dipping under the band of her underwear. She thinks of his poor knees when he shifts. “Deacon,” she struggles out, mind a fog, and nothing registers but his hands and his mouth. “Take me to bed.”

His hand on her hip yanks her hard against him, and she feels just how excited he is at that suggestion. “Your wish is my command, sugar.”

Legs hooked behind his back, she anchors herself to him as he carries them - almost back to her bedroom. Her back hits the wall outside the door. With one hand, he locks her wrists above her head. When he kisses her again, his hips mimic the thrust of his tongue. The other hand works the buttons of her dress. The cool air is a relief against the flush spread across her body, the burning heat spreading through her veins, flame set alight every time he touches her. She rocks her hips forward. WIth a soft hiss, he releases her wrists and finally carries her to her bed.

Even when he deposits her on the mattress, they aren’t apart for long. As if even letting her go for a second pains him. If he isn’t touching her, she’ll disappear for good. She sits up to pull her dress over her head. He helps her, fingers skimming every inch of skin he exposes. 

He dips his head to her breasts and licks the valley between them. Whisper arches against him, grinding down against his still too-clothed lap. God help her when he unhooks her bra and draws a nipple lightly between his teeth. She goes when he eases her back down to the mattress. He hovers over her, eyes roving, and even in the dark she can see his pupils are blown wide.

Whisper runs her hands up under his shirt to help him out of it. With a hiss of fabric, it joins her dress and bra somewhere on the floor. Her hands go to the button of his jeans before stopping, finding the the rough scars across his torso. The one just below his ribs from the mirelurk queen, the peppering of scars from gunshot and knife wounds, and a new one high up on his collarbone. He watches her as she maps them out, his chest steadily rising and falling as he catches his breath.

“Everything accounted for?” He huffs.

She hums low. She presses a kiss to the scar on his collarbone. “What happened here?”

“Bunker Hill. Ran into a Courser but your, uh, Brotherhood friend helped me out.”

Whisper shows him just how glad she is that he survived.

Their next steps are slower, more deliberate. No longer frantic, but tempered. Want still simmering beneath the surface, but no longer threatening to burn out all sense. Deacon begins again, mouth moving determinedly south. One finger hooks through the band of her underwear, and she arches again to slip them off. Still he takes his time, pressing kiss after kiss to the inside of her thighs. And just when she hopes he’ll grant her some relief, he glances at her over the planes of her stomach and grins. He rests one of her legs on his shoulder, presses another kiss to her thigh. Then one hard swipe of his tongue has her loudly moaning his name.

He’s always been good with his tongue, but now it’ll be the death of her. Sometimes, she swears she recognizes a snippet of shorthand that he writes into her until another swipe erases any semblance of thought like an eraser to a chalkboard. Once he introduces his fingers, it isn’t long until he has her seeing stars.

When she comes back down, he’s pillowed his cheek against her thigh, watching her and looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Knew I missed you for a reason,” she sighs with a grin. “Come here.”

He does, and it’s her turn to taste herself on his tongue. His jeans and briefs join the growing pile of clothes on the floor, and then she finally gets to learn the feel of him entirely against her. No longer hindered by just-get-naked-enough, Deacon fits a knee underneath hers and hikes her leg at an angle. Open beneath him, she urges him forward, and he finally thrusts home.

They moan together. Whisper’s head falls back further into the pillow, and Deacon pulls out and buries himself again. His breath is hot and heavy against her shoulder, the only sound other than flesh against flesh and encouragement moaned in the dark.

Pleasure builds quickly, welling in her core and tightening every nerve. Deacon’s hips stutter, pace uneven, fingers caressing where they’re joined in an effort to send them over together. He whines Alice in her ear and she builds her home in it. The tension snaps, and she’s falling hard, taking him with her, and together they’re tumbling limp limbed on the mattress.

-

The afterglow finds Whisper’s head on Deacon’s chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. It’s almost enough to lull her to sleep, mental and physical exhaustion doing its best to pull her under.

“Go to bed,” Deacon rumbles. Hypocrite, she thinks. Under the blanket, his fingers keep a lazy circle on her hip. Every fifth circle he dips down into the vee of her hips, then returns. “We have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Not that early.” He’s already half hard in her hand. “We have to say good-bye to everyone.”

“Not that early,” he agrees.

She rides him until names given and made blur together in unbroken breaths of oh, god, and please, and fuck, and they come apart again when words have no meaning and the feel of them is enough.

[bonnie-sheila-bennett]

[leeyanyanyaaan]

side project that i just finished! my personal playlist :D

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ FINDERS KEEPERS, LOSERS WEEPERS! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: the user "gojoslittleslut" tries to make a move on your boyfriend, but she doesn't stand a chance

contents: fem!reader. it's not too serious, nobody gets angry/jealous (except the comments lol). if u haven't already read the other streamer!gojo works u probably should so u understand the dynamic between satoru and his commenters !

author's note: reader is actually a mature person who doesn't pick fights with random ppl on the internet and i think we should all be more like her ꨄ︎

satoru leans back in his chair, idly chatting with people who pop up in his comments after he finishes his last round of the co-op game. his viewers are eager to chat, and some even shoot money satoru's way to draw his attention. whenever someone donates money, he gives them a quick shoutout and has a small back-and-forth with them, and he does that for everyone.

that is, until a user with a questionable username donates to his stream.

gojoslittleslut has donated $100.00!

gojoslittleslut: notice me pls

"shit, a hundred dollars?" satoru says, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. "thanks, gojoslittl— oh, fuck, what is that?"

you look up from your laptop and see the way your boyfriend's cheeks have gone bright red. satoru laughs a bit nervously, so you get up and walk over, making sure to stay out of sight of the camera. you sit on satoru's desk beside his computer and peer at his screen curiously.

gojoslittleslut: im ur number one fan~

satoru's eyes flicker to yours for a second before he looks back at his monitor. "ah, well, thanks for the donation!" he replies, completely ignoring the user's advances.

suguru-geto: he has a gf ...

gojoslittleslut: yeah

gojoslittleslut: me

you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle, scrunching up your nose at satoru to let him know that you really weren't taking it too seriously. after all, it's just some random person on the internet—they don't stand a chance with your boyfriend. 

satoru reaches over and takes your hand, twining his fingers with yours off-camera. he ignores the sudden burst of comments that litter the corner of his screen, instead watching you intently. in response, you roll your eyes playfully and blow him a kiss, snickering when satoru pretends to faint.

eventually, he turns back to his screen, cerulean eyes doing a quick once-over of his new comments.

toji-fushiguro: ill take his gf any day

inumaki: we know gtfo

gojoslittleslut: toji i get gojo and u take his girl. deal?

toji-fushiguro: bet

"alright guys, settle down," satoru huffs, rolling his eyes. "for the record, i still have a girlfriend and i don't plan on changing that anytime soon," he clarifies, addressing the current feud going on in his comments. 

satoru's a good streamer—he does his best to keep things cordial and lighthearted with his audience, but he also knows his limits. one of his limits involves people trying to separate you and him, his one true pairing (of course satoru's otp is his own relationship).

your boyfriend leans closer to the screen and scowls good-naturedly, holding up the hand still wrapped around yours. "this isn't gonna change, so don't even think about it!"

satoru says his goodbyes and then ends the stream, turning to you with a sigh. "how down bad do you have to be to name yourself 'gojo's little slut?'" he grumbles, clicking through his stream analytics and finding the user. he opens gojoslittleslut's profile and studies it for a moment before hovering his mouse over the block button.

he leans back in his chair and tilting his chin up at you. "she just gave me a hundred dollars, so i kinda feel bad about blocking her," satoru muses, tapping his foot on the floor. he looks up at where you still sit on his desk, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "c'mere," he mumbles, slipping his hands around your waist and hoisting you into his lap with a soft grunt.

satoru rests his chin on your shoulder and nudges his face into your neck, breath tickling your skin. "you know that i'm all yours, right?"

"of course i do," you murmur, settling into his arms. he's warm and comfortable, like always. satoru smiles warmly and kisses the side of your face, letting his lips linger.

"good. 'cause no fan account's ever gonna change that."

[howifeltabouthim]

He had gone to Lady Laura Standish for sympathy, and she had given it to him in full measure. She understood him and his aspirations if no one else did so on the face of the earth. She rejoiced in his triumph, and was not too hard to tell him that she looked forward to his success.

Anthony Trollope, from Phineas Finn

[sevyn-stars]

A Milky Way of Envy

The stars and moon,

All gravitate around youth.

The stronger youth of tomorrow,

That has come to drown the sorrow.

The planets and the sun,

All seem to be done,

With the glories of Heaven and Hell.

[jelloooverse]

in my yhk stupid era

[ID: An Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint comic. Kim Dokja says curiously, "I wonder how Lee Seolhwa and Yoo Joonghyuk are doing..." and Shin Yoosung perks up and exclaims, "Ah!" She pulls out her phone to show a picture of Seolhwa smiling and holding hands with a blank figure labeled Y/N and exclaims, "Ahjusshi! I heard that Seolhwa unnie is dating someone! they went on vacation. "I don’t know about Joonghyuk ahjusshi though...)"

Dokja, a shadow stretching from him, says, "Oh. I see." Behind him is a collage of imagined Dokjas looking despairing over a broken heart containing a smiling Joonghyuk and Seolhwa, overlaid with the all-caps text "OTP is dead?"

Shin Yoosung cheerily waves, "Bye ahjussi!" and Dokja pensively contemplates, "..but if Yoo Joonghyuk isn't with Lee Seolhwa then..." He imagines Joonghyuk surrounded by sparkles and with his chest bared and thinks, "Maybe his personality could use some work.. But with his looks he'd be dating someone by now, right..?"

He then looks with surprise over a corner to encounter a sparkle-surrounded scene of Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung with their heads leaned together. Joonghyuk looks down at Sooyoung soulfully while she laughs with a hand on his chest. Dokja hides behind the wall and wonders with shock, "With... HAN SOOYOUNG?!" Behind him, the real Joonghyuk and Sooyoung are arguing, looking annoyed and aggravated.

Dokja, sweating, goes, "No, that's... hard to imagine working out.." and envisions Sooyoung crossing her arms and exclaiming "Yoo Joonghyuk! You're an annoying prick!" plus Joonghyuk glaring "Han Sooyoung. You are intolerable." to equal cartoony versions of them being "lovey dovey" and sharing a censored kiss. A cartoony, flustered Dokja waves the thought away.

Then he looks back and thinks, "Well, if they're happy then.. I'll be a little lenient on our company's no dating policy..." He later walks in behind them to catch Sooyoung saying, "Blah blah that's fucking dumb. Right, Kim Dokja?" Dokja, looking disinterested, replies, "ugh, leave me out of your lover's quarrel."

Sooyoung turns to him with incredulous disbelief and raises a middle finger. "Shut the hell up??" Dokja grins, laughs, and returns her middle finger while Joonghyuk emits a question mark.

Then Dokja looks at his phone before beginning to grin increasingly obnoxiously as he says, "Should I leave you two alone this time, haha. Am I your guys' third wheel again? It's okay, I don't wanna get between you two! (Get a room alreadyy.)"

Sooyoung and Joonghyuk look at each other silently, Sooyoung looking bewildered and exasperated and Joonghyuk with his eyes coolly raised. Sooyoung runs a hand through her hair and says, "..Kim Dokja, did you develop a new strain of idiot?" Joonghyuk, looking put-upon, says, "A common case for him." Dokja looks offended before they both move around him, and Dokja goes "What-" as Sooyoung takes hold of his coat.

Sooyoung kisses Dokja on the cheek, leaving him blank with shock. Joonghyuk takes Dokja's chin to kiss his other cheek. Dokja is left standing small and comically stunned against a white backdrop.

The last panel simply shows icons of their heads. Sooyoung asks, "Hey, can we just order chicken for dinner this time?" and Joonghyuk frowns, "No. I already prepared for tonights dinner." Sooyoung shouts an incoherent "UGHGGH" of frustration. Dokja still looks shellshocked. End ID]

[hmslusitania]

For the OTP prompts - TimKon #2 👀

Please enjoy some boys being very silly in a nebulous Young Justice timeline, to the prompt of "I'm dying." "You're not dying."

“I’m dying,” Kon proclaims, draping himself dramatically over the back of the couch in their headquarters, his wrist pressed to his forehead like a caricature of a Victorian maiden swooning on a fainting couch.

“You’re not dying,” Tim snaps, rolling his eyes. He’s trying to fill out reports, because that had been part of the Justice League’s terms for letting them continue to operate — paperwork. He and Cassie had rock-paper-scissored about which of them had to do said paperwork, and after losing and taking one look at the Batman-formatted report papers, she’d declared that she was making him Young Justice’s secretary, and declared it his responsibility.

“You don’t know,” Kon complains, pushing off from the ground so he rolls all the way over the back of the couch. He manages to twist while he falls so that he lands on his stomach with his arms folded around one of the throw pillows Cissie had brought in because they “brightened up the place.” “I totally could be.”

“You can’t actually die of boredom,” Tim scolds.

“I’m sure there’s gotta be a rogue somewhere who can do that,” Kon says, which is… almost certainly true and Tim kinda hates that. “For all you know, I got whammied by it, and now unless you entertain me, I’m gonna die of the stupidest bullshit ever.”

“I am the wrong Robin if you want entertainment,” Tim says. “Dick was the one who was a literal circus performer.”

“Yeah, because I’m just gonna pop over to Titans tower and ask Nightwing to do backflips for my entertainment,” Kon scoffs.

“Well, I’m not gonna do backflips for your entertainment,” Tim replies, signs the bottom of the report, and flips it into the finished stack. As he reaches for the next one, Kon scrambles down to the end of the couch closest to Tim’s table.

“Can you actually do a backflip?” he asks.

Tim sighs. “Yeah.”

“Woooow,” Kon says, dragging the syllable out. Tim makes the mistake of glancing his way and discovers Kon watching him with a challenge brightening his face. “That would be super hot, if I believed you.”

“See, I know you’re just trying to goad me, so that’s not gonna work,” Tim says, and focuses on his paperwork. The looming, omnipresent threat of Bruce’s disapproval if he doesn’t get them filled out correctly and in a timely manner is good enough incentive to keep him from being distracted by Kon’s… everything.

“Sure, okay,” Kon says, and flips over onto his back with his hands folded behind his head. Tim makes a further mistake when he looks again and gets a good eyeful of the way Kon’s biceps are straining the leather of his jacket these days.

In a kinder world, growing up surrounded by superheroes had rendered him immune to distraction by traditional superhero physique. Unfortunately, no one’s ever accused their corner of the multiverse of being a kinder world.

Well. Except Earth-3 people, but that’s a special case.

“I’ll just sit here, content in the knowledge you lied about something stupid so that you could sound cool,” Kon says.

It shouldn’t actually get to him, but it does, and Tim kind of hates himself for that a little.

Grumbling the whole time so Kon knows exactly how much of a pain in the ass he’s being, Tim stands up, checks his clearances, and does a backflip, exactly like Dick taught him.

To his surprise, Kon doesn’t verbally respond. When Tim looks over to see what’s wrong with him, or what’s distracted him, he finds Kon just… staring at him. Blinking widely. Face slightly pink.

It makes Tim blush in response as well, without meaning to, and he kind of hates that too.

“See, I was just fucking with you—”

“Yeah, I noticed, actually.”

“—but that was actually super hot.”

Tim’s blush goes from faint to on-the-verge-of-combustion, and he takes his seat back at the table to keep doing his reports, vividly aware that Kon is now staring at him from the couch with an expression on his face that’s not wholly dissimilar to one of Damian’s cats when it’s getting ready to pounce.

“Tim,” Kon says, and Tim swears to god there’s a hint of a purr in the back of his throat.

Kryptonians and Cats. There’s probably a whole research paper in there Tim could cook up if he wanted to.

“I’m trying to keep the Justice League from shutting us down,” Tim protests. “I’m not doing another backflip for you.”

Kon huffs and launches himself into the air only to hover over Tim’s head, looking down at him and looming ominously. Tim doesn’t flinch when Kon leans down to grab his face in both hands, but it’s only Batman training that saves him. Batman training, and rapidly growing annoyance when Kon squishes his cheeks together and lowers down until Kon’s upside down face is directly in front of his.

“Tim,” Kon repeats. “You’re hot.”

“Thanks,” Tim says, voice coming out weirdly squashed thanks to Kon’s compression of his face. “So are you.”

Kon beams at him and brushes the tip of his nose against Tim’s, and then drops down another few inches so he can kiss him.

It’s not their first kiss, or even their first outside of sleepover night truth or dare and spin-the-bottle games, but this whole thing developing between them is still new enough that it might be within the counting-on-his-fingers range.

Kon nibbles lightly on his bottom lip and then faster than Tim can blink, he’s flipping around in mid-air only to land in Tim’s lap, hands still squishing Tim’s cheeks together.

“And I think, you should kiss me some more before I die of boredom and you have to find a new heavy hitter for your team,” Kon says. “Think about it. Do you want to get this paperwork submitted just on time rather than obnoxiously early, or do you want to have to figure out how to fill out paperwork for ‘I accidentally let Kon-El languish away to nothing out of boredom because I wouldn’t kiss him’ paperwork?”

“I think I’d make up a different cause of death for the paperwork,” Tim replies, waits until Kon’s scrunched up his nose and his whole face in disappointment, and only then does he give up on paperwork for the time being, and kiss him.

[snowflakesky]

Promise

You can be my tragedy, I'll be your sanity What's the use of being so normal? In this world full of fabricated lies.

I've got your memories—fresh and attached to me. Sitting in the crests and troughs of my mind.

Oh, darling, I'm no witch. But I swear, I can feel you in my Heart and bones if I just thought hard enough. Pieces of you keep floating in front of Me, my eyes fail to take a picture of it.

People say I'm hallucinating. Too drunk in love to be true, But darling, you'd be here if that were true. Wouldn't you?

Promise, just give me another chance. I'll love you hard enough. To keep your soul with me, Tangled up with me Resisting the force of God, six feet above.

[leclerclov3]

｡･:*˚:✧｡ P1 baby

masterlist

✰ pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

✰ warning: none

✰ summary: It was no secret that ferrari was a whole shit show this season thos however did not stop charles from giving his all to the team that didn't even care about him.

✰ word count:0,5k

You sit in Charles' driver's room waiting for him to come back from yet another bad qualifying.

"Hey baby.." you say softly as he walks in he immediately comes over to you hugging you and nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

"I just don't know what I'm doing wrong... I've been practicing nonstop staying focused going over strategies what else do I need to do" he says desperately.

You can't help but feel awful as he lays and rants in your arms. you rub his back comfortingly "Shh baby it's alright none of this is your fault..you've been amazing you have given them your all there is not much else you could do. You are doing your best and that's enough even more than that ough and I'm sure all of this will pay off in the future. you're amazing love don't you ever forget it" You kiss his forehead.

he looks up "Thank you y/n I don't know what I would do without you..." he smiles a small but genuine smile "I'll give it my best tomorrow I’ll try to win...for you" he pecks your lips and lays back down the exhaustion from qualifying finally getting to him as he drifts off...

Sunday comes and you can't say that you aren't excited for what today will bring after your little talk with Charles he seemed happier..more sure of himself and it gave you hope...hope that after all of this, he'd still be ok...

The race starts and turns one is as chaotic as always but Charles manages to snag P1 you know that it's too early to celebrate but you can't seem to shake off the excitement that's bubbling in your stomach...

Lap 7 passes he's still in the lead then lap 20 and then the final lap there is a fierce battle going on between Charles and Max right now and you can't help but feel anxious as they get closer and closer to the finish line...you see max over take Charles in the 2nd to last corner and as you begin to lose hope Charles sneaks back and snags P1 for himself.

The whole Ferrari garage is going wild as well as you, with tears in your eyes you run to Parc fermé getting right in front of the brackets. You excitedly wait for Charles to get here. And as his car parks right at that P1 spot and he gets out of the car you both lock eyes it's like no one existed around you too. He runs straight to you taking off his helmet hugging you tightly and then giving you a kiss that you will never forget... After that day it was safe to say that you knew that he'd be alright..

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yourusername knew you could do it ❤️

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charles_leclerc couldn’t do it without you cheri

↳yourusername ❤️❤️

lilymhe the absolute cutest

↳alex_albon excuse me

↳yourusername it’s only the truth alex

francisca.cgomez so cute 🤍

↳yourusername 💕

user18 my otp

user5 when is it my turn

user92 that should be me 🎵🎵

｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:

Second fic is finished this one is a little different from the first but i still hope you liked it let me know if you have any feedback and enjoy your day <3