#They’re pulling out all the stakes for these shenanigans

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 296

Through a series of miscommunication, the League is now under the impression that Batman, strange cryptid that he is, may or may not have given birth to the other vigilantes running around in Gotham. This was not helped by Bruce referring to all of his children, no matter how big they get, as his babies. Nor was it helped by Red Robin, in the middle of a narcolepsy-fueled imminent crash, mentioned how he had no mother. 

It also doesn’t help that no one is aware that they are in fact completely normal people, and not aspects of Gotham itself brought to life. Though really that’s on the bats themselves, because at this point they should at least count as undead. 

#Prompts #DC #DCU #Justice League #Batfamily #Batman Au #Cryptid Batfam #Cryptid Batfamily #Cryptid Batman #Bruce talking about the kids: My precious baby boy <3 #The baby boy: *6ft+ 200lb+ built-like-a-fridge-&-tank-had-a-murder-child Jason Todd* #JL: Okay so like they have to come into being as like not literal babies then right- #Other Hero: Or they grow really fast to how they look now- #The kids encourage the rumors & Bruce has a can’t beat em join em thing with his kids #Damian is complaining until the others tell him that it’s okay if he doesn’t think he’ll be able to pull it off… #Damian does a 180- he’ll be the best cryptid baby creachur ever fuck you for thinking otherwise #Also I need you to realize that when I say Bruce I mean Battinson-looking Bruce behind the cryptid shit #So yes Damian has the biggest doe eyes even with the feather-dominos #Yes this was inspired by the Bats Stole the League Brain Cells series by EmpressGeek on AO3 #Also feel free to give them wings- mechanical or just altered capes or whatever #They’re pulling out all the stakes for these shenanigans

[sev-on-kamino]

Pressure - an In Pieces One Shot

Summary: 501st shenanigans at the bar, and you enjoy a dance with Jesse and Fives because teasing Wolffe is fun

Warnings: alcohol, betting, highly suggestive dancing, she/her pronouns used, no y/n, no physical descriptions

Word Count: 812

The song they’re dancing to: “Pressure” by Martin Garrix (of course)

Jesse finished his shot, as he watched you swaying your hips on your way to Cody’s table. No shore leave was complete without you causing a stir in some way or another.

“How long before extraction?” Fives asked, nodding in your direction.

“Until she finishes her drink, or that vein starts popping in Captain Rex’s forehead. Whichever comes first,” Jesse said after a moment.

“We don’t have long then,” Fives laughed, and turned to order another round.

Kix looked over towards you, and made a noise of surprise.

“Is she trying to pull off a requisition right now? That’s my girl,” He laughed, seeing the little presentation you were doing.

“If I was a beautiful woman, this is the place where I would ask for everything. Promotions, raises, whatever the kriff she’s about to get right now,” Fives replied.

“Fives,” Hardcase said, tapping Fives on the arm, as the shots were lined up on the bar. “I bet I could do all these shots and then balance the glasses on my nose.”

“Stakes?”

“I do it, I get that new vibroblade you’ve been flashing around.”

“He won that off of me,” Kix said incredulously.

“Okay? And now I want it,” Hardcase said shrugging.

“And if they fall, what’s in it for me?” Fives asked.

“My favorite DC-17m.”

A murmur passed through the group at that. Hardcase was practically married to that blaster.

Fives glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still sipping on your drink before saying, “You’re on. Gotta keep the glasses up for 15 seconds.”

“Easy!” Hardcase said, downing each of their shots one by one. As he reached the last one he stacked them all together before tilting his head back and balancing them on his nose.

The boys started counting down from 15, as Hardcase kept the delicate glass tower balanced on his nose.

“5…4…3…2…1!” They all whooped and cheered as Hardcase released the breath he’d been holding.

“What the-“ Fives’s jaw dropped.

“I’ll take that knife,” He said making the motion for Fives to hand it over. The ARC trooper rolled his eyes and pulled it out, to hand it over.

“I think I should have a chance to win it back,” Kix grumbled.

“Maybe next time,” Hardcase said tucking it away.

“Sit Rep?” Fives said turning to Jesse, as he petulantly sipped at his beer.

“Drink’s not gone, Captain’s still cool.”

“I’m surprised. Usually 5 minutes being around her and the commander is plenty.”

“Uh oh, we have a development,” Jesse said nodding in your direction.

Fives turned to follow his gaze.

“Ah, the vein’s popping. We better pull her out,” Fives said downing his beer.

The pair of them make their way across the dance floor, getting just close enough to shout your name.

They watched you drain your glass, and rise from the table to strut over to them, with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

“I know that look,” Fives said, grinning as he took hold of your hips. You were already swirling them along to the music, as you reached for Jesse.

“It’s been awhile,” Jesse said pressing up against you, his muscular thigh pressed between yours. “Who’s the lucky trooper tonight?”

You didn’t answer, you just looked over your shoulder at Wolffe, who had his eyes trained on you.

“Oh, kriff me. Are you serious right now?” Fives asked incredulously.

“He will devour you.” Jesse laughed, his head bent low to speak into your ear.

Your giggles bubbled like champagne.

“That’s the idea,” you said tugging him closer.

“I knew you would be up to something as soon as Commander Cody invited you to his table.” Jesse shook his head.

“When is she not up to something?” Fives challenged, as you arched your back and locked eyes with Wolffe again.

“I’m surprised. I thought it would be Cody,” Jesse said spinning you to face Fives as his hips moved smoothly with yours to the beat.

“Ooh it very well might be him too…” you said, as Cody caught your eye, and beckoned you over.

“Very ambitious, doll,” Fives said grinning.

“You’re gonna be sore the rest of the week. And after that stunt you pulled on me the other day, I’m not taking it easy on you,” Jesse said, remembering how you’d finally managed to take him down. He didn’t know that you’d been training in every spare moment with Fives to pull that off.

“When have you ever?” You asked with a laugh.

As the song ended you pulled them close, pressing a soft kiss to each of their faces, “You guys are the fucking best, and I will think of you…well not during it, but afterwards with gratitude.”

The pair of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join them.

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said, turning to make your way to Cody’s side.

tag list: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @iamburdened @wings-and-beskar @sunshinesdaydream @dukeoftheblackstar @rexxdjarin @wolffegirlsunite @808tsuika @sleepingsun501 @ladyzirkonia @starrylothcat (also @littlemissmanga cause I think you’ll enjoy it, lemme know if you don’t wanna be tagged in random things lol)

#series: in pieces #tcw fives #tcw jesse #arc trooper fives #arc trooper jesse #tcw kix #clone medic kix #tcw hardcase #clone trooper hardcase #tcw commander wolffe #commander cody #commander wolffe x reader #commander cody x reader #reader insert #seven writes

[mamibaddie]

When The Heart Beats || vampire!Eddie Munson x reader

Chapter 5: I watched a change in you

Author’s note: finally! I’m back with the next chapter. I apologize for the long break. I didn’t have the motivation to continue this but I had a random bout of inspiration, I think it’s cause it’s spooky season!! (I can’t believe I waited this long to post it, omg.) As always, please reblog, like and comment. I do not consent to my work being published elsewhere nor translated. Enjoy!

Warnings: possessive!Eddie, jealous!Eddie, blood, vampire shenanigans, SMUT (18+ only!!)

You stood in the center of your living room. You felt like this was such an awful idea, but you felt even worse keeping such a big secret from them. An hour prior, you were pacing back and forth in said living room. You were muttering to yourself, go over what exactly you would say to the gang. They knew that Eddie had been back for a while. You all had hung out on several different occasions. They wondered what happened with Eddie. Every single time they’d dance around the topic, you’d digress. They decided to let it go for a while. They enjoyed seeing you happy and Dustin felt good about the situation. But there was something pulling at them, telling them that it didn’t feel right. You began to run out of ideas after a while. Coming to a dead end. You needed to tell them the truth. Or else, it would eat you alive. You decided to keep the young ones out of it for now. Depending on how Steve, Robin, and Nancy would react; dictates if you would even tell the others. Especially Dustin.

Eddie was watching you from the darkened corner of the living room. “I don’t even know why you want to tell them.” He said, breaking your concentration. You looked at him. You weren’t completely shocked by what he said. Ever since you mentioned telling anyone, Eddie was immediately on the defense. He constantly asked why you wanted to tell them and what good it would do. It was unlike him, but you decided to brush it to the side.

“I want to tell them because we can’t keep this from them forever.”

He looked to the side before turning back to you. “Or is it because they’re wondering why you’ve been so distant lately? And by them I mainly mean Steve.”

You were taken aback by his tone. It was drenched in disgusted with a tinge of anger. Yet his body remained calm. You were becoming reclusive with them. The constant questions and Eddie’s possessiveness causing you to slowly remove yourselves from them. Robin and Nancy would call, sometimes even show up. But not at the same rate as Steve. His insistent calls and unannounced drop-ins was starting to effect Eddie. In the beginning, it was fine. Tolerable even. But after so long, it planted a seed in Eddie’s mind. One that took firm hold and began to spread quickly.

Ever since that one night, Eddie would drink from you. Whether in your thighs or your wrists. He never drank from your neck. He didn’t think he could control himself. He knew he’d never harm you, let alone kill you. He’d rather drive a stake through his heart. It was the thought of turning you like him that was the concern. Because the more he thought about it, the more he loved it. Not only did it turn him on, but the possessive side of him, the one that began to read it’s ugly head, loved the idea of having you all to himself. He wanted to feel you twitch and squirm underneath him as he sunk his teeth into your neck, lapping at your sweet, warm blood. He even fantasized about you drinking some of his blood greedily. The mere thought sending his blood coursing to his lower region. It really started since coming back, he noticed how close you had gotten with Steve Harrington. The crew knew by now that Eddie was in fact alive. At first they weren’t to keen to the idea, but Eddie got in their head and wiped out any second thoughts about the whole thing. You, for one, didn’t know he did that. You didn’t need to know. What you don’t know, won’t hurt you. But one thing that really ticked him off was you and Steve. It was all innocent and friendly. The laughs you both shared, the compliments Steve would give you, the hugs that seemed to last a little too long for Eddie’s liking. He assumed you both got close after his death. That didn’t sit well with him at all.

One time, after a night out with everyone and seeing Steve be so close to you, Eddie was a lot more possessive in bed that night. Asking you who has your heart. He asked you to open your mouth which you happily obliged. You stuck your tongue out which earned a deep moan from him that rumbled through your chest. He spit into your mouth, which both of your salivas mix. You leaned up to meet him and looked into his eyes. He knew what you wanted. You began to kiss one another, each other’s tongue battling for dominance. You had his tongue in your mouth when you began to suck on it. He moaned into your mouth and you swallowed it. You knew exactly how to drive him mad. But it still didn’t take his mind off of the one things that was bothering him lately. As the climax nears for the both of you, he makes an indent that goes across his palm. He takes your cheek in his hand, smearing blood into it in the process. “Do you love me?” It was random but you didn’t think too much of it at the time. Too wrapped up in the passion and pleasure of it all.

“Yes”

“Then why are you allowing Steve to get so close to you?”

His eyes looked black, filled with possession and lust. It almost scared you, his power and all the things he could do to you with his new found strength. It also turned you on a bit. He took you out of your thoughts by shaking your head. “Answer me, sweetheart. “

“I-I didn’t know I was. W-we’re just friends.”

He stopped his movement, looking into your eyes and trailing them down to your lips. He didn’t mean to do it. He didn’t mean for you to actually taste his blood. He always thought about it, and the thought became stronger the more he seen you with Steve. Overcome by jealousy and fear of losing you, he traced your lips with his finger. Smearing blood into your lips. You were so far gone in ecstasy that you subconsciously licking your lips. Eddie became impossibly hard watching his blood on the top of your tongue.

“Like I said before, Steve is just a friend.” You said sternly, looking Eddie in the eyes.

“Does Steve know that?”

He wasn’t backing down. He was determined to remind you and let Steve and everyone else know that you were his. By any means.

“Yes, Steve knows it.”

“Then tell him.”

“Excuse me?”

“While you tell them that I’m this monster, tell him that you love me.”

You just looked at him before quietly saying, “you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, no ridiculous is having to tell the love of my life that she’s a little too friendly with another man.” He stands up and moves his way over to you. Calm but firm. “Ridiculous is having to remind everyone that you’re mine.” He says, moving your hair to the side and moving to whisper in your ear. “I have half a mind to take you right here, they can watch. I bet Steve would like that. Do you want Steve to watch baby?”

As turned on as you were, you were also a bit scared. Eddie always had a small tendency to get jealous but never at this rate. You look at him with hooded eyes.

“I’ll tell him.”

“Good.” He kisses your forehead and brings you into a tight hug. “My good girl.”

——

The talk went over quite well, to your surprise. They were a bit shocked. But considering what they’ve seen and went through, they were open to it. After the fact, Eddie offered to order some pizza

While asking the group to stay for dinner and movie. They were okay with that and you all began to settle in. Grabbing the blankets and pillows. Eddie was picking out the movie and you thought this would be as good a time as ever to talk with Steve. you walked over towards him

“Hey Steve.”

He looked at you and smiled, “hey” and said your name.

“Can we talk for a minute? Alone?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You both moved to the kitchen, the living room can still be seen from it, but at least you had some privacy.

“I really appreciate you calling and checking up on Eddie and I.”

“Oh, of course! We all thought you two were hiding something from us. Maybe even thought you both left Hawkins without us knowing.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and blinked. “Why do you think we’d leave?”

“Well, we know you and Eddie had discussed it before everything happened. Plus Eddie seems like he’s even more smitten by you. If that’s even possible.”

You nodded your head slowly, “right. But um, is it okay if, you know. You tone the dial back a bit?”

“What?” He scoffed. “I-I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”

You took a heavy breath out. “Eddie thought that maybe, there was something going on between us and just wanted us to tone it down.”

“Oh.” He looked a tad bit disappointed. “Right. I understand now. That’s completely fine. I’m glad you both are okay though.”

“Yes, thank you so much for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Yeah.” He looked past you and then back to you. “I’m gonna go see if Robin needs any help finding the snacks in the car.” He moves past you.

You felt horrible. You knew that Steve meant well. You turned around and seen Eddie looked at you. He smirked before putting the VHS in. You jumped when he clapped his hands. “Alright everyone! Let’s get settled.”

He turned to you and said your name, putting a hand out.

“C’mon baby. You know you gotta be by my side.”

Taglist: @capmedusa @lunar-flwr

@celestixldarling @nxrdamp @da-disappointment @ratherdieasthedevil @saltysoftgrungeofscience @awesomesauce-abbie @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn @bb-eilish

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie x reader #vampire!eddie #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie the freak munson #kinktober

[autumntouched]

Day 15 of Ode to Phoenix

Summary: Natasha and her college roommate are reunited to be a pain in Hangman's designated driver's ass

Pairings: Potential Jake "Hangman" Seresin x O/C

Warnings: Lots of alcohol consumed

A/N: This is just pure tequila fueled fun. AU Phoenix and Hangman from my other fics. I was playing around with a spy-ish thriller idea where Phoenix's friend is kidnapped in the course of her work, Phoenix and Hangman fly the rescue, but tabled the story. Here's where it started/what's left.

Taz and Laz

It was on another tequila fueled night during college that Taz and Laz were born, the christening of Natasha’s lifelong friendship with her best friend and roommate Layla. But on their current tequila bender, they’ve exchanged their college dorm room for The Hard Deck. 

It’s been over a year since they’ve seen one another, but it’s as if no time has passed since they spent nearly every single day together. They’re catching up, dancing and singing along to the jukebox selections, and collapsing into one another with laughter. It feels so good to let loose for both of them. 

Laz pulls herself out of Natasha’s arms, wiping the tears of laughter from her cheeks, and waves Penny down for another round. 

While they wait, Laz leans her elbow on the bar and looks over toward the pool table. “Taz, I think it’s about time we showed these boys what a real game of pool looks like,” she says. 

Natasha looks over and smirks, seeing exactly what caught her friend’s eye. The guys are strutting around the table, leaning into their shots like they're playing a high stakes tournament for money. They’re not as good as they think they look. Laz is ready to step all over some egos. 

There’s a lot people probably can’t tell about Laz at first glance. “It’s funny,” she’d once told Natasha, “it often feels like I’m invisible when my hair is curly. But as soon as I straighten it, suddenly everything changes. Makes me a good spy, doesn’t it?” And she’s probably the closest person Natasha knows to a spy. Behind the cat-like almond shaped eyes is a sharp, analytical mind used to assess and track down some of the world’s most elusive cyber terrorist threats. She tells everyone that she works in government relations for a tech company. 

Her father retired as a Navy admiral and all night Hangman jumps every time one of the senior officers approaches them, thinking they are about to be reprimanded for their increasingly raucous laughter, only for the captains and admirals to grab Laz into a hug and ask about her family or give her an update on their kids. To his astonishment, and Natasha notes how rare it is to make Hangman’s jaw drop, she doesn’t always bother with ranks. 

“Do you know who that was?” he asks stupidly after one of them walks off.

“I changed his four of his children’s diapers for five dollars an hour,” Laz shrugs. “I don’t worry about those things unless I have to.”

Penny arrives, tequila in hand and a warning with her pour. “I’m cutting you off soon, Layla, before I have to answer to your dad tomorrow.”

Laz throws her head back and laughs. “Ms. Benjamin we both know the one you’d really have to answer to is my mom.” 

Natasha snorts, in on the joke. Laz’s dad might be the admiral but her mother is the rules and appearances bound stickler. 

“It’s ‘Penny’,” Penny reminds her with a fond smile. “You make me feel my age.”

“You know her too?” Hangman demands, looking between them. 

“Penny knows what my umbilical cord looked like,” Laz smiles. “Which is why I’m never getting used to calling you by your first name.” 

Hangman is along for this ride as their designated driver. There aren’t many places Laz can let her hair down these days, and a Navy bar might be one of them. They’re too old for the shenanigans of their younger years, but Natasha doesn’t plan for either of them to be able to drive by the end of the night.

“Taz,” Laz nods solemnly, holding up her recently filled shot glass. 

“Laz,” Natasha salutes. They clink their glasses, touch them to the bar, then throw them back. No lime, salt, or chaser. Laz smacks her lips and checks the pool table again.

“Ready?” she asks, five shots and a moscow mule in.

Natasha grins. “Ready.” 

They slide off their bar stools, the alcohol hitting them full force when they finally stand. Natasha sways before she gets her footing. 

“Whoa,” giggles Laz, draping her arm over Natasha’s shoulders. With their height difference, it’s something she only accomplishes in the tall heeled boots she’s wearing. “This is gonna be a game.”

For once, Hangman inserts himself as the responsible voice of reason. “Maybe you two should go for a round of water instead of pool.”

Laz juts her pointed chin at him. “They’re going to think we’re drunk. We’re winning this one.”

“Definitely winning,” Natasha giggles. 

Hangman looks at her like she’s grown a second head. He’s likely never seen her like this, the carefree happy-go-lucky Taz side of her. Which is ironic, since alone, Laz is far from carefree or happy-go-lucky. She’s one of the most intense people Natasha knows. 

Arms draped around one another, Natasha and Laz saunter over to the game. Natasha negotiates their way in, the guys eyeing them for an easy win. Hangman practically slaps his forehead when Laz names their offer. 

“Why would you let her do that?” he demands when Laz holds her hand out for the cue stick. “I’m not sure she took a straight step over here.”

Natasha smirks. “Watch this.”

Laz examines the table then hefts the cue stick in her hand. And suddenly, she’s laser focused and steady. She pockets the ball neatly, not an ounce of force wasted. Hangman and the guys look like they’re reassessing the competition. 

“Show ‘em what you got, Taz,” Laz cheers when Natasha’s up. 

The other thing people can’t tell about Laz at first glance? Her electives in college included viticulture and the mathematical theory of pool, and she had a habit of multitasking her assignments. Natasha was at first her reluctant opponent until, eventually, it became a regular ritual for them. Laz liked to call it “Wine and Balls.”

They crush the game, only a challenge because they’re so far into the tequila. The guys shake their hands with new appreciation and Laz collects. She goes back to the bar for another shot. Instead of returning to where Natasha and Hangman are waiting for her, though, she heads to the bathroom. But she comes back not long after. “There’s a line,” she announces, brow furrowed.

Natasha has an inkling of where this is going. “Laz, you’re too old to do that.” Laz stands quietly for a moment, head tilted. Then shrugs and heads for the patio. “Wait!” Natasha chases her down.

“What’s she doing?” Hangman asks, hurrying to keep up as they dodge patrons in Laz’s marching wake. 

They follow her out onto the beach, her figure wobbling into the darkness. She glances over her shoulder once and waves them back toward The Hard Deck.

“Fuck,” Natasha sighs. There’s no point in stopping her now. 

In the distance, barely visible from where they’re standing, Laz pauses by a cluster of beach brush. She kicks at the sand with her foot for a few moments. Then kicks at it again. She looks around one last time to make sure Natasha’s the only one watching then crouches out of sight. 

She’s gone for maybe a minute before she straightens and wipes her hand on her jeans then across her mouth. Laz kicks at the sand again. She takes a swig of the tequila shot then spits it out. After several rinses, she heads back.

Natasha crosses her arms. “I can’t believe you just did that,” she scolds when Laz is within hearing range. “You have a doctorate degree now.”

Hangman glances down at her. “Did she just boot and rally?” 

“Yes.”

“And rinse her mouth with tequila?”

Laz is close enough to hear. “What? Do you have mouthwash, Bagman?” she calls. "Sue me, I'm resourceful."

She manages to get to them without breaking an ankle walking through the sand in her shoes. “I think I’ve got another game in me and then we should probably get food.” 

“No, we’re getting food now,” Hangman decides.

Laz looks at Natasha. “Game or food?”

“That wasn’t up for a vote!” Hangman protests. 

“If we wanted a babysitter,” Laz complains, “we would have invited Rooster.”

Natasha admires her friend’s ability to be absolutely wasted, only partially informed about Hangman and Rooster’s dynamic, and still fire an absolute bullseye.

“Game,” Natasha agrees smugly, just to mess with him and see what he does. 

He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a quarter. “Heads we play pool, tails we play darts,” he offers. 

Laz catches her lip with interest. These are the stakes she likes. “Who makes the call?”

“I’ll let you, if you ask nicely,” he suggests.

Natasha does a double take. Is he flirting now? With her best friend? 

“Heads,” Laz decides. “Please.” 

Hangman flips the coin and palms it onto the back of his hand. They all lean in for the result. He groans and Laz snaps. “Looks like another game of pool, Bagman.”

She loops her arm through Natasha’s and waves for him to follow. “Do you really want to play another game?” Laz whispers as they make their way back to the pool table. 

Natasha confesses she did it just to annoy Hangman. 

“Oh good,” Laz sighs. “Me too. I want tacos or pho.” 

Hangman’s not sure whether to look annoyed or relieved when they announce that they’ve reconsidered and are ready to go.

By the time he pulls up to Natasha’s townhouse after tacos, Laz is passed out across the armrest in the back. To her surprise, he turns off the car and gets out with her. 

“I’ve got her,” Natasha promises.

“This is easier.” He opens the door and coaxes Laz awake enough to lift her into his arms. She curls into his chest. "You know, your personality sometimes really gets in the way of how hot you could be. Just saying."

Jake looks stunned, and Natasha snickers. "Maybe something to consider there, dickhead."

He scowls at her. "Geez, Phoenix, do you complain about me to all of your friends?"

"I have an amazing support system," she grins.

She can't wait to tell Laz what way too honest thought fell out of her mouth while drunk. Of course, Laz is the kind of person who wouldn't say anything drunk that she wouldn't be willing to stand by sober. The only difference is how diplomatic she is about it.

Natasha leads the way to her apartment. She throws a sheet and pillow onto the sofa for her friend, knowing that Laz will wake up at some point and get herself ready for bed. Or sleep until the morning and change her clothes then. Hangman sets her down gently. 

“Are we home?” Laz murmurs.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. 

She struggles to sit up. “My pillowcase,” she mumbles. 

“Her what?” he asks Natasha who goes to her bag and rifles around until she finds the satin fabric. 

“For her hair,” Natasha explains. 

He props Laz up against him while she fixes the pillow for her friend. “Thanks, Jake,” Laz sighs before drifting off to sleep again. 

Not that she’ll remember, but it’s suddenly "Jake"? Huh, this could get very interesting. And maybe there are some things her friend won't be willing to stand by in the soberness of the morning.

Ode to Phoenix Masterlist

#ode to phoenix #28 days of phoenix #phoenix fic #natasha phoenix trace fic #natasha trace fic #natasha trace #top gun phoenix #tgm fanfiction #tgm fanfic #tgm fics #hangman x oc

[zscalatian]

FF7 Secret Santa 2022

Hey, thanks for taking a look at my letter!   You don’t have to use anything here but if you want inspiration or to know things that I like, here you go.

General Likes: - Gen preferred over shippy stuff, and plot over fluff.  (Can be very low-stakes plot, though.)  Happy, or hopeful, or bittersweet endings, not tragic ones.   - Hurt/comfort;  Action/adventure;  Stories inside stories;  Missing scenes and backstories;  Post-canon fic; AUs where the setting is more than background scenery - Platonic relationships;  Family relationships;  Found families;  Established relationships;  Poly relationships;  Intense and complicated relationships;  Queer narratives and normalized queer relationships; -Characters bonding;  Characters dealing with and recovering from trauma and PTSD;  Interrogation and subversions of gender roles;   - Competent and butt-kicking female-presenting characters;  Justifiably angry characters (especially female-presenting ones);  Sunshine sweethearts;  Characters undergoing identity crises;  Characters undergoing crises of morality;  Stubborn characters who refuse to give up;  Characters being competitive;  Characters reaching out to each other - physically and metaphorically;  Looking out for each other/having each others backs; - World- and lore-building;  Detailed setting descriptions;  Fighting/action scenes;  Banter while fighting;  Shenanigans and hijinks;  Game mechanics & meta folded into the narrative;  Moral complications -  Scrapes, cuts, and bruises or a bit more extreme with injuries, blood, and bandages;  Curative Magic;  Physical scars;  Tattoos;  Being tired/exhausted;  Sharing a bed, curled up on the couch together, cuddling;  Kisses on the nose, cheek, eyelids, forehead;   - Food and cooking;  Travel and road-trips;  Exploring different cultures;  Flowers - giving/receiving flowers, language of flowers, flower crowns, gardening;  Hair - Brushing it, taking care of it, braids and trying different styles, pulling things out of it, characters messing with each other’s hair;  Fashion - clothing design, textile work, clothes shopping, characters exploring their personal style, how a character came to wear their canon outfit;  Animals - characters with their pets or around livestock and working animals;  The performing arts;  Dancing;  Characters building or creating things with their hands, their minds, and/or their powers. - Fairytale tropes and motifs, especially if they’re twisted or interrogated;  Tarot imagery and symbolism;  Dreams and nightmares;  Stained Glass;  Seasonal motifs;  Hanafuda motifs;

Art Likes: All of the above, of course.  Playing with color, layout, style.  Light and Shadow. Detailed and intricate art is nice, but so are minimalistic styles.  A sense of place.  Easter eggs and hidden images.  Symbolism.  Tattoos.  Graffiti.  Flowers.  Pretty hair.  Artist's personal interpretations of characters - if you have a mental image that differs from canon, I'm cool with it.

General DNW’s: NSFW - implied or fade to black is okay; A/B/O dynamics; Character bashing - please write characters as complex and three-dimensional; Drug use; Unhappy endings; Extremely violent horror; Relationships that are filled with negative drama; Sexual violence; Unrequested relationships; Fake relationships; Soulmate AU’s; Gratuitous violence/cruelty; Crackfic;

Not that interested in (but are okay as minor side characters or in mention) the Turks, The kids are all right characters, the Remnants, or Deepground.  You’ll observe that character death and animal death are not in my DNW’s.  If the story needs a sacrifice, the story needs a sacrifice.  Please exercise your judgement here.

Fandom Likes: Game mechanics & meta.  Materia lore and summons.  Mako & the Lifestream.  Chocobos.  How SOLDIERs and AVALANCHE are treated post-Meteor.  Rebuilding around the planet after the WEAPON’s attacks.  Buster Sword legacy.  Working/fighting as a team.  Zack and/or Aerith and/or Wedge lives.  SOLDIER tears glowing.  SOLDIERs having enhanced senses.  Nibelheim as culturally similar to mountain town and Black Forest Germany.  Tifa and/or Cloud accidentally speaking with their old Nebil accent.  Fenrir.  Different people back-riding on Fenrir.  Scenes featuring the cast’s physical scars.  People actually wearing the armor accessories (earrings, rings, bangles, ribbons, etc.)  References to the compilation.  References to the state of the natural world & eco-systems.  References to Norse mythology;

Seventh Heaven Family: Kid or Teenage Denzel and Marlene.  The adults being good parents for Marlene and Denzel.  The kids calling the adults Dad/Mom.  Taking the kids sight-seeing around the planet.  Camping, swimming, fighting monsters as a family.  Visiting the snow, beach, forest, desert.  Visiting other AVALANCHE members.  The kids helping around the bar.  Teaching them to ride chocobos.  Starting a garden.

Cloud: Being into weapon designs, blacksmithing, motorcycles, and mechanical work.  His memory issues.  Looking into Cetran lore post-meteor.  Afraid of being happy.  Competent on his own, wanting to be alone, and learning it’s okay to rely on others, letting them help him.  Doing maintenance on Barret’s arm.  Having wings. In CC Zack’s limit for Cloud is meteor rain, therefor it logically follows that before mako Cloud’s top tier limit as a cadet and trooper was in fact, meteor rain and that he knew how to use it.

Barret:  Complicated feelings about his gun arm post-Meteor, and getting his new prosthetic.  Being a rough teddy bear.  His love for the planet and natural world.  Looking into eco-friendly energy.  Owning the bar.  Knows how to sing and has a rich voice.

Tifa:  Bartending & drink mixing.  Team mom & mama bear.  Playing the piano and thinking about her mom & dad & home & Nibelheim.  Scraps and cuts from a fight aka bloody knuckles & nose, split lip, etc.  Buff Tifa.  Being slightly enhanced from her fall into Mako.

Aerith: Her spice & sass.  Friendship with Red & Tifa.  Relationship with Minerva and the lifestream, summons, WEAPONS.  Cetran heritage.  Good at baking & sucks at making drinks.  Gardening & love of growing things.

Zack:  Considers himself a good person but is actually morally gray and has to confront that at some point.  Protective.  Dog person.  Big hearted & loves fully and deeply.  Zack being a touchy-feely person, with little respect for personal space.  Explaining/working with the DMW & why Zack’s limit breaks are copies of other people’s limits.

Angeal: Maintenance on the buster sword.  Being good at reading people.  Martyr complex.  What does it mean to be a man, SOLDIER, human, monster, friend?  Cooking & gardening, a domestic type.  The conflict between his sense of justice and honor and navigating Shinra politics.  

Kunsel: Stealth helping AVALANCHE.  Reconnecting with Zack.  Checking in on Aerith after Zack’s disappearance.  Checking in on/maintaining the church garden after Aerith leaves Midgar.  Joining up with AVALANCHE.  Being a good/nosey friend/bro.

Characters/Relationships Cloud Strife & AVALANCHE Cloud Strife & Reeve Tuesti Biggs & Jessie & Wedge & Cloud Strife Zack Fair & Angeal Hewley & Cloud Strife Zack Fair & Kunsel & Cloud Strife Zack Fair & Kunsel Kunsel & Cloud Strife Kunsel & Aerith Gainsborough Angeal Hewley & Cloud Strife Essai & Zack Fair & Kunsel & Luxiere & Sebastian & Cloud Strife Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife & Barret Wallace & Marlene Wallace Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife & Barret Wallace & Marlene Wallace & Denzel Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife &  Marlene Wallace & Denzel Zack Fair & Aerith Gainsborough & Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife Marlene Wallace & Denzel Denzel & Cloud Strife Barret Wallace & Marlene Wallace Denzel & Cloud Strife & Marlene Wallace Zack Fair/Cloud Strife Cloud Strife/Barret Wallace Cloud Strife/Angeal Hewley Cloud Strife/Wedge Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife/Barret Wallace Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife/Tifa Lockhart

Other side pairings Barret/Myrna Cid/Shera Vincent/Lucrecia

Prompts: (Feel free to mix and match any of these together if you like) 1# Cloud meets Cloud; Somehow Cloud meets another version of himself.  (Or several versions of himself.)   Time travel (forwards or backwards), alternate time line, alternate reality, dimension hopping, puppet Cloud, clone Cloud, hallucination/imaginary, weird materia effect, mini, etc.  

Go dark, angsty, surreal, fluffy, found family, action/adventure, comedy (but not crack), your choice.  Pick anywhere in the timeline.

If you want, along with alternate Cloud feel free to add extra versions of Tifa, Barret, RedXIII/Nanaki, Aerith, Yuffie, Cid, Vincent, Cait Sith, Reeve, Biggs, Jessie, Wedge, Zack, Marlene, Denzel or Claudia. (Preferred optional parings - Cloud/Barret, Cloud/Barret/Tifa, Cloud/Zack, Cloud/Zack/Aerith, Cloud/Tifa, Cloud/Aerith, Cloud/Tifa/Aerith, Cloud/Wedge, Gen or creepy dysfunctional Sephiroth/pupet!Cloud, Sephiroth/Clone!Cloud.)

2# Canon Divergence Let’s ignore canon.  Cloud as SOLDIER.  (Character death okay)

Version 1 - Degradation and Nibelheim never happened.  Cloud, as Zack’s student, made SOLDIER.  Something happens that makes Cloud, Zack, and/or Angeal question whether honor/pride/dreams are compatible with a company like Shinra.  Answer: no.  What do they do about it? (Preferred optional parings - Cloud/Zack, Cloud/Zack/Aerith or Gen.)

Version 2 - Cloud made SOLDIER but still left Shinra.  Maybe he becomes a mercenary, defects to Wutai, or joins AVALANCHE.  His mentor Zack is sent after him. (Preferred optional parings - Cloud/Tifa, Cloud/Barret, Cloud/Wedge, or Gen.)

Version 3 -  Cloud is sent after company traitor and deserter fellow 1st class SOLDIER Zack Fair and/or Sephiroth.   (Preferred optional parings - Zack/Aerith, Cloud/Zack/Aerith, one sided Cloud/Zack, or Gen)

Version 4 - Cloud made SOLDIER but still left Shinra.  Now as an ex-SOLDIER he’s been hired by AVALANCHE.  Here he meets Zack Fair, one of AVALANCHE’s ragtag members. (Preferred optional parings - Cloud/Zack, Cloud/Zack/Aerith, Cloud/Zack/Aerith/Tifa, or Aerith/Tifa)

Version 5 - Shinra is not evil.  SOLDIER dad Cloud looking after Denzel and/or Marlene with his partner/s.  Slice of life in the tower/military.  Angeal, Reeve, Cait Sith or Cid cameos welcome. (Preferred optional parings - Cloud/Barret, Cloud/Barret/Tifa, Cloud/Zack, Cloud/Zack/Aerith, Cloud/Tifa, Cloud/Aerith, or Cloud/Tifa/Aerith.)

Version 6 - SOLDIER Cloud vs the One Winged Angel.  Cloud is not special to Sephiroth, he’s just another SOLDIER.  Or he’s the legacy of Sephiroth’s lost friends - Angeal and Zack (who are both dead now).  Or it’s Angeal, Zack and Cloud vs the One Winged Angel.   (Preferred optional parings - Cloud/Zack, Cloud/Aerith, Cloud/Aerith/Zack, Zack/Aerith or Gen.)

3# Genre shift/AUs; I really enjoy a good AU, get into the meat and explore these worlds/settings.  Pick a genre shift or AU and have fun!

Genre shift AU: Space Opera;  Space Western;  Western; -I love Firefly and Cowboy Bebop and grew up on cowboy westerns. I’d love to see AVALANCHE in that sort of setting. Whether they are bounty hunters, smugglers, mercenaries, cowboys, ranchers, or running a saloon, that is up to you. The Highwind and Shera would make wonderful spaceships. Feel free to swap horses and chocobos, have both, or swap chocobos and cattle if you like. -Shinra is a great antagonist. From corrupt company or government to President Shinra just being a greedy A-hole making their lives difficult.  Feel free to use the SOLDIERs, Turks, or Hojo as additional antagonists here.

Animal shape-shifter AU:  Go big and flashy or small and mundane.  One character as the shape-shifter or everyone.  Have them keep it a secret or something everyone knows about/can do.

Wing AU:  Cloud with wings.  One wing? A pair? Many?  What color or style?  Why does he have them?  Is he still freaking out, resigned or are they normal for him?  Do other people have them?  Set in canon or AU.  Just want a story with wings.

Mer AU:  I really like the idea of there being different types of mer (reef, open ocean, abyssal, fresh water, etc,) as well as a mer’s appearance taking after real fish and other aquatic animals.  Not that interested in seeing mer/human interactions, more what is life like in the water.

 Cloud is a Selkie:  Someone finds Cloud on the shore of the cold, wild sea.  Maybe he’s injured, maybe he’s lost his seal skin, maybe something else happened.  Whatever it is, it prevents Cloud from flipping them off and going back to the sea immediately.

Monster & Fall or Winter holiday AU:  Either the cast are monsters or they live in a world with monsters.  Looking for creatures and inspiration from Scandinavian, Nordic and Germanic folklore.  Maybe blend it with Final Fantasy/FF7 lore.  Less modern version of holidays more Historical version, Pagan or Fantasy holiday.  Cold weather.  Food, world building.  (Yes I want monsters and holidays mixed.  Don’t judge.)

(Preferred optional parings for all AUs- Cloud/Zack, Cloud/Barret, Cloud/Angeal, Cloud/Wedge, Cloud/Aerith/Tifa, Cloud/Tifa/Barret, Cloud/Zack/Aerith, Cloud/Zack/Aerith/Tifa, Zack/Aerith, Aerith/Tifa, or Gen.)

4# Time Travel I absolutely love time travel, so here are a few different prompts to work with.   - TT Cloud leaving “gifts” for Zack.  Post-time travel Cloud mentoring Zack.  TT Cloud being reborn as a twin to CC Cloud (with or without his enhancements).  TT Cloud ends up looking after/traveling with/fighting his younger self. TT ACC Cloud and CC Cloud as teenage cadets together. - TT Cloud going back far enough to save/free Ifalna.  Cloud goes back to after the Nibelheim incident has already happened.   - Cloud traveling back with Denzel and/or Marlene.  The Seventh Heaven Family traveling back.    Barret as a single time traveler.    Denzel and/or Marlene are the time travelers without any adults.  The kids meeting mama Strife. - Buster Sword legacy fic with Cloud and/or Zack as the time traveler/s.  Having the fusion swords and the future buster sword with him/them would be cool, as well as Angeal’s reaction to an upgraded buster sword.  Angeal & Genesis being called out on their actions in Crisis Core.

-Things I like in this genre are: older-self interacting with younger self;  Hojo and President Shinra getting their comeuppance;  The time traveler having to separate their feeling/opinions on someone’s past self from their future self;  Ripple effects;  Having to deal with something they didn’t know or at least didn’t have all the details for;  Interacting with previously deceased family and/or friends;  The time traveler being overpowered/lvl 99;  Time traveler having end game gear;  Revealing they are a time traveler & others' reactions to it;  Others trying to figure out what makes the time traveler so weird (answer - time travel, duh);  

(Preferred optional parings - Cloud/Zack, Cloud/Barret, Cloud/Angeal, Cloud/Tifa/Barret, Zack/Aerith or Gen.)

#ff7 #Fanfic Exchange #ao3 gift exchange #letter #secret santa

[lokigayforhela]

I'm imagining Hela and r as humans, and they are married and rich and someone calls reader Mrs. Odinsdottir, ohhh I would think of it as very fancy

A/N: I gotta be real honest here. I finished this prompt WEEKS ago and really thought I had already posted it, but I saw the ask still in my inbox today and went “Hm.” So please have it now! Enjoy~

WC: 1170

Rating: PG for implied shenanigans~

TW: None

You’d only officially been married to Hela Odinsdottir for all of two hours, and already you were feeling a bit like a fish out of water.

To be fair, you’d known as long as you’d been dating Hela that she was, in the most polite way of putting it, a trust fund baby who had gone on to build her own success. Which meant that she had been drowning in money for as long as she’d been alive. It didn’t bother you, in the least. She erred on the more humble side about it all, and was never one to overly brag about her wealth, and the wealth that she had come from.

Okay, perhaps that was a terrible lie.

More aptly put, Hela didn’t brag about her wealth to you, and more importantly, she never made you feel any lesser than her for not having the same advantages that she’d had throughout her life. In all honesty, from the time you’d become serious, she’d insisted that what was hers was yours, and had taken any and every opportunity to absolutely spoil you in any and all ways that she could. And you certainly weren’t going to complain about that.

Even your wedding had been such a grandiose display of wealth that you’d joked with some of your friends and family that you felt vastly unprepared to enter social life as Hela’s wife. You knew how cut-throat and catty some of New York’s more wealthy citizens behaved, and if you were being honest, that wasn’t the kind of person you wanted to become, and you certainly hoped Hela would never go to that extent either.

But you had to admit, the wedding had left you feeling like an absolute princess, and you weren’t going to let anyone or anything ruin your day.

“Mrs. Odinsdottir?”

Initially, you ignored whoever was speaking to you, as it hadn’t quite registered in your mind that you, too, were now Mrs. Odinsdottir, and it wasn’t until they took a step closer and repeated the title that you realized that she was, in fact, speaking to you.

You smiled a little sheepishly and immediately turned to look at the woman. “…sorry, I… sort of forgot that I’m Mrs. Odinsdottir now, too,” you admitted, grateful when the woman laughed along with you.

“I understand. And actually, I was hoping that I could get a few words from you on how it feels to be marrying into one of NYC’s wealthiest families? For the magazine spread we’re running on the wedding?”

She pulled a handheld recorder out of her bag, and you blanched, having completely forgotten that that was a thing, floundering as you tried to recover.

Luckily for you, you were saved by your wife approaching, two champagne flutes in hand, one of which she offered to you. “Go on, Mrs. Odinsdottir,” she teased, letting you know that she’d overheard the entire conversation so far. “I’m invested in what you have to say.”

You settled against her side as she wrapped her free arm around you, and smiled a little nervously at the magazine reporter. “Ah… It’s daunting. To be quite honest. I mean, yes, I’ve been involved in the scene for as long as Hela and I have been dating, but there’s something more… nerve-wracking, about actually somewhat legally having a stake in it.”

Hela made a slight impressed expression, and looked over at the reporter, who was nodding along.

“So you still feel a bit like an outsider looking in, you’d say?”

You laughed softly, aware of Hela’s gaze fixated on you. “I mean, wouldn’t you be? There’s a lot to keep track of, a lot to be involved in. Fundraisers, charity balls… who’s dating who, and who inherited what. It feels a bit like they’re all waiting for me to slip up and say the wrong thing. Or worse, I think they think I’m going to try and take Hela’s money and run with it.”

“And would you? I mean, theoretically speaking, of course. If you had the chance.”

You only smiled, turning your head to look at Hela and smiling even more when you met her gaze. “Never. I love Hela. Not her money or inheritances or family. Just Hela.”

Hela hummed softly, and you couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her gently, despite being a little shy at having such a close audience.

“And what do you say to that, Mrs. Odinsdottir?”

The reporter held the recorder in front of Hela now, who only smiled coyly as she downed her entire glass of champagne in one sip.

“I say that I’m the luckiest woman alive. And that I don’t know what I did to deserve Y/N, but I sure am grateful that someone up there decided to reward me for such good behavior.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you all laughed, and you took a sip of your own champagne as you watched the reporter switch off her recorder and tuck it back into her bag.

“Thank you, both. We’ll send over a mock-up of the article and photos we’ll be using for your approval before we send it to the editor. And congratulations to you both, again.”

You smiled and nodded while Hela raised her empty glass toward her in a mock toast, and once the reporter had walked away, she turned back to look at you, wrapping both arms around you.

“Well, well, Mrs. Odinsdottir. What a lovely interview you gave.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling as Hela kept looking at you. “Please. I hardly even knew what to say without making a fool of myself.”

“Well, the good news is that you didn’t. In fact, you made me very proud. So proud I think you’ve earned a nice little reward, so how about we… ditch this reception…” Her grin grew absolutely mischievous as she let her free hand trail down the curve of your waist to settle at your hip. “…and go find somewhere a little more… secluded… to do our own celebrating, hm? We have the entire presidential suite to ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah? Plenty of room for exactly the sort of shenanigans you had in mind, right?” you teased, seizing the opportunity of a nearby waiter to set both of your empty glasses on as they passed by.

“Oh, yes. All sorts of shenanigans. In the bathroom… In the bedroom… The kitchen… Balcony, if you’re feeling risqué enough.”

You hummed out a quiet laugh. “Deal. On the exception that we get a few more glasses of champagne in us so we’re just the right amount of tipsy.”

“Why, darling, it’s like you don’t know me at all. We’ve got a whole bar upstairs for our private usage.”

You grinned. “Then what are we waiting for? Race you!”

You picked up the skirt of your gown enough so that you could scurry in the direction of the elevators, the sound of Hela’s heels clicking behind you the only sign you had she was giving chase.

#Hela x reader #Hela Odinsdottir x reader #Hela #Hela Odinsdottir #Marvel #fluff #shenanigans #modern au #anonymous #ask #answered #thank you for the prompt! #i hope i proofread this the last time i worked on this fic oops

[lumiereswig]

sorry if this is a bother but if you're still writing fics, could i please get uhhh fic with the 1991 characters but everyone's personalities are the stark opposite of their canon selves?

lmaoooo

so beast is this soft-spoken dude who looks less like a wildebeast and more like a sandhill crane, with soft gills sprouting from his neck and beautiful grasshopper antennae instead of horns. he is cursed NOT for being an insufferable little bitch but for instead being so OVERWHELMINGLY nice to the enchantress that, after offering her his home-made peanut butter casserole for the 17th time, she decides nobody could ever love this sad-sack kindly wimp until he grows a spine, and curses him to learn to be loved in his new weird, soft, slightly floppy form.

(the enchantress’s personality in this is less providence-sent moralizer of justice and more chaos-drenched humbug with a gift for thinking up the exact wrong way of teaching any lesson.) 

belle, meanwhile, is busy going on a fuckin rager because in this timeline she’s impatient, impetuous, extroverted, and going fuckin insane in this bewilderingly boring little town. oh yeah, she’s still intelligent, but this belle flies off the fucking handle if she has to deal with these dick-brained villagers one more time, GOD the way they’re so pompous and cosmopolitan, ughhh if she hears the baker quote ‘hamilton’ in that pseudo-smart way he’s so fuckin fond of she’s going to take a flame-thrower to everyone and everything in this town

oh yeah. in this version she’s not much of a reader. what she IS fond of is pyrotechnics and anything that explodes

maurice is a v boring accountant who sticks to the straight and narrow and is thus VERY alarmed when on his way to his annual Accountants Of Extreme Boringness conference he ends up in an enchanted castle. he is further alarmed when he is immediately snogged by an impetuous, flirtatious, devil-may-care son of a bitch baroque clock

the clock is pulled off him by an uptight, nerves-wrecked candle who looks like he’s melted at least four inches just trying to keep up with his clock husband. the thing about clocks, he anxiously explains, is they’re sort of ticking time bombs when it comes to pulling off shenanigans

‘don’t have a meltdown,’ scolds the clock, and promptly leads the candle in a high-stakes round of erotic tango

maurice passes out immediately and no one can blame him.

belle, having busied herself all morning seeing if she can blow up the backyard fence more effectively with nitroglycerin or dynamite, notices her father has gone AWOL and hasn’t yet brought back the one thing she always asks for when he goes on trips, i.e., high-octane gunpowder. she high-hoes off on her horse, and ends up at the castle, where she kicks down the door and is alarmed to see her father being served jellied crumpets by some kind of long-necked heron wearing a cravat.

the beast is QUITE willing they should all leave immediately but only if he can give them a pan of scotcharoos before they go, and can he get them anything nice to wear, it’s kinda cold out there are they sure they’re gonna make it? after the 50th offer of being allowed to spend the night belle is like. FINE. FINE. FINE I’LL FUCKING STAY, YOU FUCKING GENEROUS PILLOCK. CAN MY FATHER GO HOME AT LEAST

uh sure ok! says the beast. he’s just excited that belle might want to do a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle with him and maybe they can make popcorn

belle is quickly introduced to the whole staff, which includes a crotchety bottle of Scotch whisky named Mrs Potts, her shy shot-glass son, a quiet bookworm closet, and a hatstand that will not shut up. she tries to meet the clock and candle but the clock is very invested in broadway-style show numbers and performs an entire song with a kickline backup of tapdancing pocket watches

lumiere frantically insists to belle that she must forgive this ridiculous intrusion, the english are just like that, you know. he loses his train of thought when a pretty young feather duster comes into the room and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the night

belle and beast spend their days with belle constantly trying to leave and the beast managing to get her to stay just by being so blindly, consistently kind with her. belle finds that ....she kinda likes it. it’s nice to have someone to feel at home with. one time she really does try to leave and gets as far as the woods, but then the beast follows her and passes out when he sees a particularly frightening tree. she finds herself loving his S O F T N E S S

i should probably write gaston into this but frankly i can’t be bothered. somethin bad happens (the villagers storm the castle because they think a performance of ‘hamilton’ is happening there?), belle accidentally blows the entire thing up, the beast thinks that’s frankly the coolest shit he’s ever seen, and belle happily marries her weird crane-man and fuck the curse, the enchantress has forgotten all about it and nobody really minds it anyway. it’s kinda cool being a candelabra, right? especially when that rococo clock keeps slipping you kisses behind the ballroom curtains

#lol a disaster fic #CRACK #CRACK FIC #jfc writing this was....a RIDE a TRIP a VOYAGE TO A NEW WORLD #happy friday here's the dumbest fic i could possibly write #batb fanfic #asks #beauty and the beast #batb 1991 #i almost wrote plumette in but i stopped myself in time #91 is HARD. i prefer the trash characters of 17 because who cares if i fuck them up? thye were fucked up to start with!! #i cant do worse than bill condon and that's always deeply comforting

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 3, Now in Color

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: Things are going well between [Y/N] and their new partners but what shenanigans will ensue as the Maximoff baby’s arrival quickly approaches and they’re pulled into the throughs of building a nursery and… child delivery?

Word count: 10,640

Warnings: Cotton candy fluff, chaos, baby. So the usual, plus babies.

Tag list: @madamevirgo​ @ravennight41​ @multifandomgirl16 (It won’t tage you for some reason, I’m sorry ;-; ) @cyanide-mustard​ @badasspolygenderfriend​

~~~

    You huffed and sat back on your heels, slipping a sore finger into your mouth. “Stupid bird.”

    The bird in question, a pink flamingo made of plastic and wire, seemed to sneer at you from its position sticking a few inches farther out of the grass than it should be. Because of this, you could still see the main stake sticking out of the bottom of the bird’s standing foot, which, much to your distaste, made the pink plastic-feathered creature look like it was trapped on a piece of wood impaled in its foot rather than lounging on one foot in the lush green grass of your yard. 

    You had spent a good portion of today working on your yard and garden and waiting for a member of the household across the street to step outside and beckon you over. Dressed in overalls stained by grass and dirt, a brightly colored T-shirt, a sun hat, and working shoes, you forced yourself to keep busy by planting new flora and putting down new garden fences and decor while Vision and Wanda were tucked away indoors, preparing for a baby. You were the only one so far to know about the Maximoff bun in the oven outside of the parents and although it seemed like just last week that Wanda had gotten pregnant, the baby had finally big enough that the couple had to involve a doctor to make sure all was going well.

    It also felt like not long ago that the couple had asked you out for the first time. Both of them. At the same time. It was news to you that they had felt even remotely felt the same way about you as you had about them but the rest of that conversation had gone swimmingly with you being too nervous and dumbstruck to do much more than blubber questions. The first date and then the second went a similar way, with you not being completely sure that you were on a three-person date or even awake. Luckily, your new partners were just as unnerved as you were and the three of you agreed to simply play it by ear and communicate a lot. 

Some time and a few sporadic dates later and things were going smoothly. Almost every bit of free time was spent at either their place or yours; if it wasn’t free time, you were giving Vision rides to work and leaving cute messages in the files you left at his desk—you always hoped they were cute, anyway, and not annoying, only to be reassured when you got a smiley back or your favorite treat from the breakroom left with the file when it was returned—or trying to help Wanda clean or cook or take a break despite her stubborn fussing against it. Vision was the first to give you a pet name, Wanda was the first to hold you in place when you attempted to pull away from a normally quick handhold or hug, and you were the first to press kisses to both their cheeks after walking them home from dinner. Wanda fell asleep on your couch first, you on theirs second, and Vision went ahead and turned cheek pecks into lip kisses. You weren’t quite ready to initiate them yourself yet but you hadn’t been complaining when Vision caught you on your porch steps and kissed you on the mouth; the rain that had just started had either been just a bonus or his initial inspiration.

    As nice as everything has been, though, you were still worried about overstepping boundaries with the married couple so when Vision invited you over to be a part of the doctor visit, you politely declined. Instead, after the doctor left, you were to head over and bring your tools to help set up the nursery; it was also your joint job with Vision, who was now a baby book reading master but also increasingly bugged out about Wanda and the baby’s health, to try and convince said woman to relax for once in her life—a task difficult enough to be on the list of Hercules’ Twelve Labors, you were convinced at this point.

    For now, though, you were sitting with your feet beginning to cramp and your knees getting damp and most likely more grass-stained, glaring at the devil in pink whose foot-stake had left your finger with a prick from a splinter and whose one visible dark eye stared at you with sadistic mirth.

    “Oh, you wanna go, Bernard?” you scoffed at the bird-shaped plastic, dropping your hand from your mouth and pushing yourself up into a squat. “I’ll call you out. Let’s go!” You raised your hands in a fighting stance and bounced on the balls of your feet as you prepared to strike.

    The sound of a chainsaw starting up caught you off guard mid-bounce and you lost your balance but what caught your eye when you twisted around while rubbing your now-bruised tailbone was Vision walking outside his front door with an older gentleman, presumably the doctor. However, you paid very little attention to said other man as you laid in the middle of your yard, twisted into what was probably a partial yoga pose, resting your chin on your arm and making lovey-dovey eyes at the former.

    Not that it was surprising at all, Vision looked very nice today. He was wearing dark blue pants and a similarly colored sweater over a collared shirt and tie, with a honey-brown jacket topping everything off; you couldn’t imagine wearing a shirt plus two outerwear items in the heat of the day but you certainly didn’t mind seeing him all dressed up. His hair was somewhere between jaw and shoulder length and wavy as ever and while you weren’t a fan of the popular 70s cut, he not only pulled it off but made it look incredibly attractive. He greeted his next-door neighbor Herb, who started up the chainsaw, then spoke animatedly, as he always did, to the doctor. Talking about keeping the baby news to themselves, no doubt.

    Vision watched as the doctor walked off down the sidewalk and as he happened to pass in your direction, Vision’s gaze refocused to settle on you instead. The expression on his face changed from purely friendly to something deeper and you felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he waved over to you.

    “Hello, perfectly platonic neighbor!” he hollered, to which you responded in kind after snorting and then disentangling yourself from your strange position.

    No response from Herb about the odd greeting. The cul-de-sac, and in Westview in general, people didn’t seem concerned with your trio’s out-of-place shenanigans as long as it didn’t directly affect them, you had noticed over time. You could have probably walked over and planted a brazen smooch on Vision’s perfect mouth while out in the open, with other neighbors milling about, and no one would bat an eye.

    But that’s exactly what we’re not going to do, you thought stubbornly as you stood and brushed yourself off. Not yet, anyway. I want to make sure they’re both comfortable with it first. 

    Vision seemed to grasp what your plan was because he waited for you as you gave Bernard the flamingo a fight postpone notice and then a light kick before walking across your yard and heading across the street. If you had been more rational, you would have grabbed your tools so you could have just come inside when you reached the Maximoff house but your brain, muddled with the pink mist of freshly requited affections, could only think of getting closer to the man, maybe even holding hands or nuzzling noses. 

    A sound that was equal parts loud and awful caught both your and Vision’s attention as you reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Looking over, you both saw Herb cutting away with his chainsaw, only now he wasn’t cutting through bushes but the stone wall separating his and Wanda and Vision’s homes. The stone blocks of the wall weren’t super heavy-duty, you supposed, but the sound made you cringe, and the sight was a little jarring. Herb didn’t seem to realize was he was doing despite the lack of hedges in his path.

    “Hey Herb,” Vision yelled over the noise, “think you might’ve taken the hedge trimming a little too far there, old chum!” As he spoke, he glanced over at you and, seeing you nearby, instinctively shifted in your direction; you moved to meet him halfway and you each gave the other’s hand a quick affectionate squeeze, though both pairs of eyes were trained on Herb.

    Herb, who looked up, smiled, and responded, “So I have! Thanks, buddy.” Despite saying this, he continued to cut through the bordering wall and stare glassily ahead as if none the wiser. 

    The expression gave you an unnerving sense of familiarity but you couldn’t quite put a name to the vague memory of a person you’d seen wearing it. Acquiring a migraine medication and forcing yourself to not look too hard into every strange thing that happened in this town helped but your headaches appeared to never quite go away. This was proven by the muted throb across one side of your head that came with looking at the bizarre scene.

    “Yeah,” Vision said a little quieter, “don’t mention it.”

    The action only happened briefly but when you caught him chewing his lower lip, you felt your innards tie themselves in knots and had a particularly hard time tearing your gaze away. Now that you were closer, you also noticed that the blue and brown ensemble he wore perfectly matched his hair and eyes. That hair that you always desperately wanted to brush your fingers through.

Fingers carefully slipping around your hand, like if they held you any tighter your own would break, managed to catch your attention as Vision turned to lead you inside.

    “Oh,” you chirped, tugging your hand back to point a thumb over your shoulder, “I forgot my tools. Meet you in a minute?”

    Vision seemed persistent to bring you inside, even going so far as to catch both your arms and doing a playful series of shimmies and sways to dance the two of you closer to the front door. Now that you were out of Herb’s frozen line of sight, the two of your found yourselves standing so close together that there wasn’t a single pocket of space between your bodies. When you inhaled, you smell cologne that wasn’t too light or too heavy and a scent that you could only describe as the heat of a warm, sunny day. Thinking as he would only smell sweat and dirt and grass if he did the same, you blushed and made a note to change before you came back over.

    Whatever Vision thought about how you smelled or the clothes you wore, he didn’t seem to care enough, if at all. He took advantage of being out of sight to move his hands from your hours to your waist—a much more convincing position indeed—and nuzzled his nose to your hairline, now exposed as your hat rested farther back on your head.

    “You know very well that you can use ours,” he said.

    You felt his warm breath on your forehead. If you weren’t standing up and didn’t have the nagging feeling that you were getting dirt on his nice sweater, you would have been perfectly comfortable simply hugging him and dozing off in the cozy embrace right there.

    Vision continued in a lilting voice and with an added shimmy that brought the two of you directly to the front door. “They’d love to see you, you know.”

    They? Your brows furrowed a bit, then rolled your eyes. Oh, Wanda plus baby.

    Still, you steeled your resolve and leaned away from him. He looked at you like he was a puppy that had been kicked, to which you responded with a faux scowl. “Mr. Vision Maximoff, I said I was going bring my tools, and [Y/N] is no flake. Besides,” you paused as your scowl melted into a smile, “I don’t want to get dirt and grime all over the new room. It’ll only take a minute; you act like we can’t see each other through our living room windows if we wanted to.”

    Making his last attempt, Vision leaned into your arms, which were now around his own, and pressed his cheek against your temple. Still pouting, he muttered, “It only took Wanda and I going around a few times before we moved in together.”

    The idea of you living under the same roof as your couple and their new baby made you giddy as much as it made you feel like you wanted to throw yourself into a lit fire pit to save yourself from embarrassment. 

    “Ah, yes, a spectacle to behold,” you said as you leaned away again, “A new baby and a new roommate!” You saw Vision open his mouth to speak, no doubt to respond with a quip, and quickly continued, disentangling yourself from him as you did, “Gotta skitty, I’ll be back momentarily!”

    “Well,” Vision replied, dragging out the last consonant as if you were going to change your mind if he did so long enough; when you didn’t, he huffed a bit. “Alright then. Hurry back!”

    You gave him a smile and two-fingered salute then bounded down the steps and back across the street. You only stopped once on the quick trip back home and that was to give Bernard another swift kick, which somehow lodged the bird the rest of the way into the ground, and a “Fuck you, Bernard!” You heard sputtering laughter from across the street that made you grin as you marched inside to change and grab your toolkit. 

    The tools were the easy part; they had been sitting out on the table in your dining area since last night when you’d originally suggested the idea so you were sure to not forget them. It took a bit longer to struggle your way out of your clothes, especially while simultaneously trotting to the bathroom to wash your hands and splash water on your face. It took longer still to jog back to your bedroom without slamming yourself into an end table or plant along the way and then also go through every piece of clothes you owned; when bright colors and eccentric outfits came into style, you were, for once, ahead of the fashion game with your regular closet, and your wardrobe only continued to grow as the rest of the country’s interest in the style did. You were particularly interested in peacock fashion and it showed in your array of ruffled, brightly colored, and loudly patterned shirts and blouses. 

Of these blouses, you threw on one in a burnt orange and yellow paisley pattern, choosing one without ruffles in fear of ripping them while working. You paired the shirt with matching yellow walk-shorts that ended just above your knees and a pair of honey-brown clog sandals whose color made you think of Vision’s outfit. Thinking about this further, you decided to accent your ensemble with a touch of blue, wrapping your hair that was still damp with sweat back with a satin scarf that was a vibrant blue and some handmade jewelry pieces in the same color to match. Finally, you added a woven belt and, after looking in the mirror for a moment, decided to tie your blouse off an inch above the waist of your shorts instead of tucking it in before booking it back across the street.

    Standing at the door of your couple’s house, you took a final glance at yourself in the reflection of one of their windows before knocking. You let yourself in after Wanda invited you with a holler through the door and you were greeted with the interesting sight of Wanda, in all her stunning, colorful, mother-to-be glory standing by the long dark-wood dining table; Vision, half-hidden behind her belly that seemed significantly larger than the last time you saw her, was taking an awkward knee while holding up a variety of fruits.

    “I’m never not uniquely surprised when I walk into this house,” you said mostly to yourself and you made your way over. Reaching Wanda, you sat your bag of tools on the floor by her feet and gave her a gentle hug. “Hey, sunshine, you’re looking foxy.”

    You certainly had gotten a lot more comfortable with them recently. 

    Wanda visibly blushed, giving you one of her signature fake irritated looks—a tilted head with tight-knit brows and tight lips that broke into a smile less than a second later—and lightly swatted your arm before carefully returning the hug. “Hey sunshine yourself. Look at you, you’re glowing! And those threads, you’re a regular Casanova.”

    She made a point of eyeing your partially exposed midriff and you almost blushed—but not quite.

    “Glowing,” you repeated, playfully patting your face, “I’m not even the pregnant one! Thank you, though. Some of the colors were inspired.” You took your turn eyeing her, particularly the bright red of her striped dress that was a common color in her palette, then you caught Vision’s bright blue gaze as he stood and placed a couple of fruits back in their rightful place in the basket on the table. You moved to Wanda’s other side to help him. “Why the fruit?”

    “Oh, well, the doctor said it helps the mothers keep track of the baby’s progress.” Vision explained. He added another fruit to the basket’s tower, although he was giving the last one in his hand an odd look.

    “What he actually said was,” Wanda added, grasping your shoulder and tugging you over two put an arm around your waist and give you mildly strained look, “it helps make things ‘simple’ for us ‘little ladies.’”

    You recognized the glint in her eye and nodded understandingly. “Well that’s mildly condescending, must’ve been just groovy.”

    “Out of sight,” Wanda agreed in the same tone. She then looked in Vision’s direction with raised brows; you followed her gaze and saw the man toying with the large green fruit in his hand. “Hey, honey? What’cha doin’?”

    Vision met both of your equally puzzled gazes with barely contained glee. Voice tight from holding back a giggle, he raised the fruit and pointed at it. “I can’t wait… to be… a proud… papa-ya.”

    Wanda looked amused at the future father’s pun and Vision grinned, clearly happy with the reaction. You actually laughed before quickly throwing up a hand to cover the titter.

    “Well, that just proves it,” you said after composing yourself even though your company seemed perfectly pleased with your reaction to the joke, “you’re going to be a wonderful one. Look at you, turning into a proper one already.”

    Vision went from smiling to flusteredly chewing at his lip quite quickly; he would always get easily flustered but never enough to blush. Instead, he’d twist his head a certain way and rub his neck and shoulder, maybe even avoid eye contact if he was embarrassed enough. He’d always tug his bottom lip between his teeth too, something you couldn’t help finding just a touch more endearing than the other mannerisms; at least it gave you a much more rational reason to stare at his lips for longer than generally accepted.

    “You really think so?” he asked.

    You scoffed as you moved to pick up your tools again. “Of course, you and Wanda will make absolutely stellar parents. The two of you are more prepared now than I’ve seen some people after they’ve already had the kids. Now,” you paused as you stood up straight and looked at your couple with a cheerful smile, “shall we head to the nursery?”

    You were partially convinced that you had been invited solely to help Vision wrangle his wife. You certainly hadn’t been invited to help decorate; even pregnant, Wanda made faster work of your tools than you did. You were huffing while maneuvering a rocking chair in the room and by the time you got it settled in the corner, Wanda had already pieced together the changing stand that was to sit next to it. You turned to grab a tool to open the cans of paint only to turn back around and see all of them opened and Wanda with a brush in hand, painting away. You managed to get the crib up before she could get her hands on it but when you looked around for the yellow mattress and bumper cushions, you looked up to find Wanda already putting on the finishing touches.

    Now, you were kneeling on the ground by the crib and painting a delicately rendered stork while Vision was getting to his feet after reading all the reasons Wanda should be resting instead of doing what she was doing, which was pulling a mobile of colorful plastic butterflies out of a box and shifting ever so closer to a stool so she could hang it.

    “Darling,” Vision tried, shifting ever so closer to her, “you should probably sit down.”

    “You really should,” you offered your help, almost half-heartedly because you already knew the outcome before she said it.

    “Don’t be silly,” Wanda assured him, “all I feel is excitement, happiness, and— huhnf! Oh!”

    You were on your feet and spun around to give her a wide-eyed stare before her gasp even finished, but instead of pain or worry, Wanda’s face was lit up with wonder as the hand not grasping a plate fluttered around her stomach. Vision also moved quickly, to step forward and pressed his hand on her stomach.

    He breathed, “Kicking already?” and they shared an excited stare.

    You stared awkwardly from the side with a paintbrush in hand, feeling more out of place you’ve ever had in your life.

    Until Wanda, without missing a single beat, turned her head in your direction and grinned. “[Y/N], you have to feel this!” Then she spoke to Vision, “Oh, it’s such a strange sensation, it’s kinda fluttery!”

    She was breathtaking. Then her nose scrunched up and she giggled in a way that could also be described as fluttery, and you were wondering in which states polygamy was legal and where was the best jeweler to get a ring.

    Still, you were trying to refrain from overstepping boundaries.

    “Oh, I don’t know…” you mumbled, shifting your weight from foot to foot and glancing around the room. You noticed the mobile she had been retrieving the last time you’d looked at her was already hung up above the crib; of course, it was.

    Wanda scoffed and made a gesture at Vision, then he was walking over and coaxing you to her side with an encouraging nuzzle to your temple.

    “I just don’t want—” you started.

    “To overstep, we know,” Wanda finished, the giddy look on her face replaced with a scowl. “Trust me, this is probably the one and only time I’ll ask for someone to feel my stomach while everyone else in the town just does it willy-nilly and besides, you are a part of— Oh!” 

    Her gasp and glance over your shoulder, combined with the sound of movement behind you was enough to make you turn your head, only for Vision to catch your attention in the opposite direction.

    “Another kick!” he exclaimed, just a little too loud. You thought you caught his gaze flitting over in the same direction as Wanda’s but then he was grasping your wrist and placing your hand against Wanda’s stomach. At the same time, his arm that was hovering politely around your back pressed against the naked small of your back as he pulled you closer into the little triangle of space you, Wanda, and he made; the sudden heat there made your blood boil in the best way and when his hand accidentally caught on the hem of your shorts and dipped a little lower over the fabric, you choked while sucking in a breath.

    Vision’s hands flew up to the sky and he scrambled away, apologizing profusely. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hands fluttering around, could imagine his eyes doing the same, and you were vaguely aware of Wanda moving at your other side, the fabric of her sleeve brushing against yours as she waved her arm. You also heard a sound that you chalked up to being a breeze coming from the open window and rustling the drawn curtains. You, usually the final piece of the chaotic puzzle, were instead staring down and softly gasping as the sudden tap against your palm. 

    “I felt it,” you whispered and the chaos that was happening around you seemed to still in the same moment as Wanda and Vision settled back around you to feel themselves. You repeated the phrase, brushing your thumb across the patch of clothed skin, and the baby responded with another kick a moment later. You couldn’t help looking up at Wanda a face frozen in almost childish wonder, and state the obvious, “You’re gonna have a baby.”

    Wanda nodded at you with shining eyes and a wet smile. She wrapped her free arm around her midsection and looked back down on her belly. The expression on her face radiated an intense, loving tenderness and you felt a billion non-plastic butterflies make a comfortable home in your chest.

    You followed her gaze and felt your face break into a grin so wide that your cheeks started to hurt almost immediately. Your hand, along with Wanda’s own and Vision’s, created a loose but ever so protective triangular shield over the place where you had felt your first baby kick, promising to move the universe for them should it ever be required. Despite the overlapping mess of fingers, you noticed how Vision’s hand was the perfect size to envelop your own and that even with a ring on one of them, Wanda’s fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between yours.

    The nervousness and insecurities that seemed to bounce around your head whenever you observed your couple, in their perfect world with their perfect dynamics, melted away in the comfortable warmth that came from your trio’s cozy huddle. This wasn’t a story about you or them separately but the three of you together and it was a wonderful one in the making.

    Then, “Oh.”

    Wanda looked up at her husband and echoed, “Oh.”

    You looked up second, adding your own questioning “Oh?” before your gaze settled on the butterfly lightly perched on the tip of Vision’s nose. “Oh!” Watching the monarch’s delicate wings fluttering, you were surprised he hadn’t already sneezed. 

    “Hello, little fella,” Vision softly said. He was the first to separate your group, stepping away and leaning down a bit for your and Wanda’s better viewing. His smile was blinding for the brief moment you caught it, before tilting your head away to snicker at the way his eyes were crossing to view his insect passenger.

    Wanda gently coaxed the butterfly onto her fingertip and walked over to the window to release it. That’s when you noticed a group of the bug type coalesced around the same area; the sudden visit from Mother Nature must have been what she had seen earlier.

    “Oh, my,” you said, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

    The smile on Wanda’s face tightened for just a moment as her gaze jumped around the baby room, then relaxed as she maneuvered the various colorful butterflies outside. “Bringing good vibes, hopefully. They must have been enticed by the mobile; why, they even tried to free their plastic friends!”

    You looked towards the crib curiously and saw that the mobile hanging above it was only a series of transparent hanging strings. Walking over, you found the butterflies that had once been attached to it scattered around the mattress. You picked a couple of them up and carefully pinched the thin material between your fingers. “Hm, strong butterflies.”

    “Clearly,” Vision agreed. He walked over to the rocking chair he had been sitting and reading baby books earlier and picked up his most recent read.

    Meanwhile, you began gathering up the scattered butterflies, then climbed up the nearby stool to retrieve the rest of the mobile. “You wouldn’t happen to have a good adhesive laying around, would you? I can have this fixed up and rehung lickity-split.”

    “Not laying around but I’m sure there’s one in the cabinet under the sink.” Vision seemed to find the page he was looking for. He glanced over the words, tensed up immediately after, and paced over to Wanda’s side as she shut the window. “If that was first kick, that puts you at about six months! Why I can’t keep up!”

    Has it been that long already? You silently wondered as you made your way over to the exit, careful not to crush any of the delicate pieces you were holding. While Vision was thinking in terms of babies, you were surprised that you had already been dating him and his wife for almost half of a year.

    In a signature dad-to-be fashion, Vision waggled his head down to give Wanda and the baby a kiss. Then he said in an equally identifiable dad’s voice, “Please don’t misinterpret. I can’t wait you meet you, little Billy!”

    You leaned against the doorframe as you offered Wanda an amused look; you had been previously graced with the conversation of baby names and Billy wasn’t exactly on her roster.

    “Billy?” she questioned, to which Vision gave a smile and an affirming noise. Wanda continued, “Well I was thinking Tommy. Just a nice, classic American name.”

    Vision gave an exaggerated, head tilting nod that suggested a mild disagreement. Then the higher-pitched tone he took when he replied confirmed it. “Hm, Tommy! Hm, mm… then there’s Billy, isn’t there? Named after William Shakespeare, all the world’s a stage, all the men and women many players!”

    Wanda went to speak but you beat her to it. “You’re sure it’s a boy, then?”

    Your partner seemed mildly embarrassed as she turned her attention to you. “Strong intuition?”

    You offered casually, not thinking about your lack of say in the matter, “What about Victor? Vin? Little Vinny’s certainly a cute nickname.” Almost immediately after you finished, it was your turn to be the embarrassed one. You stumbled over your words a bit as you started to apologize, only to falter when you saw both Vision and Wanda’s gleeful stares.

    “Well, those are wonderful names too,” Wanda assured you, clearly pleased you had chimed in, “but I’m not hoping for quadruplets. I guess we’ll need the next best thing— A girl.”

    Your shoulders relaxed from their hunched places that you hadn’t noticed they took. You chuckled and strolled out the door, throwing a couple more ideas over your shoulder, “Vivian! Virginia! Nadia!”

    Vision’s voice floated after you as you walked to the kitchen. “Ooh, Vivian’s quite good…”

    When you returned to the bedroom with good-as-new mobile in hand, only final touches needed to be added to the nursery, and Wanda and Vision’s excitement over the baby’s coming was suddenly amped up to eleven. The two were pacing around and frantically listing off the all things that they had left to do or buy. It was a very drastic change from the casual playfulness that you had experienced between them earlier, as the new parents were keeping themselves—and you—busy with a thousand new tasks. Eventually, Vision had a list about as long as he was tall of every bottle, diaper, blanky, binky, children’s book, and stuffed animal that they had yet to get.

    Deciding you were now the more sane member of the group, you decided to take the list and go shopping for them; if you didn’t, Vision may have been swept up in the baby section of a clothing store and never return. That’s how you ended up where you were now, at the front of an ever-growing line of department store customers, waiting anxiously as the workers tried to get the lights back on and the cash register back in working order.

    You rapped your fingernails on the countertop—not intentionally, just out of worry about how your parents-to-be were managing at home—and glanced from your bloated shopping cart to the cashier, who was talking quietly with a manager then back several times. You were antsy about being stuck in a store when you were much useful elsewhere and being concerned about whether you were making the cashier uncomfortable with your mannerisms, for they were probably three times as unsettled as you were, wasn’t doing anything but adding on to the stress.

    Finally, the cashier turned back to you and the rest of the shoppers and announced, “Good news, everybody! The register is still down but it’s a quick switch to manual; we’ll have each and every one of you checked out and on your ways home soon!”

    A cheer erupted around you but you were too frazzled to join in.

    “Unfortunately,” the cashier continued as the noise died down, “we’re not the only store experiencing this. It’s the whole town.”

    While the crowd’s disappointed “Aww” only appeared mildly disgruntled, you went rigid and your mind began racing, all thoughts revolving around a particular household.

    One random thought of wondering What if Wanda went into labor right now? had the hair on your arms sticking straight up.

    You slammed your hand down on the counter, spooking both the cashier and yourself.

    “Ma’am,” you started, then paused to quickly apologize for your rudeness before continuing, “I need you to check me out as fast as humanly possible; I think my—” Wife seemed way out of line but girlfriend felt too out of place. “—pah-art-ner’s having a baby.”

    You were struggling to your car with a small mountain of baby items in the arms in a matter of minutes, mentally kicking yourself for being bad at talking the entire way there. You threw your bags in the back, scrambled into the driver’s seat, and were getting ready to pull away from the curb when a ringing from your mobile phone sounded.

    “Goddammit,” you huffed. One hand was pulling up an antenna and pressing the technological brick to your ear while the other gripped your steering wheel so hard that your knuckles turned three skin tones lighter. “Yeah, hello?”

    “[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice was a welcome surprise but her worried tone wasn’t.

    “No, it’s your husband, I’m on my way home now, dear,” you snarked, then mentally kicked yourself again. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m in a rush. What’s crackin’? Besides the town going into blackout, that is.”

    “The neighborhood’s flooded,” Agnes said simply.

    You blanched. “I’m sorry?”

    “The cul-de-sac? Something’s happened and all the pipes have burst. Mine, Herb’s, Dotty’s, everyone’s!”

    How on earth the day’s mood has changed so quickly, you had no idea. What you did know is that you desperately had to get back to Wanda’s side, your house be damned.

    “Thanks, ‘Nes, good to know,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You rested your phone between your ear and shoulder as you put both hands on the wheel and started driving.

    “Do you want me to do anything?” Agnes asked; her voice sounded as frazzled as you and the rest of Westview looked. “Go over to your place, grab anything important?”

    You huffed out a sigh as your car flew around a corner. “Agnes, you know I adore you, but I really, really have to go.” 

    “[Y/N]—”

    You hung up and tossed the shoe-sized device in the passenger’s seat.

    Vision met you on the curb as you were parking your car and he had the doctor from earlier that day in tow, now dressed in vacationing attire and very seeming very underprepared. Within a few words and as if you had accidentally wished it into existence back at the department store, you were informed that Wanda was in fact about to have little Billy or Tommy or who-have-you. Of course, this messy day would come to a peak in such a way.

    The taller man was half-escorting, half-hauling both you and the doctor to the door, and the bags in the backseat of your car were completely forgotten as concern chewed away at your insides. Loud, strained sounds coming from inside only added onto it.

    As the three of you reached the front door, Vision flung it open and pressed the doctor inside. Then he grabbed your wrist and began tugging you in after himself.

    You couldn’t help your feet freezing to the concrete. “Vis, are you sure?”

    The distress on his face softened just slightly and he pressed the back of your hand to his lips. “Of course we are.” Then he wrapped an arm around you and properly, albeit quickly, brought you into his and Wanda’s home—

    —where Wanda was laying on the floor, panting and shimmering with sweat and holding a baby wrapped in a blue and white dishtowel while Geraldine perched awkwardly over her.

    You and Vision shared a bug-eyed look before Vision’s turned into one of sadness. You wanted so badly to hug him and tell him it was alright but he was already releasing you and slowly walking over; you trailed a couple of steps after him.

    “Oh no,” he murmured, “I missed it?” However, when he took a look at Wanda’s softly smiling face and their happily cooing baby, whatever brief grief he was experiencing was replaced by a proud smile and new fatherly glow.

    “Hey, doc,” Geraldine spoke suddenly, “why don’t you help me out in the kitchen there?” She nodded in your direction as well.

    You wondered why she was there, in Wanda’s home or Westview, at all. The idea made your stomach flip but you just couldn’t place why.

    The only response the doctor gave was blubbering about speeding as she took his arm and led him away. You began to follow when Vision stopped you with a gentle tug on your arm.

    “No, [Y/N],” he said, “it’s alright. Stay and come see.”

    You didn’t even think as you smiled and took his hand. You took a glance towards the kitchen to make sure the other company was occupied, then kissed the back of his hand as he had done only a moment earlier. Squeezing it and letting it drop, you responded, “Go say hello to your baby. I’ll always be here.”

    Given the current situation, Vision wasn’t up for arguing much. He gave you a quick peck on the temple before gingerly making his way over to where Wanda rested happily on the living room floor.

    You made your way to the kitchen, where you slumped against the kitchen counter as exhaustion overtook you. You were close enough to both parties to hear Geraldine’s blatant attempts at distracting the doctor to your left and Vision and Wanda’s cozy rumblings to your right, but too out of sorts to make out anything tangible. You didn’t realize until now how badly your feet ached from the combination of gardening, decorating, and running around and how your outfit had lost its cute playfulness in place of wrinkles and feeling slightly damp from sweat. You were sure you were looking more worse for wear than Wanda, despite Wanda having had a baby, but when you thought about it for more than a second or two, you felt like you wouldn’t trade the day for any other in the world. 

    Especially when thinking about that cutie patootie, you thought with a tired smile. He’s gonna have such good parents. Such a good life.

    Suddenly, your train of thought was stopped by the sound of Wanda yelling and your whole body jerked in her direction, energetic as ever.

    Wanda was going into labor a second time, you could see easily see. Something somehow more surprising was going on in the living area, though, and that something was Vision’s skin. While he still wore his regular clothes, that was the only normal thing about him. Instead of light skin, his flesh was a deep red and you weren’t even sure it could be called skin; it looked more… mechanical than that, with symmetrical lines etched into some places and silver plating covering others. Instead of a full head of wavy hair, he had none, and his ears and parts of his bald skull were also covered in silver. Silver came to a peak at the top of his forehead and at the end of it was a golden gem.

    Vision was holding his baby and yelling along with Wanda as she began pushing a second time. He happened to glance up and catch your bewildered eye and then he started yelling because of you.

    You stood frozen in place, not sure what to do until you heard a commotion behind you.

    “Well, what’s going on now?” Geraldine started.

    Your brain kicked back into full gear and thinking quickly and somewhat stupidly, you yelled and pointed in the opposite direction, “Jeepers creepers, is that a stork?” You couldn’t imagine why your poor attempt at a distraction worked but you considered it a success as Geraldine and the still-disoriented doctor’s attention settled elsewhere. Not missing a beat, you grabbed another cloth from the kitchen and raced to Wanda and Vision’s aid, skidding to a halt on your knees.

    “[Y/N],” Vision said, though nothing else followed. He stared at you in pure shock, mouth flapping and the bright blue irises of his eyes twisting and shifting like a camera lens as he looked at you. Still, his body worked despite his befuddled mind as he took the cloth you handed him and offered you a newborn baby to hold instead. 

    “[Y/N],” Wanda gasped through her current endeavor. When you dragged your head to look at her, she was staring at you with a clenched jaw and equally wide eyes, which were filled with a mixture of surprise, horror, and… relief? Then she was screaming and pushing again, eyes squeezed shut, and her hand flew to your own.

    You grabbed it and held on tight, even when her fingernails dug in enough to leave marks for days. While a red and silver-skinned Vision handled the delivery like a champ—a bugged out, stammering, robotic champ who couldn’t figure out whether he should be looking at you, his wife, or the baby he was helping into the world but a champ nonetheless—you switched between offering encouraging words to the tiring new mother and cooing calmly at the newborn swaddled and resting cozily in the crook of your arm. Soon enough, Wanda was slumping back into the pillow behind her head and Vision was sitting back on his haunches with another quiet baby snuggled against his chest; your taut muscles sagged and the exhaustion you hit in the kitchen came rushing back. 

    You made sure Wanda was lucid enough to take her baby back and carefully transferred from your arms to hers. It was only after he was safely in his mother’s grasp that you were able to fully relax, tossing an arm around Vision’s shoulders and leaning heavily against him while you shook out your other hand, which was red and covered in deep, crescent moon-shaped marks.

    “So,” you puffed, “Billy and Tommy?”

    Wanda’s tired face lit up as she nodded her head towards her baby. “Tommy.”

    Vision, who was leaning on you as much as you were on him—something in the back of your head noted that the two of you held each other very well and that something sent a little pang of affection straight to your pounding heart—used his turn to nuzzle the forehead of the baby he held and grumble in a half British, half baby-talk accent, “Billy.”

    You hummed while stretching a hand down to give Billy a very ginger boop on the nose; he didn’t seem to mind. Then you said, “Vinny and Vivian will just have to be next time.”

    Your group shuddered with a mess of tired, soft laughter. Then you began to relax further but as the excitement of childbirth began to wear off, you a new variation of tension settling into your couple. The new parents were sharing increasingly worried looks and if they were communicating telepathically, and it was then that you remembered that the man sitting next to you was for less human than you’d previously made him out to be.

    The realization seemed to hit him at almost the same time because his head swung to look at you just as you had turned to observe his new appearance. On his robotic face—was robotic even the word; was he a robot?—was an expression of outright fear but also something that looked like he was mentally being torn in two different directions. He went to speak several times—his mouth and teeth looked the same, perfect and familiar—only to verbally scramble and backtrack, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders since his hands were too occupied to scratch his neck. Finally, he appeared to get himself in order and he started, “[Y/N], I can— we can explain—”

    You ran your hand over his scalp and down to rest at the base of his neck; the silver plating felt like metal, while the thick red epidermis was warm and softer to the touch. Not only warm but damp from exertion, and pulsing softly to some form of a heartbeat where you ran a finger over a common pulse point. 

    While your mental energy was rapidly declining, you still managed to quip at the man, “As much as loved the idea of running my fingers through your hair, I think I prefer this over that awful cut that’s in style right now.”

    That left Vision dumbfounded and silent, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish out of water. On your other side, who had been otherwise quiet and already snoozing as far as you were concerned, broke into a burst of loud laughter that was music to your ears.

    You grinned in response but your muscles were too tired to make it reach your eyes. You shifted over slightly to be closer to Wanda now and brushed your thumb over little Tommy’s cheek before resting doing a similar action to his mother’s. Wanda relaxed her head against your palm and the way she looked up at you from under her lashes made you do mental gymnastics about the ethics of blurting out the L-word then and there.

    Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last much longer because then Geraldine’s voice floated over from the kitchen, getting louder as she and the doctor made their way back from the wild stork chase you sent them on. You quickly looked to Vision, only to see him looking as human as the day you first met him, and noted the sad little string you got from seeing simple blue irises instead of the intricately shifting blue ones that swirled mechanically as he focused on something. It only lasted a moment, though, before you and your trio were busy readjusting yourselves into what you considered normal poses but in reality, probably made the three of you look much more awkward than you previously had.

    You’d just finished settling as Geraldine and her companion walked into the living room and, thinking tiredly and definitely stupidly, you blurted, “Jeepers creepers, another baby!”

    “Twenty fingers and twenty toes, you’ve got two healthy baby boys on your hands.”

    “Thank you, doctor,” Wanda responded as the man handed Billy back to her. Vision stood watchfully next to her, holding Tommy.

    You poked your head up from behind the second crib you were finishing assembling and as the doctor turned to thank Geraldine for her delivery help, you said to the Maximoff couple, “And a second crib all ready to go. If they’re not fans of sleeping separately, let me know and we can exchange the ones you have for one big one.”

    Wanda held out her hand to you as you stood and you walked over to hold it only briefly as she thanked you before leaning over and crooning at Billy and Tommy in turn. You were in the company of others, after all, and there had been enough excitement for one day without revealing your polyamorous relationship to a neighbor and a random doctor.

    It was weird how different the energy felt standing with them now than it had earlier just that day alone. Things still felt new and strange but you no longer felt like a separate unit from the household you were standing in or the people standing and smiling oh so sweetly at you. Then again, maybe that’s just what being involved in the arrival of an unexpected set of twins and making a superhuman discovery about one of your partners did to all blossoming romantic triads in the seventies. 

    Speaking of the doctor, as he began to finish up chatting with Geraldine, Vision beckoned you closer, and after getting an okay to do so, he carefully laid the baby he held in your arms. He gave Tommy a nuzzle and a light tap on the nose, then straightened up and headed towards the door.

    He said to the other man, “Allow me to walk you out, doctor.”

    “Oh, alright,” the doctor responded with an odd quiver in his voice. Said quiver was confirmed to be restlessness, which you had no doubt was attached to some sort of superhuman business Vision had involved him in when picking him up, when he continued, “As long as we actually walk this time?”

    You would definitely have to delve into the mystery of Vision’s sometimes inhuman appearance at a later date but at that moment you were remembering how the entire neighborhood’s pipes had burst. The neighborhood of which your house was a part of and an event you were sure you hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid.

    “Oh, shi—oot,” you stammered, “I should probably get back to my own pad and save what I can from getting water damage. I haven’t even been home to see how bad everything is.” You provided Tommy with a very important explanation in very serious baby babble terms before placing him in his crib. “I’ll just leave my car on this side of the street and bring the other stuff in sometime later this evening if that’s alright with you, Wanda?”

    When you looked at her, she was giving you a confused head tilt. She blinked, then her eyes shot wide open. “Oh, the pipes!” She paused and turned her gaze to the far wall of the living room as if she could see your house through it, then looked back at you with a smile. “Your house should be fine. In fact, I think the entire neighborhood is back intact!”

    Something about the way she looked at you assured you that she was right. You wondered whether Vision wasn’t the only one with a unique secret under this roof and if all the strange happenings that had gone on today couldn’t be traced back to Wanda herself.

    Not that any of that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

    “I should still go,” you insisted, “You should really rest for a while, and I am a mess for the second time today. Maybe I can pop back over in a little bit?”

    Wanda pursed her lips in a subtle doubt before giving in. She nodded and after taking a glance around to make sure the company was occupied, she grasped your hand and leaned in closer. “Come over for dinner tonight. Stay and help us get the babies settled in? We can talk about today.”

    “Wanda, you need rest—”

    The woman interrupted, a teasing look making her eyes glitter. “Which is why either you or Vision will be doing the cooking! And you know how much I love the man but there’s a reason the only thing he handles in the kitchen is water from the faucet.”

    You had to nod in somber agreement at that statement, then sighed and gave Wanda a pout of your own. “Fine. Now, is anyone looking?”

    Wanda was smiling triumphantly. She took another quick look around, then shook her head; her silky hair fanned out slightly from its position perfectly framing her head as she did.

    You shuffled a little closer and slipped an arm around her waist in an intimate hug. Leaning in, you gave her one quick smooch on the cheek and another on the forehead then mumbled against her skin, “You did amazing.” Another kiss. “And you’re going to be a wonderful mother. Please, though, promise me that you’ll rest, at least for a little bit. The world will not crumble around you if you take one break.”

    Wanda, who had immediately leaned into your embrace and giggled as you kissed her, scoffed slightly. She gave you a tight squeeze and murmured back, “I suppose you’re right. Fine, but only because you promised to cook.”

    “Well, technically,” you said as you broke away from her, “I only said I’d come over. I can’t wait for Vision to make us burnt water and boiled bacon!”

    Wanda stared after you, frozen in a mock gasp. “[Y/N]!”

    You grinned and waved before spinning on your heels and trotting over to where Vision was perched, holding the door. “Bye!”

    When you got to the door, Vision’s hand played lightly down your back as he followed you outside after the doctor. 

    “Well, Dr. Nielson,” Vision said, “I hope you’re still able to make your trip.”

    The doctor, apparently Dr. Nielson, slowed as he stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk. He turned towards Vision with a glassy look in his eye that he hadn’t had before but you’ve been seeing more and more often in Westview residents these days. When he talked, his speech became slower as well. 

    “Ah, yes, about my trip,” he drawled, “I don’t think we’ll get away after all. Small towns, you know. So hard to… escape.” 

    You frowned, suddenly uneasy. Glancing at Vision, the man just looked confused.

    Dr. Nielson’s glassy gaze shifted from Vision to you. He spoke deliberately to you, “Don’t you think, [Y/N]?” Then he blinked, turned, and walked off down the sidewalk.

    You weren’t sure exactly why, but you flinched and reeled back. You would have tripped and fallen up the porch if it weren’t for Vision catching you. Then the two of you stood gripping each other and staring as the doctor disappeared around the corner. 

    You didn’t even realize that your ears had started ringing until the sound began to fade. You started, “Well, that was…”

    “Yeah,” Vision said with a slow nod. “Very. Are you alright?”

    “Fine, I think.”

    “No migraines?”

    “No migraines.”

    The two of you stood holding each other for a moment longer before you forced your fingers to loosen their death grip on Vision’s jacket. As the two of you relaxed slightly and readjusted yourselves, several questions rushed through your head, like why was that so unnerving and why did the doctor speak directly to you.

    How had he known your name?

    A particularly sharp pain made your vision swim temporarily but it was gone as soon as it came. Before you think any further on the subject, other voices floated into your range of hearing.

    “What is she doing in there?”

    “I don’t know.”

    You followed the voices with your eyes and found Agnes and Herb talking quietly by the wall Herb had been cutting into earlier; actually, Herb looked like he’d barely moved an inch, still standing in the gap between his wall of shrubs. At least he appeared more lucid, but now he and Agnes were huddled together like they were having a secret meeting. Neither of them noticed you yet.

    Vision decided to change that by throwing up a hand and hollering, “Howdy neighbors!”

    Agnes spun around so quickly you were wonder if she’d given herself whiplash, but the strained greetings and even more strained expressions that both she and Herb gave were what really piqued your interest.

    Well, not so much piqued your interest than their actions gave you a second dose of uneasiness that made your head spin and filled you with a sense of somewhat morbid curiosity.

    Then they stuck their heads back together and continued muttering.

    “Did you see her go inside?” Agnes questioned.

    Herb responded, “She went right in.”

    Vision leaned his head closer to yours; he didn’t seem to catch what they were saying. “Do they seem… a little off to you?”

    “Just a tad.”

    You silently deliberated with each other before casually strolling over.

    “Remarkable day we’re having, no?” Vision tried again.

    Agnes and Herb looked up again, also trying to look casual but there was something definitely worrisome about their equally strained smiles.

    Vision continued, “Did you lose power too?”

    You snapped your fingers, joining in. “That’s right! Agnes, you called me about the pipes bursting. I hope nothing got too damaged?”

    “Oh, sure did,” Agnes said to Vision, “but Ralph looks better in the dark, so I’m not complaining. And you’re right, I did, [Y/N]! Luckily, everything’s just fine.”

    There was an awkward pause and even though you were out in open air, you felt like you were struggling to breathe in a sauna.

    Vision said, “Hi, Herb.”

    Herb responded, “Heya, buddy.”

    More awkward silence. 

    “Well,” Vision said slowly, lightly clapping his hands together, “I’ll get back to Wanda. [Y/N], you’re heading home?”

    “Right,” you affirmed, a little too quickly.

    What is going on?

    Vision placing his hand on your back brought back some sense of normalcy as he began escorting you to the curb.

    “Vision,” Agnes abruptly said halting your exit. You and your partner turned back to her and Herb and she continued after a long-winded pause and adjusting her awkward stance leaning against the low wall, “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

    “Yes. Why?”

    Herb piped up, “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

    Wait, that’s not right. Your brows furrowed and you felt the sting of your own bite as you chewed your bottom lip. You felt pressure in your skull as you tried to recall where you’d previously met the woman, because you knew you had, but trying to do so had a similar feeling to trying to grip water as it rushed through your fingers.

    Agnes went on, “There’s no family. No husband.”

    You would have scowled, said something in defense of your circumstances of moving to Westview without a family or marriage, but you were too busy trying to clear away the fog that quickly encroaching your headspace. Vision, on the other hand, was able to say something, “Well there’s nothing wrong with that.”

    Agnes hummed, gave a half-hearted nod, then steadily met his gaze. “No home.”

    Come to think of it, you knew very little about Geraldine. While you were positive that you’d met her before today, you couldn’t for the life of you place what she did for work, when she first appeared in Westview, what house in the cul-de-sac she lived in—

    You could list off the names of everyone who lived in your neighborhood. Geraldine wasn’t one of them.

    Your brain felt like it could expand and explode from the intense pressure at any moment but the dread pooling in the pit of your stomach from the idea of not being able to retrieve memories bothered you far more. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the thoughts away and instead mentally leaned into the pain. The harder you pushed, the more pressure pushed back, as if you were fighting against an invisible barrier that was barring you from your own memories. 

    At the same time, you attempted to keep yourself grounded by staying tuned into the conversation at hand. Vision asked Agnes what she meant by Geraldine having no home and Herb kept stumbling over the same beginning of a sentence—She came here because… She came here because… She came here because we’re all…—like he was a record on a broken player that just wouldn’t let him get out what he wanted to say. 

    Vision tried to urge him on. “She came here because what? What are trying to tell me?”

    With Agnes and Herb bickering briefly about whether or not to tell Vision whatever it was they had been speaking about, Vision completely tuned into them, and you fighting to remember things without succumbing to your migraines, you had an underlying feeling of being out of place. You’ve felt out of place before, of course, but this was something different and weird and wrong. Your entire perfect—but not so much, you were gradually learning—little town suddenly seemed like it was out of place in its state, its country, its world, its reality. Out of nowhere, Westview felt like it was trapped in a claustrophobic little bubble that wouldn’t let anyone escape and the longer anyone was here, the warped things would become—

    A memory came rushing back of a black and white talent show and a smashed mirror and an arm oozing blood and color and Geraldine was there but she was an eerie Geraldine, out of place and time and reality and asking if you knew who she was or who you were and you didn’t know the answer and then Wanda and Vision appeared and everything was okay again, and now the name Monica throbbed against the base of your neck and the air around you radiated electricity and it was itchy and no one around you was noticing anything and instead of darkness, a weird bright light was tinging the edges of your vision white and—

    There was a crash coming from the house and none of the people standing next to you were any the wiser but even though you felt like you were swimming through honey while doing it, you turned just in time to see a portion of a nearby wall explode as something shot out from inside and continued flying until it disappeared into the distance. Then there was a sound similar to a sonic boom that followed and a wave of nausea crashed over you as the electric air rippled and distorted right before your eyes, and then you could see the dome of TV static-looking energy that encapsulated your town and the dome seemed to peak directly above the Maximoff house.

    Your ears rang. Your mouth flapped open closed but you couldn’t force a single word out. You looked around and everyone else in your group seemed trapped in a strained conversation that they couldn’t escape from if they wanted to.

    You didn’t so much walk as you floated over to the gaping hole in the side of your couple’s house, or at least, that’s what it felt like as the ground grew soft and wobbly under your feet and you swayed as you moved. You reached the hole and peered through it, then waved aimlessly when you saw Wanda staring wide-eyed at you from a couple of demolished rooms away. She said or mouthed something—she’s sorry? Why?—but you couldn’t tell which it was over the thrumming of your own pulse in your ears. You cocked your head, more out of curiosity than confusion, then blinked and stared glassy-eyed as the hole in the house reversed itself.

    “Huh,” you said dumbly as the last brick fell back into place. “Cool.”

    Then your body felt as if it were slammed back onto very hard, solid ground and that’s because it was. You weren’t sure if you whined or groaned or screamed as you collapsed to the ground, succumbing to your worst migraine yet. 

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel headcanons #marvel imagines #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons #wandavision #wandavision x reader #wandavision imagines #wandavision headcanons #poly!wandavision #poly wandavision #gender neutral reader #reader insert #fanfiction #scarlet witch #vision #marvel vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #scarlet witch headcanons #wands maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff headcanons #vision x reader #vision imagines #vision headcanons

[soyforramen]

If you have time/energy, 41 for the bughead prompts pls! It’s the “overhears they have feelings for you.”

Now that i finally have the time, here’s some fluff to counter the angst!

-

             Betty paused at the door to the Blue and Gold office when she heard voices.  This late in the day, it was usually only her and Jughead still working on the college newspaper. Or, rather, while she continued working diligently on page layouts while he worked on homework on the couch.

             “It’s not that big of a deal,” Jughead said.  “Right?  So I should just say it.”

             She peeked in through the crack in the door and saw him pacing back and forth, his hands waving wildly in the air.

             “If it’s not that big of a deal, why haven’t you said it?” came a reply from Toni.  

             Strange; Toni was always the most punctual person on their team.  Her photos had been ready to print for over a week, and she rarely spent her free time in the office..  Unless Jughead had dragged her into his usual shenanigans regarding things that went bump in the night?

             “Because –“

             Jughead stopped and made a pained noise. Unsympathetic, Toni snickered, and even Betty had to cover her mouth from laughing.  As much as she enjoyed his company, even Betty had to admit it was amusing to see him get so wrapped up in himself.

             “It’s just three words,” Toni pointed out.  “And it’s not like it will kill you to say it.”

             “She might.”

             “Betty is not going to murder you –“

             “Not her, Cheryl.”

             This time, Toni burst out in peals of laughter that covered up Jughead’s response. Curious to hear her cousin’s name, Betty leaned closer to the open door.   The fiery tempered red-head was as much of a fan of Jughead’s as he was of hers, and that wasn’t saying much of anything.  

             “Cheryl is why you’re afraid to say ‘I love you‘?”

             Jughead grumbled something inaudible, and Betty glanced up and down the halls to make sure she was alone.  This close to information so pertinent to her life – Jughead was in love???? When did that happen??? Why??? - the last thing she needed was someone as boisterous as Kevin or Veronica yelling her name down the hall. Pressing herself against the door frame, Betty bit her lip and tried to calm her pounding heart.

             “The last time someone even mentioned asking Betty out –“

             Betty had to bite her tongue to keep from starting.  A pen fell from her pocket and echoed in the empty halls. There was a silence, and she waited to be found out.  

             “That was because it was Reggie Mantle doing the asking,” Toni pointed out, completely ignorant of being eavesdropped on.  She continued in a less than sure voice. “Besides, Cheryl … doesn’t dislike you.  She’d probably even be happy with you if you got Betty out of the apartment for something that wasn’t school or work.  You know, like a date?  The thing people ask about when they like someone?”

             Now too nervous to stay still, Betty rushed from the door, clutching her bag to her chest, and fled to the bathroom.  As soon as the door closed behind her, she couldn’t help but clasp her hands together in glee.  She and Jughead had danced around each other for over a year now and the closest they could get to anything called ‘dating’ had been a late-night stake out to see if the Dean of the Journalism school really was moonlighting as a click bait writer for BuzzFeed.

             She breathed deeply to calm her nerves. Try as she might, she couldn’t contain the thrill of hearing that Jughead Jones, the guy she’d been crushing on since freshman orientation, liked her.  Not just liked.  He loved her.  Betty couldn’t help but hug herself.  

             Straightening her shirt and steeling herself to be as forward as she imagined Cheryl would be, Betty stepped out of the bathroom and made her way, once more, to the Blue and Gold office. As she neared the office, Toni emerged and sent her a wink.  

             “Good luck in there, boss,” Toni said with a salute.

             Betty bit down a response and opened the door.   Jughead jumped up as if electrocuted, his face white at the sight of her.  Any other time, Betty would have rushed towards him, asking him twenty different questions to try and figure out why he looked so ill.  Now, though, it was all she could do to keep from smiling.

             “Good evening, Jughead,” she chirped.  

             He stammered a reply and she set her backpack on her desk.  

             “You know what I really love?” she asked, unable to help herself, especially when a faint blush rose to his cheeks.  “Those wontons you got last week.  Where was that from again?”

             “Klump’s Kafeteria,” Jughead said.  “Did you get my article?”

             Betty nodded, disappointed he’d jumped so quickly to business.  “I did. I really love,” she paused, sitting down on her desk and pulling her laptop out, “the way you captured the emotions in your review.  Especially whereyou talk about the mise-en-scene and how well it pulled everything together. It made the recommendation that more meaningful.”

             “Honestly?  I couldn’t stand the movie,” Jughead said.  He rolled his eyes and sat on the corner of her desk.  

             And suddenly, the spell was broken, and her regular, normal Jughead was back in front of her.  She watched his face as he complained about plot pacing and script-incongruities.  Only half paying attention, Betty wondered if he’d finally make a move.   It would be even better, though, if he’d finally notice that she’d been flirting this whole time.

             “Regardless, it was a very well written piece,” Betty said when he’d finished.  “You know what I also love?”

             Jughead raised an eyebrow at her, finally beginning to notice a trend.   “Those weird blue macaroons that taste like Peto-Bismol from Chez Bonuit?”

             She flicked her pen at him and scowled.  “You just have a warped sense of taste after eating all that grease and sugar at Pop’s.”

              “And yet who’s the one also asking me to bring them a strawberry milkshake whenever they find out I’m eating all that grease and sugar?”

             “It’s one of the little things I love you for,” Betty said, slipping it in as casually as she could. “That and the lattes you bring me after a late night editing.”

              Jughead’s eyes flew open and heat bubbled up in her cheeks.  Pressing on, Betty opened up a browser on her computer and turned it to him.

             “I also love, and I hope you will too, that R.R.J. Swift is putting out a new Play of Chairs book next month.”

             His face light up and he crowded in next to her, their faces a few inches from the screen.  “How did I miss this?  There’s no way they could get that to print so quickly.”

             “Everyone in printing was told it was a new Donna Sweet novel,” Betty said, clicking a few times until a different website came up, “so it’s been hush-hush until he broke the news an hour ago.”*

             “Finally, we can see what happens to Trienne of Barth.”

             She elbowed him lightly.  “I can’t believe you still like her after she betrayed Don Ice.”

             “I can’t help it.  I love her storyline,” he shot back, his eyes searching hers.

             Undeterred, Betty thrust out her chin.  “And I love –“

             “Yes, yes, we get it,” Toni said.  “You two are trapped in a bubble of love.”

             They both turned, blushing, to the door.  

             “Sorry to interrupt the futile flirting, but I forgot my notes,” Toni said, walking towards the couch.  She held up a notebook and shook it at them.  “Just kiss her already Jones, or I will.  And since the last time that happened I ended up going to prom with your girlfriend...”

             “She’s right, you know” Betty said when Toni left.

             Jughead cleared his throat.  “About which part?”

             “You should kiss me.”

             “I –“

             Whatever his protestations might have been, Jughead smartly decided to ignore them.  Instead, he leaned towards Betty, who happily met him more than half-way.

             A few months later, when Jughead claimed their first date was at a Play of Chairs release party, Betty couldn’t help but cover a laugh.  She loved that he was technically correct, even if it was only a party of two.

*(No, I do not know how printing works, nor do I care enough to Google this or other characters from the series.  Apologies if I’m wrong.  If I am, just pretend they’re talking about Minecraft.)

#bughead #riverdale #prompt fic

[yandere-daydreams]

Im really stupid but, Obey Me idea that I need to share. So imagine if the brothers from the OG timeline somehow manage to cross into the new timeline and unfortunately for you, they’re all yanderes and the OG timeline Brothers have gone far too long without their beloved little darling and are pretty much a single glance away from falling into utter madness while the New Timeline brothers are about to snap at the idea of sharing you with even more people- even if theyre just themselves from a different timeline.

tw - kidnapping, dehumanization, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, mentions of death.

I’m not usually one for timeline shenanigans, but hear me out - it’s the set of brothers from the timeline wherein Belphie chooses not to kill the MC, but rather than being neatly and guiltlessly irradiated after the MC leaves, they just... keep going. Without you.

Saying they’re heartbroken would be an understatement. They’re damn-near despondent, Belphie especially, considering he hardly got the chance to talk to you before you fucked off to another timeline and left your original set, the set that deserved you, to rot. It’s Barbatos’ fault, technically, so he takes responsibility. The Devildom will suffer if the Avatars are preoccupied with such a minor loss, so he opts for the fastest, messiest solution, plucking another version of you from yet another alternative timeline, one where you’ve never heard of the Devildom, much less the brothers, and throwing you to the wolves before Lucifer can sulk himself to death. It’s not as neat as he’d prefer it to be, but it works, and all the brothers are just so happy to have you back, even if you’re so scared of them, now, always flinching and shaking and fighting when they try to show you how much they’ve missed you. It’s alright, though, they’re perseverant, and it feels like you’ve been gone for years. You can’t blame them for being a little affectionate. 

But, they’d be lying if they said they weren’t a little mad. They know you aren’t really the same you that left them, but you still look the same, your voice is still so pretty and when they squeeze too hard, you’re still so easy to break. It’s part of the reason you’ll never really adjust, why you’ll never be as loving and as agreeable as you once were. Mammon isn’t going to waste time kissing up to you when his status is at stake, not when it’s faster to just pin you to the mattress and make idle threats until you agree to reform your pact. Asmodeus doesn’t want to charm you again, he doesn’t want to make the effort, not when the only thing you can do is squirm and ask him to let you go so meekly whenever he pulls you into his lap. Lucifer doesn’t want to trust you at all, this time, but you don’t have to trust someone to collar them, to wrap something suffocating around their neck and pull the leash so tight, they won’t be able to ask who he is and cry about how homesick they are until they feel like being more obedient. It’s messy. The whole fucking timeline is messy, but beggars can’t be choosers. If there’s one thing all the brothers can agree on, it’s that they stopped needing you to love them the moment you made it clear you never did. 

They’ve all come to terms with the fact that having you terrified and trembling is better than not having you at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompt #yandere theory #yandere obey me #yandere demon brothers

[phis-corner]

Weird idea i debated writing because it appeared in a dream: Maribat camping trip. But the batfam and miraculous crew do not know eachother before the camping trip. They are just both there at the same time.

ooooh the sHENANIGANS that could happen! I’d totally write this, but I honestly don’t think I could manage all those characters, and still give everyone the amount of ‘screen’ time that they deserve. So have some bullet points instead!

Obviously, Dick’s the one who drags the bats out on the camping trip. Cass and Steph are like ‘whatever’, Duke’s 100% cool with it, and the others need a lot little more convincing.

The Miraculous crew has just defeated Hawkmoth (because fUCK GABE) and they’re like well heck, we deserve to take a break. Let’s go camping!

Disclaimer: I actually have no idea how camping works.

Anyway, both groups decide that they’re going to go explore the woods surrounding their campsites and stumble upon each other in the deep woods, scaring the others a little (but only a little, they’ve seen worse.)

The Batkids bond with the miraculous crew over anything and everything, with lots of shenanigans

All the Miraculous kids take it as a personal insult that the Batkids are so in shape (did Dick just do a double backflip for fun?) so they continuously try to outperform them with tricks

The Batkids are also extremely competitive and they obviously can’t lose to these admittedly talented civilian kids now, can they? So they up the stakes of the competition with a few well placed bets

And now you have two groups of hero/vigilante types pulling insane stunts in the middle of the woods over s’mores and other snacks.

OR

I’ve watched too much Criminal Minds, but a MURDER MYSTERY!

(we’re not killing off any of the bats or miraculous crew tho.)

Unnamed camper disappears, body is found in woods, and both the Bats and the Miraculous crew feel an obligation to investigate.

Each has no idea why they keep on bumping into the other while investigating this murder. Like,,, why are Parisian heroes here? Why are these Americans here? We’re here because we’re in the area, but why are they here?

Simultaneously, the groups meet as civilians, also while trying to figure out the murder

(Maybe it’s a serial killer, and they’re picking off campers one by one.)

I dunno, I think a ML x DC camping/murder mystery team up would be awesome.

#maribat #asked and answered #ask game

[themculibrary]

Irondad Oneshots Masterlist

A Bite-Sized Experience (ao3) - Buckets_Of_Stars Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: When Tony mentioned to Peter one time that he knows how to make pasta-- not the shitty "get in a box at the store and heat up for 10 minuets" pasta-- but the real deal, Peter would not shut up about it. Honestly, it had started to drive Tony insane.

Tony's solution: Teach Peter how to make homemade spaghetti. __

(Or: IronDad and SpiderSon make some food and shenanigans result)

Away from the Sun (ao3) - xxx_cat_xxx Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: Tony makes it to his knees and bends over Peter, feeling his heart thud against his ribcage at an ever-rising speed. There’s blood flowing from a gash on the kid’s temple, and he looks still, awfully still.

-or-

Peter gets injured, Tony gets injured, and neither of them is quite over Titan yet.

Don’t Judge a Knife by Its Color (ao3) - blondsak, Grace_d, whumphoarder Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: “Whoa, hold up, hang on,” he says, taking a step closer to get a better look. The blade is probably four inches long and neon purple, while the handle is white with a friendly-looking colorful silicon grip. “Is that a toy knife? Is this a Fisher Price mugging?”

“Fuck you, Spidey,” the mugger replies, fumbling for the knife before scrambling back to his feet and brandishing the weapon at Peter.

Or, Peter is stabbed by a misleading knife, Tony plays a high stakes game of Operation, and May retains the one brain cell.

funhouse horror (ao3) - killerqueenwrites Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: “You appear to be separated from the team.”

“Yep, most definitely.”

“You seem to be in a sealed room, Peter.” Karen draws the lines of the walls for him; the room can’t be any more than four feet by four, but the walls stretch far above his head to the ceiling.

“Sealed? I must’ve got in here somehow.”

“Yes,” Karen agrees, sounding uncharacteristically frustrated.

A mission with the Avengers doesn't quite go to plan.

He's known as jr. (ao3) - InterPlanetary_Redacted Rating: General

Summary: He turned back when the door opened, the researchers still talking, to see Tony walking in and directly towards him.

“Hey da- Mr Star- Tony. Hi Tony,” Peter tried again, brain coming to a fault as he grinned.

*** Peter's class goes on a field trip to Stark Industries, where Peter is an actual intern now, and this is, apparently, how that session goes

He's Our Goober (ao3) - battybatzgirl Rating: General

Summary: “You got shot,” the girl snaps. “You promised you wouldn’t get shot.”

Their banter is so achingly familiar, but Tony can’t quite pin down why. It reminds him of that time he was testing out new flight suits and fell off a third-floor balcony. He and Pepper had only been dating for a few months, and the two were unfamiliar with the push and pull of a relationship when one of you was a superhero.

The realization hits him like a truck.

Holy shit, Tony thinks. They’re dating.

(Or: the one where Tony meets MJ in the back of an ambulance because their boy gets a minor gunshot wound.)

It's all fun and games (ao3) - frostysunflowers Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: Peter loves playing pranks on Tony.

Tony isn't so keen.

I Will Soften Every Edge (ao3) - losingmymindtonight

Summary:

“You’re telling me,” he swallowed, “that my body thinks I’m Peter’s dad?” “And it has prepared itself for parenthood in response, yes.” -- After a simple brain scan, F.R.I.D.A.Y. reveals something that Tony already knew, but may not have been ready to accept. Luckily, Peter's always there to help him re-find his footing.

Let This Moment Be the First Chapter (ao3) - ephemeralstark Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: Peter Parker: intern, Spider-Man, has never met Tony Stark in his life.

Tony Stark: has to do a speech at Midtown, knocks a bully down a peg or two, almost gets shot but is saved by...his intern?

Lost and Confused (ao3) - Capstar98 Rating: General

Summary: Peter doesn't know where his is, but he knows he's safe when Tony's around. (aka Peter has a concussion)

My Dad is My Hero (ao3) - velarisstars Rating: General

Summary: It's dress up as your hero day at school. So who does Peter choose to dress up as? His dad, of course!

Ft. Toddler Peter and cute pepperony moments

Open for Business (ao3) - opal_earrings Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: Jake likes his night shift at the gas station in the middle of nowhere because nothing ever happens. The only reason he took the job is because nothing ever happens.

But then something actually does. A teenager comes in covered in blood and asking to use his phone, and somehow that’s not the strangest thing that's going to happen during his shift tonight.

Or: Peter using a stranger's phone to call Tony for help, from the (very confused) stranger's perspective

press zero to speak to a long lost relative (ao3) - ciaconnaa Rating: General

Summary: “Hello, thank you for calling Stark Industries, this is Melissa speaking. How may I help you?”

Panic surges through Morgan’s blood and she grips the phone tighter, because she’s just now realizing she has no idea what she’s going to say. Like, seriously. What do you say? Hi, my name is Morgan Stark, my whole family thinks I'm dead but I'm actually not, I've just been hanging with Spider-Man while they experimented and tortured us and I'd like to go home please?

No. That's crazy. Gotta start somewhere else.

“Hi. Okay, I’ve got a bit of a...weird problem.”

or;

Morgan and Peter's rescue depends on convincing the newbie working the phones over at the Stark Industries customer service line that they're the real deal.

Thud (ao3) - Webtrinsic Rating: General

Summary: Peter had been slammed into the wall hard, and Tony was sure his heart stopped.

Who's The Kid? (ao3) - samandbucky Rating: Not Rated

Summary: The Avengers arrive back at the tower after everything that's happened with the Sokovia Accords. They expect everything to be the same, but it's not. Now there's a kid living at the tower and the Avengers think he's more than just Tony's "personal assistant". Natasha and Wanda are determined to find out the truth.

#themculibrary #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #irondad masterlist #masterlists

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 8

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention, smut, swearing, public/semi-public sexual shenanigans (they’re very horny, ok???), Erin is hot af

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: The undercover operation has begun 👀 Will Erin and Marcus be able to keep their act together? We’ll have to see.... Enjoy!

It was humid. Way too humid. Though, Erin supposed that maybe that’s what rich people liked; what better way to flaunt their wealth than being able to afford air-conditioning an entire mansion?

She held Marcus’s hand tightly as they weaved through the crowd of wedding attendees and partygoers at the hotel, reaching the elevator only after breaking a sweat.

Once they entered their room, the first order of business was to check it for bugs. And by bugs, they were looking for cameras and microphones. The last thing they wanted was for anyone to catch wind of the operation. Even if they needed an emergency extraction, it would take hours before any personnel arrived.

The suite was more like a penthouse than a hotel room. The floors had marble pathways and soft carpet surrounding the bed. A short hallway led to a spacious, doorless,  shower with a fireplace built in for warmth. The same hallway led to a more conventional bathroom with a bathtub, toilet, and sink. And, of course, the showstopper.

Marcus paused as they walked by. “That’s a nice hot tub.”

It took nearly an hour, but Erin and Marcus were able to sweep the entire suite and confirm that there weren’t any recording devices around.

“It seems like we should be safe in here, at least for now,” Erin said, resting her hands on her hips. “We arrived a bit earlier than I expected, so we should probably look around at the beach party before night falls. It’ll look more natural if we’re there all afternoon and evening. Do you remember your profile?”

---

The sun was even more unbearable with less clothes on. Erin adjusted the straps of her bikini bottoms, chatting with other attendees. The white sand and crystal blue water would’ve made the island a fantastic vacation spot, but unfortunately she didn’t have time to enjoy it. After all, she was there for work.

The bikini was smaller than any she’d ever worn, a special purchase to play the part. The black triangles of fabric strained over her breasts and the bottoms left little to the imagination. She blushed as she realized her lower lips could barely fit in the bottoms, swollen with arousal. In this case, it was arousal for herself. She rarely had the time or energy for beach trips, much less skimpy bathing suits. So even if this was an undercover operation, she couldn’t help but relish in her playthings.

“Babe, could you help me get my back?” she asked, applying some sunscreen onto her chest. She rolled her eyes as her nipples hardened, poking through the thin fabric. Her past lovers were obsessed with her tits, so any touch would make them hard. Thankfully no one seemed to care; in fact, the women she chatted with simply cooed as Marcus–her “boyfriend”–stood up to help.

She clenched around nothing as she imagined how Marcus would look if he was sucking on her tits. The soft flesh would bury his face as he mouthed at her, leaving marks that staked out his claim. But that was just another fantasy that wouldn’t come true.

Marcus gulped as he took her in, hoping she couldn’t see his hardening cock.

The bikini fit her perfectly, hugging her in all the right spots and emphasizing the plush flesh of her ass and hips. The thong bottoms left virtually nothing to the imagination, which only made his predicament worse. As much as he loved her and the way she looked, it was definitely not the right place or time to be thinking about her ass.

Erin tried not to stare as she noticed his shorts tent, his thick length outlined. He looked like he would fill her perfectly, better than any toy she ever buried inside herself. She wanted to get on her knees and give him a taste of his own medicine, bringing him to the edge. Would he even fit in her hand?

The thought made her pulse, her bottoms growing wetter.

She let out a gasp as he smacked her ass playfully, wishing he would spread her legs and taste her. Her eyes grew large as he kneeled down in front of her and nudged her legs apart.

“What? I’m helping out, like you asked.” He looked up at her with a smoldering gaze as he kissed her thighs. It took a moment for her to remember that this was part of the act; she and Marcus were meant to be fiery and passionate, fitting in with the rest of the crowd. They were certainly nowhere near the wildest at the beach party; in the distance she was sure there was a fully naked woman wracked with orgasms. Surely she wouldn’t be in that position anytime soon; not that she’d thought much about it.

Marcus’s large hands gently applied the sunscreen to her legs as he kissed around her inner thighs, his breath just grazing her core. There was no doubt that he could see her swollen pussy and the way her juices had smeared on her skin.

Erin jumped slightly as he pressed a kiss just at the edge of the fabric. Her fingers tangled in his hair and encouraged him to kiss closer. She needed anything she could get, and two could play the game. “C’mon baby, don’t be shy.”

A low moan left her lips as he obeyed, kissing her mound through the fabric. He sucked lightly, catching her clit.

Erin’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Fuck….”

Then he pulled away, leaving her throbbing. Tease.

“Do you like this, honey?” he asked lowly, eyes dark with desire. “Do you like knowing people can see you?”

“Yes,” Erin moaned, arching her back as one of the women cupped her tits, the soft flesh overflowing. She gasped as Marcus pressed his lips to her mound again. The touches felt like heaven; it had been too long since anyone had given her this much attention. “I want people to know what you do to me.”

He hummed softly, reveling in Erin’s neediness. “Look at you… So beautiful. You’re so wet, baby, I hope you’re having fun. But you need to behave, or you don’t get to cum.”

She pouted as he stood back up, the pout melting into a smile as he kissed her deeply. A shiver ran down her spine as his hand came up to play with the ties of her bikini top. Barely above a whisper, she said, “Just a few more hours before we can get started.”

The few hours dragged on much longer than she and Marcus thought; it must’ve been from the heat. As they mingled with the crowds and made out like horny rabbits, the sun barely inched towards the horizon.

Thankfully, time had not stopped, and the house was eventually opened for the dinner party.

She and Marcus changed into more appropriate outfits for the house party, hers made from a thin black fabric that just barely contained her tits. The skirt of the dress had two slits on each side, allowing her legs to peek through the curtains when she walked.

It was easy enough to scope out the layout of the house, walking around with Marcus’s hand on her waist and the occasional kiss. Everything was going to plan; all they had to do was to get into the office, pull the data, and get out. Easy, right?

They slowed as they approached the entrance to the office, Erin running her hands down his chest. She toyed with the buttons of his shirt. Fluttering her eyelashes at him, she asked, “Baby, have I been good enough for you today?”

“You have,” Marcus replied, eyes raking down her form. Backing her into the office, he said, “I think you’ve earned this.”

Once he closed the door, they launched into action. It only took a quick scan of the room to know that there weren’t any cameras installed; it seemed like that was a theme in the house. Perhaps it was a precaution on the host’s part for the art dealings.

It didn’t take long for Erin to find the records on the computer, and within a couple minutes the data was downloading onto the flashdrive. It needed just a few more seconds….

Someone knocked on the office door. “Hey, is anyone in there?”

“Shit!” Erin hissed, pulling out the flashdrive and shutting off the computer. As the door handle started turning, she sat on the desk and pulled Marcus onto her, kissing him hard.

Despite his initial surprise, he fell into the rhythm quickly. He pressed her against him and hitched her leg up on his hip. Her soft moans and grinding of her hips sent blood rushing down to his cock, making her gasp. His tongue slipped into her mouth as the door opened.

“Oh, again? Excuse me, sir! Ma’am-”

At the sound of the intruder, Marcus growled and held her to his chest protectively, accidentally pulling the fabric of her dress to the side. Neither of them noticed until Erin arched against him, her breasts freed from their confines. He shuddered as the soft flesh pressed against him; he wanted nothing more than to stoop down and take her into his mouth.

Erin couldn’t help but melt into his touch, rolling her hips against his for more friction. The girth of his cock was undeniable, and her clit was swollen to the point that it rubbed deliciously along his length. Her cheeks burned from knowing her tits were out, but a small part of her couldn’t care less. After all, it was all part of the act, right?

“Hey!”

“Oh!” Erin and Marcus leapt apart, frantically tidying themselves up. She smiled sheepishly at the man standing at the entrance of the office; he must’ve been a friend of the collector.

“Sorry, we got a little carried away,” she apologized, shyly walking out the office with Marcus in tow.

It would’ve been too suspicious to leave right away, so they stayed a couple hours longer. There was music, food, and they had each other’s company. It would have been perfect. However, their little office session had left them more than flustered.

She’d never quite seen Marcus act so rough before–not that he was particularly rough. Perhaps…dominant was a more accurate word. Sure, he was a Heroic, but something about his confidence and strength in that moment made her legs weak.

Despite all this time, she was sure he could make her legs weak in other ways. Her pussy ached as she thought of the way he felt against her, how his hard cock had pressed deliciously against her swollen cunt.

She needed a shower.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, the two of them snuggled in the back seats like two lovebirds. She supposed they technically were in love, but she knew it wasn’t the same. Part of it was an act to keep the disguise up. The things they did at the party were all for show.

Marcus had showered first after they returned to their room. Meanwhile, Erin wanted to check if they got all the information they needed; the download had been cut short. Upon examination, she discovered they were only able to get about three quarters of the data, which means they’d have to go back and get the last quarter.

It was only after a quick debrief that she finally went to wash up for the night. She gave Marcus a kiss as he passed by, telling him to get some rest. The past few hours had been eventful, and it would only get busier as the wedding approached.

Later, a low moan echoed from the shower, making Marcus sit up. He could hear the rush of water as Erin washed off the day’s sunscreen and makeup. So what was that sound?

He stood from his seat and walked a few paces closer to the shower, straining to discern where the sound came from. It grew fainter as it continued, so breathy he could barely hear it.

What if she was hurt?

The thought of her being hurt spurred him to step in front of the shower, not even realizing what he’d done until the image registered in his mind.

Erin was leaned up against the marble wall of the shower, skin shining and eyes closed. Moans left her lips as her fingers circled her clit. A louder cry escaped as she slipped in a couple fingers, pumping them in and out of her needy cunt.

Marcus gulped and hid behind the wall–she was definitely not hurt. Quite the opposite, in fact. His cock was already rock hard, straining against his pants. A groan escaped him as he gripped his shaft through the fabric.

It was wrong, he knew that. They hadn’t reached that stage of their relationship yet, and he hated that he’d reacted so quickly. Their first time needed to be perfect, not some quick fuck during an op. But the image of her fucking her pussy was engrained into his mind.

Her pussy was swollen and dripping with cream as she circled her pearl, the hair on her mound trimmed neatly. The curve of her hips tapered into her waist, guiding his eyes up to her breasts. Fuck, her tits were gorgeous. Marcus gasped as his cock twitched, a damp circle growing in the fabric of his pants.

Her tits were just as beautiful as he remembered, full and round. Even back then, it had taken all his willpower to not suck her tits; now, it was even more difficult. Thinking back to the beach weekend they shared years ago, he wondered how he resisted.

“Oh fuck,” Erin moaned. Her other hand groped and squeezed her tits. She imagined the hands weren’t hers, but Marcus’s. Those big, warm hands had felt amazing against her skin, and she was lucky that her dress was long. After their little...session, she’d been dripping down her thighs. More than once, she considered dismissing herself to the bathroom for relief. But if the tight coil in her belly was any indication, it was good that she didn’t. Weeks of edging meant she was going to come hard, harder than she ever had before. The only question was: when?

A voice in the back of his mind told him to join her in the shower and help her reach her peak, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t do that to her. It wasn’t the right time.

The mattress molded to his body as he settled in on his side of the bed. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he realized he was going to be sharing a bed with Erin. With the love of his life.

His cock lay thick and heavy under his pajama pants, showing no signs of becoming less obvious. The thought of Erin catching him made his cock twitch, the ache of arousal making every movement unbearable. He needed to take care of himself fast, not that it would be difficult with what he’d just seen.

The slow drip of her cream was burned into his mind. Although her fingers had spread it all over her pussy and inner thighs, it continued to seep out. He wondered what she would look like if it was his cum, his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck.” He just pulled out his cock when the shower shut off, the rustle of a towel reaching his ears. Absentmindedly, his hand moved up and down his shaft, squeezing the hot flesh to mimic the tight walls of her cunt. Precum dripped from the tip, pooling on his stomach. Marcus scooped it up with a finger and popped the sweet substance into his mouth. His eyes widened as footsteps approached the main room.

Quickly, he covered himself with the blanket and turned to his side, only realizing after she entered the room that he forgot to tuck himself back into his pants. The thin blanket did nothing to hide it, the hard length visible to anyone who looked at him.

The burn of Erin’s gaze as it traced the swell of the blanket made his balls tighten in anticipation, though he knew he wouldn’t be getting anywhere that night.

Smirking slightly, Erin wordlessly walked to her luggage and dropped the towel to the floor. Her tanned skin glowed in the light. Marcus’s mouth went dry as she bent over to pick out some nightclothes, the lips of her pussy peeking out between her thighs. Fuck, her ass was beautiful, too–

Almost as if he weren’t there, she turned around with a small lacy camisole, the fabric mostly translucent. She slipped it over her head, the lace stretching over her breasts. Then, she slipped on a pair of sleep shorts, forgoing any panties. He nearly choked on air as she pulled them up higher, her lower lips emphasized by the tight fabric.

He watched as she dried her hair, admiring her figure. How was he going to fall asleep when she looked like that? Just the sight of her was almost enough to make him cum, his cock twitching under the blanket.

Then,  she snuggled up against him after climbing under the covers, her back to his chest. She grabbed his arm and guided it around her waist. The position made sure they were pressed against each other; she had to have felt his erection against her ass, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Marcus sighed and nuzzled her neck. “Goodnight, honey.”

She hummed tiredly. “Goodnight, my love.”

---

Fuck, she was so tight.

Erin moaned as Marcus’s hands trailed down her wet body, holding her against his chest as he fucked into her. Her walls clenched and sucked his cock as deep as possible, not that she could tighten much more. The girth of his cock was nearly too much for her to take.

He groaned as his cock grew slick with her juices. “You’re so fucking tight, honey…. Feels like you’re milking my cock.”

She whined, “I want to milk your cock, Marcus. I want every drop inside of me. Please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

The sound of their skin slapping together echoed in the shower, along with their guttural groans.

Looking down, he almost came right then and there. Her ass bounced deliciously for every thrust, the flesh supple and round.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” she cried out. She grabbed his wrist and brought it down to her clit, begging him to rub it. “Please make me cum, I need it so bad. Please, I want to milk your cock.”

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he grit out, circling her clit. His thrusts were unrelenting even as his own orgasm approached at light speed. “Cum for me, honey. Fuck, cum for–”

He woke with a sharp gasp, burying his face in her neck as he came. Shudders wracked his body as his cock shot rope after rope into his pants. It was the most he’d come in a long time, his hot seed completely coating his length. His cock was nestled between her ass cheeks. He hoped she wouldn’t wake up.

But when he tried to move his arm from her waist, she held him in place.

Her hips ground against his hand as she seemingly tried to relieve herself, the slick juices from her pussy pooling in his palm. Every circle of her hips dipped his fingers into her cunt, which fluttered at his touch.

Erin moaned softly as she grew closer to ecstasy, the combination of his hand and his rock hard cock almost too much. A familiar pressure deep inside of her swelled, the same one that had teased her in the shower. The same one that had soaked her mirror, drenched her toy in juices. The same one that weakened her legs, turned her into jelly.

Kissing her shoulder softly, Marcus showed his hand to a stop right as she was about to come. She couldn’t come—not yet. The mere touch of his fingers wouldn’t satisfy her, and he wanted to take care of her properly. He wanted to give her hours of love and ecstasy.

That morning, Erin woke to an ache between her legs, her pussy still swollen from arousal. She let out a soft groan in disappointment as she felt the dampness in her shorts; had she come? Why else would her cunt be fluttering around nothing?

She moaned as she slipped a single finger into her folds. Just the small insertion was enough to make her clench tightly. Rivulets of her arousal ran down her thighs as she pulled out the silver vibrating plug from her luggage.

Sighing as it filled her, she turned it on. The familiar vibrations made her moan out.

It was going to be a long day.

< previous chapter | next chapter >

TAGLISTS: (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

PERMANENT:

@cinewhore​ @randomness501​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @miraclemoreno​ @halfwaythereroyal​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @talesfromtheguild​ @tortles​ @ladamari68​ @theokatcov @snivellusim @starryluce​ @inked-poet​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @shedobewritingalittle​ @chews-erotically​ @thefandomimagines​ @emesispo​ @bitchin-beskar​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @dishonouringmycow​ @sarahjkl82-blog​

HONEYDEW:

@leemorrigan @houseofthirst​ @meshlamando​ @engineeredfiction​ @inkyzinky​ @thedazeinmylife @theoutsidelandhere​ @parkjammys​ @giselatropicana​ @a-skov​

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno x OC #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #honeydew #my writing

[failedintsave]

Ok fine, fine ok. It's Nategaar hours around here today, and I need it to stay out of my current project so here's me purging it from my system til it resurfaces with vengeance in probably like a day.

You Spin Me Round

The rattling of the window panes was audible even over the bass of Murderface's boom box, rain blowing almost horizontally in tropical storm gales. But seasoned Floridians weren't afraid of a little stormy weather, as proven by the groups of drenched partygoers who continued to filter through the door of their crowded apartment.

Nathan weaved his way through the sea of bodies, returning from the keg with four Solo cups balanced overhead, trying his best not to spill everything down his arms. He squeezed into the corner where most of his band stood gathered around a wooden cable spool he'd taken from his dad's hardware shop, the tabletop littered with a scattered deck of cards, an overflowing ashtray at it's center.

"Who the fuck are some of these people?" He grumbled as he approached, passing out beers to waiting hands.

"Shit, man, idunnoe. I invited some chicks from deh show, and I know Magnus told some folks to come back, but deh rest?" Pickles shrugged. "Stuffs closin' fer deh weather I think, people lookin' fer something ta do."

He grunted, handing a cup over to Murderface next to him before reaching across the table to pass the last beer to Skwisgaar wedged between two fawning groupies.

"Shoulda put someone at the door to take money for cups, they're draining the keg." He took a slug of foamy beer, glaring down into the contents. "And there's no room to play games or do anything."

"Juscht play drink-the-beer, who needsch a game for that?"

"Auuuggh that's boring. And besides, I'm really good at that game and we'll run out of beer faster."

"He ams gots a good points."

Pickles rubbed his chin in consideration before snapping his fingers, a proverbial lightbulb going off over his head. "I gaht it."

He scurried off, slipping easily through the throng of bodies towards his room. They watched him disappear, barely a glimpse of fiery red hair visible over the shoulders of their so-called guests. After a few minutes he reappeared with a Cheshire grin and a green bottle of whiskey. He held up his first two fingers, a single die pinched between them.

"Alright, I've gaht a game fer us. First step, we empty dis bottle." He cracked the top and handed it to Nathan. "As you were deh inspiration fer dese shenanigans, you may do de honors."

"Perfect." Nathan tipped the bottle back and took a long pull, passing it off to Murderface to share around the circle as Pickles continued.

"Next t'ings, we need a couple extra players, ot'erwise dis will get real predictable quick." He stood on tiptoes, waving over a few familiar faces from their show. He flagged Magnus down, but the guitarist didn't move.

"What do you want?" He shouted across the room.

"Come play a game!"

"What game?"

"Russian roulette, whaddya think? A party game!"

"What game?" Magnus repeated, moving slightly closer.

"Spin deh bottle!"

That stopped Magnus in his tracks. "Nope. Not this again. Fool me once, shame on you. Hard pass."

Murderface sputtered as he handed off the bottle down the line. "Hold on, what wasch that?!"

Ignoring him, Pickles threw his arms up at the goateed guitarist. "Why not?!" Magnus shook his head and turned back, melting into the crowd. "Ah yeh fuckin' killjoy, fine den!"

Nathan frowned, tracking the bottle's progress around the circle. "Uh, Pickles. Why exactly did you think we'd wanna play that? Together? Do we look like middle schoolers?"

"It's fun! Dere's stakes!" He slapped the die onto the table, smirking around at his audience. "Me an' Tony an' de guys made up dis version back in deh day."

Skwisgaar wiped his mouth on the back of a slender wrist, handing the liquor down to the woman next to him. "Sos you always play deh kissingk games wif your bands?" To Nathan's ear he didn't sound put off, merely curious.

Murderface, meanwhile, was less impressed. "That'sch totally gay! We can't play thisch together, what'sch wrong with you?!"

"Eh, it's just a goof we made up, touring ain't all blowjobs and snortin' coke off tits, sometimes ya just wanna have fun." Pickles reached out and poked Murderface in the belly. "Wouldja lemme finish explainin' deh rules before ya quit?"

The bottle made it's way back to the drummer and he tilted his head back for several long chugs, holding the glass up to the light and sloshing the liquid around. He nodded and handed it off to Nathan again with a wink. Frowning, Nathan took another long draw. He wasn't going to be the first of them to back down from this idea, even if it was stupid.

"Okey, so here's why dis game is different. Dere's two parts." He indicated the die and the bottle with a flourishing gesture. "First you roll de dice. On a one, two er three, it's normal rules. Little smackaroonie. No big deal. Four an' five, ya elevate it a little bit. Makeout, pull some hair, whatever."

"Oooookaaay I think maybe Murderface was right about this." Nathan looked around at his bandmates. True there were almost twice as many girls at the table than them, but he wasn't sure he cared for the odds.

"Schee?!"

"Oh waaaaah, you buncha babies! Yer the one who said you were bored! Let's see whet you can come up with!"

"I'll plays."

Nathan's head jerked to face Skwisgaar across the table. The blonde wore an amused smirk as he focused on Pickles, a faint flush on his cheeks from the alcohol. He cocked his head to the side, accepting the drummer's challenge, golden waves cascading over his shoulder as he moved. Of course that smug bastard would play, this game sounded like a routine Thursday for him.

With a heavy sigh, Nathan's eyes shifted back to the drummer. "Alright. So what's six?"

Pickles grinned impishly. "Oh we call six 'Make It Look Good.' Thirty seconds on deh clock or til ev'rybody else makes ya stahp."

"What the actual fuck, Pickles."

"Ah-ah! Lemme finish! You have options!" He ticked off on his fingers. "One through three you can skip fer a shot. Four an' five you chug a beer. And six…"

The group around the table leaned as one, craning their necks expectantly in the drummer's direction. His eyes flashed as he snickered.

"If you want outta six, yeh gotta run a naked lap around the apartment building."

Thunder boomed outside as if to punctuate the final rule.

"Schon of a bitsch. We need more schotsch if we're doing thisch. I'm gonna get fucked up."

Pickles produced a second bottle and slammed it down on the table in front of him.

"Where were you keeping that?"

"Don't ask questions, are we playin' or what?"

The initial bottle finished it's second loop, landing in Nathan's palm again. With a grunt, he slugged the last of the booze and slammed the bottle onto it's side in the center of the table.

"God I wish there was room to play pong right now…" he picked up the dice and rolled.

The game didn't go nearly as badly as he'd expected, and after several rounds of making out with hot girls and taking shots to avoid kissing his bandmates Nathan was really starting to enjoy himself. Defying statistics, the only six rolled so far had been between two of the girls, and they'd all cheered like hooligans.

And then the fickle dice gods reconsidered their influence.

"Alrights, my toirns." Skwisgaar, who hadn't yet opted out of any of his rolls but was starting to get fairly tipsy regardless, snatched up the dice and shook it in Nathan's face, squinting one eye and grinning. He dropped it, four pips staring back up at him. Laughing, he gave the bottle a rapid spin.

It whirled and Nathan found himself holding his breath, eyes glued to the bottle, a little confused about what he was hoping would happen. Slowly, slowly the neck of the bottle came to rest pointing at Pickles.

"Uh-ohhhh, ya think the keg is tapped? Ya might be outta luck pal." The drummer laughed, pumping pierced brows at the blonde.

"Pfffft, shuts up." Skwisgaar leaned past one of the giggling girls, seizing a handful of Pickles' shirt and hauling him forward into an open-mouthed kiss. Nathan stared as they pulled apart, his skin heating and head swimming with whiskey.

"Well okey den," Pickles stroked his chin, nodding sagely. "Now I see whet all deh fuss is about, nyeheheh."

Swaying upright again, Skwisgaar clumsily flung his hair back over his shoulder. "Whats can I says, I ams a master ats everyt'ings I dedicates my times to."

"Scho like, two thingsch."

"Ams better den no t'ings."

"Hey!"

Nathan zoned out, staring at the table for the next few turns, snapped back to attention by Murderface's repeated 'No, no, no no!' as Pickles rolled a three and landed on him.

"A'right, yer turn Nate." The drummer smirked, sliding the bottle and the die across the table.

"Ugh, are we still playing this? When is it over?"

"Aw aments Nat'ans havingk any funs?"

He raised his eyes to the willowy guitarist across from him. Skwisgaar's thin arms were crossed over his chest, hip popped jauntily to the side. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his high forehead from the dense mugginess of the apartment, a teasing smile playing over his lips, bruised pink from being crushed against Pickles'. With an effort, Nathan tore his gaze away and redirected it towards the table.

"Fine. Whatever." He started the bottle spinning with more force than necessary, rolling the dice as it rotated.

Six.

Shit.

The rest of the table was already hooting in glee as the bottle spun down, slowing, taking an agonizingly long time to stop. Finally it came to rest at twelve o'clock.

Pointing at Skwisgaar.

The table erupted.

"OH SCHIT! Can't drink your way outta thisch one!"

"Nyeeeeheheheheh! Now's tha real show!"

"Oh dear sweet lord." Nathan covered his face with his hands, cheeks burning already.

"Hey you have an advantage, everything he does looks good." 

"Why t'anks you, what was you names again? Monicas?"

"Yeh could always take the second option agin?" Pickles offered, biting back a laugh as he patted Nathan's shoulder.

His heartbeat throbbed in his ears, and something like pre-show jitters fluttered in his stomach, arms and legs tingling. 

"Huehuehuehhue, ams lookingk pretty nastys out dere." Skwisgaar's drunken chuckle was underlined by another peal of thunder, window panes jumping in their casings. "Yous gonna gets blowed away."

Fuck that.

He dropped his hands away from his face, narrowing his eyes at the smirking blonde. "Fine. You dildoes want a show?"

His audience yelped as he reached down, grabbing the edge of the wooden spool and throwing it aside, playing cards and ashtray scattering to the floor, bottle toppling to the ground and shattering. Nathan lunged forward, relishing the shocked widening of blue eyes before impact.

Fighting against muscle memory of past football tackles, he grappled Skwisgaar against his broad chest, wrapping his arms beneath the other man's flailing limbs, his palms cradling bony shoulder blades. He walked the blonde backwards into the corner, pressing him into the wall.

"Timer! Start deh count!"

"No don't, I've scheen enough already, augh!"

As Skwisgaar recovered from the initial shock of being sacked, the natural showman in him awoke. Fire coursed over Nathan's scalp as calloused fingers threaded into his hair, holding his head steady as Skwisgaar turned to deepen the kiss. Nathan's clenched jaw unlocked and his lips parted before he could overthink it.

"...seven, eight, nine..!"

The sound of their onlookers counting faded into the background, drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. He pushed a knee forward between Skwisgaar's thighs, catching a long leg as it wrapped behind his and hiking it up to his hip, leaving the blonde standing one legged like an albino flamingo.

"...fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen..!"

Skwisgaar bit down on Nathan's bottom lip and something in him broke, a cage door swinging open on its hinges. A growl rumbled in his chest as he reached down and grabbed the guitarist's other leg, hauling it up to his waist, lifting the other man from the floor as easily as he would carry groceries up from his car.

"... twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…!"

Fingers clawed into the material of his shirt, scratching against his back. The sudden urge to carry Skwisgaar away from the party, to drag him back to his cave like a neanderthal, blindsided Nathan and his muscles locked. Sensing the end of their performance, Skwisgaar sighed into his mouth, the pressure of his lips softening as he started to pull back.

"Thirty! Dat's time!" Pickles howled a laugh. "Holy shit guys, dat's game. Ain't nobody gonna top dat act, even if you hadn't broke deh bottle!"

Nathan opened his eyes as they broke off, the heated blue gaze in front of him driving any and all coherent thoughts from his brain. Gingerly, he released one of Skwisgaar's legs, then the other, white boots touching down on the floor, toe-heel, toe-heel. Standing once again under his own power, a slow, crooked smile stretched across Skwisgaar's face, a breathy chuckle shaking his shoulders once. It took every ounce of willpower Nathan possessed to tear his eyes away from the curve of those full lips, and he turned to face the other two members of his band.

Murderface had his eyes squeezed closed, cracking one to peek. "Isch it over? Are they done?"

Frowning, Nathan grunted through his nose like a bull, stomping forward to snatch the second bottle of liquor from the bassist's hands. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he retreated wordlessly to his bedroom, passing Magnus on the way out.

The older guitarist shook his head, curly mane swishing. "I coulda told ya… every time Pickles tries to pl--"

"Just. Don't." Nathan pushed through the hall, evicting the gaggle of strangers standing around in his room and slamming the door behind him.

Hours later, after the storm had slowed to only a downpour and the party had fizzled out, Nathan lay awake on his back, staring at the ceiling. From the second his door had closed behind him, his brain had flipped from a crawl to light speed, hurtling through thousands of moments from the last couple of years, all of them centered on interactions with his lead guitarist. Slender fingers brushing against his own as he passed the tv remote, blonde hair tickling against his arm as they drove with the windows down, the nervous fluttery feeling in his belly at the sound of a dorky, throaty chuckle.

Nathan ground the heels of his palms against his eye sockets hard enough to see stars. How long? When did these thoughts start popping up? And when had he started stomping them down, locking them away without acknowledgement? Sure, Skwisgaar was hot, he wasn't blind, he could admit that much. But this wasn't that, this was...he didn't know what this was.

But he needed to find out.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he crept out to the door directly across the hall. He started to knock, then paused, not wanting to wake anyone else in the apartment. Nathan turned the knob and cracked the door enough to wedge his face into the gap.

"Hey. Psst. Skwisgaar, you in here?" Another thought struck him, an irrational jealous pang vibrating through him. "Uh, you alone?"

The red glow of a digital clock was the only source of light in the guitarist's bedroom, a faint silhouette shifted on the bed, backlit in flashes by the blinking 12:00.

"Nat'ans?" came a groggy voice from the covers. "What ams you doing up? What times am it?" He rolled to check the useless clock and groaned in exasperation.

"Can... can I..?" He didn't wait for an invitation, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, leaning back against it and clutching the door knob like an anchor.

As his eyes adjusted he could see Skwisgaar sit up, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wake up. Nathan chewed his bottom lip, the flesh tender in an not-unpleasant way. For the second time tonight his mind blanked on him completely.

"What's de matters?"

He swallowed. "Uh."

"Nat'ans?"

"Uhhhh."

Skwisgaar waited, studying him in the dark, giving him time to organize his thoughts. It was something Nathan had always appreciated about the Swede, having (mostly) learned a second language, he understood the occasional difficulties Nathan ran into expressing himself verbally.

"I uh. Earlier."

"Ja."

"I didn't. I didn't think that."

Skwisgaar shifted on the bed, turning to fully face Nathan, still waiting patiently.

"That it would…"

"Hm?"

Nathan inhaled deeply through his nose, forcing the last words out in a rush. "Wouldbelikethatthefirstime."

He waited, certain that Skwisgaar would brush it off, dismiss it as nothing, a game. Or worse, that he'd laugh. Nathan held his breath, ready to bolt in embarrassment. This was stupid, he was stupid, what had be been thinking, it had been a game, it meant nothing.

"Ams you sayingk you wants a do-overs?"

He could hear the smile in the other man's voice, cadence low and teasing, but without cruelty. Playful.

"I-I uh." He'd used up his words for the day, instead opting for a jerky nod.

A ghostly white hand reached out in the dark, forefinger crooking, beckoning him.

"Come heres den." As Nathan shuffled forward he could see Skwisgaar's eyes shining like a cat's. "Ams a firm believer dats practice make perfects."

#skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #william murderface #dethklok #metalocalypse #nategaar #the tickets were confusing how did i board this ship? #this game is a version i played in my early 20s #you know the days when everyones dumb and extra h*rny 😳 #anyway that's the fic let them all kiss ok bye

[zscalatian]

FF7 2022 Ao3 Gift Exchange Letter

Hey, thanks for taking a look at my letter!   You don’t have to use anything here but if you want inspiration or to know things that I like, here you go.

General Likes: - Gen preferred over shippy stuff, and plot over fluff.  (Can be very low-stakes plot, though.)  Happy, or hopeful, or bittersweet endings, not tragic ones.   - Hurt/comfort;  Action/adventure;  Stories inside stories;  Missing scenes and backstories;  Post-canon fic; AUs where the setting is more than background scenery - Platonic relationships;  Family relationships;  Found families;  Established relationships;  Poly relationships;  Intense and complicated relationships;  Queer narratives and normalized queer relationships; -Characters bonding;  Characters dealing with and recovering from trauma and PTSD;  Interrogation and subversions of gender roles;   - Competent and butt-kicking female-presenting characters;  Justifiably angry characters (especially female-presenting ones);  Sunshine sweethearts;  Characters undergoing identity crises;  Characters undergoing crises of morality;  Stubborn characters who refuse to give up;  Characters being competitive;  Characters reaching out to each other - physically and metaphorically;  Looking out for each other/having each others backs; - World- and lore-building;  Detailed setting descriptions;  Fighting/action scenes;  Banter while fighting;  Shenanigans and hijinks;  Game mechanics & meta folded into the narrative;  Moral complications -  Scrapes, cuts, and bruises or a bit more extreme with injuries, blood, and bandages;  Curative Magic;  Physical scars;  Tattoos;  Being tired/exhausted;  Sharing a bed, curled up on the couch together, cuddling;  Kisses on the nose, cheek, eyelids, forehead;   - Food and cooking;  Travel and road-trips;  Exploring different cultures;  Flowers - giving/receiving flowers, language of flowers, flower crowns, gardening;  Hair - Brushing it, taking care of it, braids and trying different styles, pulling things out of it, characters messing with each other’s hair;  Fashion - clothing design, textile work, clothes shopping, characters exploring their personal style, how a character came to wear their canon outfit;  Animals - characters with their pets or around livestock and working animals;  The performing arts;  Dancing;  Characters building or creating things with their hands, their minds, and/or their powers. - Fairytale tropes and motifs, especially if they’re twisted or interrogated;  Tarot imagery and symbolism;  Dreams and nightmares;  Stained Glass;  Seasonal motifs;  Hanafuda motifs;

Art Likes: All of the above, of course.  Playing with color, layout, style.  Light and Shadow. Detailed and intricate art is nice, but so are minimalistic styles.  A sense of place.  Easter eggs and hidden images.  Symbolism.  Tattoos.  Graffiti.  Flowers.  Pretty hair.  Artist's personal interpretations of characters - if you have a mental image that differs from canon, I'm cool with it.

General DNW’s: NSFW - implied or fade to black is okay; A/B/O dynamics; Character bashing - please write characters as complex and three-dimensional; Drug use; Unhappy endings; Extremely violent horror; Relationships that are filled with negative drama; Sexual violence; Unrequested relationships; Fake relationships; Soulmate AU’s; Gratuitous violence/cruelty; Crackfic;

Not that interested in (but are okay as minor side characters or in mention) the Turks, The kids are all right characters, the Remnants, or Deepground.  You’ll observe that character death and animal death are not in my DNW’s.  If the story needs a sacrifice, the story needs a sacrifice.  Please exercise your judgement here.

Fandom Likes: Game mechanics & meta.  Materia lore and summons.  Mako & the Lifestream.  Chocobos.  How SOLDIERs and AVALANCHE are treated post-Meteor.  Rebuilding around the planet after the WEAPON’s attacks.  Buster Sword legacy.  Working/fighting as a team.  Zack and/or Aerith and/or Wedge lives.  SOLDIER tears glowing.  SOLDIERs having enhanced senses.  Nibelheim as culturally similar to mountain town and Black Forest Germany.  Tifa and/or Cloud accidentally speaking with their old Nebil accent.  Fenrir.  Different people back-riding on Fenrir.  Scenes featuring the cast’s physical scars.  People actually wearing the armor accessories (earrings, rings, bangles, ribbons, etc.)  References to the compilation.  References to the state of the natural world & eco-systems.  References to Norse mythology;

Seventh Heaven Family: Kid or Teenage Denzel and Marlene.  The adults being good parents for Marlene and Denzel.  The kids calling the adults Dad/Mom.  Taking the kids sight-seeing around the planet.  Camping, swimming, fighting monsters as a family.  Visiting the snow, beach, forest, desert.  Visiting other AVALANCHE members.  The kids helping around the bar.  Teaching them to ride chocobos.  Starting a garden.

Cloud: Being into weapon designs, blacksmithing, motorcycles, and mechanical work.  His memory issues.  Looking into Cetran lore post-meteor.  Afraid of being happy.  Competent on his own, wanting to be alone, and learning it’s okay to rely on others, letting them help him.  Doing maintenance on Barret’s arm.  Having wings. In CC Zack’s limit for Cloud is meteor rain, therefor it logically follows that before mako Cloud’s top tier limit as a cadet and trooper was in fact, meteor rain and that he knew how to use it.

Barret:  Complicated feelings about his gun arm post-Meteor, and getting his new prosthetic.  Being a rough teddy bear.  His love for the planet and natural world.  Looking into eco-friendly energy.  Owning the bar.  Knows how to sing and has a rich voice.

Tifa:  Bartending & drink mixing.  Team mom & mama bear.  Playing the piano and thinking about her mom & dad & home & Nibelheim.  Scraps and cuts from a fight aka bloody knuckles & nose, split lip, etc.  Buff Tifa.  Being slightly enhanced from her fall into Mako.

Aerith: Her spice & sass.  Friendship with Red & Tifa.  Relationship with Minerva and the lifestream, summons, WEAPONS.  Cetran heritage.  Good at baking & sucks at making drinks.  Gardening & love of growing things.

Zack:  Considers himself a good person but is actually morally gray and has to confront that at some point.  Protective.  Dog person.  Big hearted & loves fully and deeply.  Zack being a touchy-feely person, with little respect for personal space.  Explaining/working with the DMW & why Zack’s limit breaks are copies of other people’s limits.

Angeal: Maintenance on the buster sword.  Being good at reading people.  Martyr complex.  What does it mean to be a man, SOLDIER, human, monster, friend?  Cooking & gardening, a domestic type.  The conflict between his sense of justice and honor and navigating Shinra politics.  

Kunsel: Stealth helping AVALANCHE.  Reconnecting with Zack.  Checking in on Aerith after Zack’s disappearance.  Checking in on/maintaining the church garden after Aerith leaves Midgar.  Joining up with AVALANCHE.  Being a good/nosey friend/bro.

Characters/Relationships (Feel free to use any of these)

    Cloud Strife & AVALANCHE

    Cloud Strife & Reeve Tuesti

    Biggs & Jessie & Wedge & Cloud Strife

    Zack Fair & Angeal Hewley & Cloud Strife

    Zack Fair & Kunsel & Cloud Strife

    Zack Fair & Kunsel

    Kunsel & Cloud Strife

    Kunsel & Aerith Gainsborough

    Angeal Hewley & Cloud Strife

    Essai & Zack Fair & Kunsel & Luxiere & Sebastian & Cloud Strife

    Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife & Barret Wallace & Marlene Wallace

    Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife & Barret Wallace & Marlene Wallace & Denzel

    Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife &  Marlene Wallace & Denzel

    Zack Fair & Aerith Gainsborough & Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife

    Marlene Wallace & Denzel

    Denzel & Cloud Strife

    Barret Wallace & Marlene Wallace

    Denzel & Cloud Strife & Marlene Wallace

    Zack Fair/Cloud Strife

    Cloud Strife/Barret Wallace

    Cloud Strife/Angeal Hewley

    Cloud Strife/Wedge

    Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart

    Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife

    Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife/Barret Wallace

    Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife

Other side pairings Barret/Myrna Cid/Shera Vincent/Lucrecia

Prompts: (Feel free to mix and match any of these together if you like)

1# And Then!; Cloud and his partner/family are out for the day (or in, I just want them hanging together) when something happens.  Shenanigans, Adventure and/or Drama ensue.  Have this light and fluffy, dramatic or even leaning into angst territory, your choice. Here are a few ideas but feel free to come up with something else - Cloud develops the ability to summon Shadow Creepers like the ones in Advent Children;  A clone Cloud shows up;  Previously thought dead Zack shows up;  Cloud getting turned into a summon;  There is a Touch-me lose in Edge/Midgar;  Cloud developing cat-eyes;  A red chocobo capable of casting meteor rain;  Wings;   The Silver elite are planing something;   Jessie drags Cloud into participating in a show for the theater;  Reeve with the WRO has set up some sort of charity event that the rest of AVALANCHE gets roped into;  The kids have/bring home a school project; 

2# Canon Divergence Let’s ignore canon.  Cloud as SOLDIER. Version 1 - Degradation and Nibelheim never happened.  Cloud, as Zack’s student, made SOLDIER.  Shinra might not be great but isn’t evil.  Looking for wholesome fun and shenanigans that Angeal and/or Kunsel along with any other SOLDIERs you want, will get roped into/have to deal with.

Version 2 - Degradation and Nibelheim never happened.  Cloud, as Zack’s student, made SOLDIER.  Something happens that makes Cloud, Zack, and/or Angeal question whether honor/pride/dreams are compatible with a company like Shinra.  Answer: no.  What do they do about it?

Version 3 - Cloud made SOLDIER but still left Shinra.  Maybe he becomes a mercenary, defects to Wutai, or joins AVALANCHE.  His mentor Zack is sent after him.

Version 4 - Cloud made SOLDIER but still left Shinra.  Now as an ex-SOLDIER he’s been hired by AVALANCHE.  Here he meets Zack Fair, one of AVALANCHE’s ragtag members.

If you have another idea feel free to use it.  Basically what I want is Cloud is/was SOLDIER, Shinra may or may not be evil and life goes on.

3# Genre shift/AUs; I really enjoy a good AU, get into the meat and explore these worlds/settings.  Pick a genre shift or AU and have fun!

Genre shift AU: Space Opera;  Space Western;  Western;  Cyberpunk;  Solar-punk;  Bio-punk;  Cyberpunk; Steampunk;  Clock-punk;  Urban Fantasy;  Magical realism;  Urban Witch. -I love Firefly and Cowboy Bebop and grew up on cowboy westerns. I’d love to see AVALANCHE in that sort of setting. Whether they are bounty hunters, smugglers, mercenaries, cowboys, ranchers, or running a saloon, that is up to you. The Highwind and Shera would make wonderful spaceships. Feel free to swap horses and chocobos, have both, or swap chocobos and cattle if you like.

-For the -punk AUs, I love the fashion and world-building/settings you can play with in these genres. What would Eco-Terrorist AVALANCHE look like here? Would they be fighting for a different cause? What would canon look like if this was the genre setting?  If you would rather do slice of life that's fine, I’d love to see them just bopping about in this sort of world.  

-Quick note on requested -punk AUs - Beside the aesthetics and cool aspects, steampunk is a commentary on the exploitative machinations of imperialism.  Biopunk is commentary on the bleak consequences of unethical and unchecked scientific and technological advancement.  Cyberpunk is commentary on capitalism’s efforts to buy the world out from under us and where information technology enforces governmental control.  Solarpunk is commentary on how to grow a brighter future for everyone instead of submitting to gloom.  Clockworkpunk is often a commentary on the restrictiveness of social classes.  They are dystopias created one way or another by governments, businesses, and/or religious orders.  I like these dynamics in fic.  If you choose to write one of these AUs, please keep this in mind, even if it is just in the background of your story.

-Shinra is a great antagonist for the punk, space and western AUs. From corrupt company or government to President Shinra just being a greedy A-hole making their lives difficult.  Feel free to use the SOLDIERs, Turks, or Hojo here.

-As for the other three Genre shift AUs, I’d like to see some slice of life.  Unless you have something more exciting to tell.

Animal shape-shifter AU:  Go big and flashy or small and mundane.  One character as the shape-shifter or everyone.  Have them keep it a secret or something everyone knows about/can do.

Wing AU:  Cloud with wings.  One wing? A pair? Many?  What color or style?  Why does he have them?  Is he still freaking out, resigned or are they normal for him?  Do other people have them?  Set in canon or AU.  Just want a story with wings.

Mer AU:  I really like the idea of there being different types of mer (reef, open ocean, abyssal, fresh water, etc,) as well as a mer’s appearance taking after real fish and other aquatic animals.  Not that interested in seeing mer/human interactions, more what is life like in the water.

 Cloud is a Selkie:  Someone finds Cloud on the shore of the cold, wild sea.  Maybe he’s injured, maybe he’s lost his seal skin, maybe something else happened.  Whatever it is, it prevents Cloud from flipping them off and going back to the sea immediately.

Modern/Mundane domestic AU: (Please get into the nitty-gritty of the AU and don’t have it as just a backdrop)  Flower shop AU.  Mechanic AU.  Bar AU.  Bike/Street Gang AU.  Street racer AU.  Dance - Ballet, Ballroom, Modern AU.  Street/Indie Music AU.  Street Fashion AU.  Community theater AU.  Chocobo ranch AU.  Chocobo Racer AU.

4# Time Travel I absolutely love time travel, so here are a few different prompts to work with.   - TT Cloud leaving “gifts” for Zack.  Post-time travel Cloud mentoring Zack.  TT Cloud being reborn as a twin to CC Cloud (with or without his enhancements).  TT Cloud ends up looking after/traveling with/fighting his younger self. TT ACC Cloud and CC Cloud as teenage cadets together. - TT Cloud going back far enough to save/free Ifalna.  Cloud goes back to after the Nibelheim incident.   - Cloud traveling back with Denzel and/or Marlene.  The Seventh Heaven Family traveling back.    Barret as a single time traveler.    Denzel and/or Marlene are the time travelers without any adults.  The kids meeting mama Strife. - Buster Sword legacy fic with Cloud and/or Zack as the time traveler/s.  Having the fusion swords and the future buster sword with him/them would be cool, as well as Angeal’s reaction to an upgraded buster sword.  Angeal & Genesis being called out on their actions in Crisis Core.

-Things I like in this genre are: older-self interacting with younger self;  Hojo and President Shinra getting their comeuppance;  The time traveler having to separate their feeling/opinions on someone’s past self from their future self;  Ripple effects;  Having to deal with something they didn’t know or at least didn’t have all the details for;  Interacting with previously deceased family and/or friends;  The time traveler being overpowered/lvl 99;  Time traveler having end game gear;  Revealing they are a time traveler & others' reactions to it;  Others trying to figure out what makes the time traveler so weird (answer - time travel, duh);  

#ff7 #ao3 gift exchange #prompt letter #exchange letters

[7-wonders]

All You Have Is Your Fire

Summary: Reconnections and realizations abound.

Word Count: 1223

A/N: You asked, and here it is: Mad Love! So, I’m thinking this is the end of the first “act,” so to speak. Then I can start the chapters over again from one, and it will be fresh and brand new. Let me know your thoughts, my inbox is always open, and if you enjoyed I hope you’ll like, comment and reblog!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

Things were supposed to be better. You had been rescued, your kidnappers killed, feelings had been confessed and reciprocated, and you finally were where you belonged. The end, case closed...right?

If only things were so simple. For weeks, the kidnapping has rested heavy on your heart. More specifically, the person who had a hand in orchestrating it. You had wanted to forgive Mallory almost since the moment you saw her with Michael, but common sense held you back. You needed to play it cool, but life has a funny way of putting people back into your path. When the stars aligned and Mallory asked to see you, it had happened mere days after you realized the only person you could turn to for your troubles was Mallory.

“Thank you...for meeting me, I mean.” You sit across the small table from the doe-eyed brunette who was once, what seems like a million years ago, your best friend. Mallory fidgets nervously, smiling to try and diffuse the tension.

“Once I figured out that this wasn’t another trap, it seemed like a good opportunity to air out some grievances.” The smile on Mallory’s face freezes at your words before slowly sliding off her face. 

“I really am sorry, (Y/N). I’ve said it before, but I’ll continue to say it until I’m old and gray if that’s what it will take for you to believe me.”

“I know that you’re sorry. I just don’t know that we’ll ever have the relationship that we once did.”

“However weird it sounds, you forgave Michael and fell in love with him after he kidnapped you. I’m holding out hope that you’ll forgive me too.”

You bite back a smile, knowing that she’s right. Already, just sitting across from her for a couple of minutes has shown just how much you’ve missed her. Mallory, for better or for worse, is something like a platonic soulmate. Besides, at least you weren’t forced to marry her too. “Just be glad that Michael doesn’t know, then there’d be a lot more trouble.”

“How’s that going? Your relationship.”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but it’s good. Never been better.” You’re not lying. In all honesty, things were better. Now that your relationship with Michael was “official,” or as official as a relationship can be when you married months before even dating, any of the petty fights you previously had seemed to have disappeared. Domestic life with your Antichrist was everything you had dreamed it would be, and yet…

“There’s something nagging at you.”

You shoot her a look, but nod anyways. “Not related to Michael, per se.”

“But Michael-adjacent?”

“Yeah. Specifically, the Cooperative.”

Mallory’s coven was well aware of the Cooperative, even before you were. The Satanists were just the first layer of Michael’s followers. These were the people that would follow Michael to the ends of the Earth and do anything that he asked of them. The Cooperative held all of the funds, making sure that Michael could carry out this apocalypse in the first place. Actors, artists, politicians, world leaders: all have earned a seat at the table that Michael sat at the head of.

After your Snow White moment, as you’ve so lovingly dubbed the poison apple incident, the Cooperative had become less of a priority. The good thing to come out of that was Michael taking a step back from his apocalypse-related shenanigans, even more so when you were kidnapped. Up until last week, you had thought the Illuminati-but-not-really was on the back burner for good.

Michael had approached you from where you were sitting on the couch, reading a book. You smiled at him, reaching a hand out and pulling him down next to you. It was a peaceful, sweet moment until Michael had to go and ruin it.

“I have a meeting on Saturday,” he said.

“Why do you have a meeting on a weekend?”

Michael grimaced, and you knew it could only mean bad news. “Well, people with a lot of influence typically can’t make their way to a classified location for a meeting during the week.”

“You’re meeting with the Cooperative?” you groaned.

“I have to, (Y/N). I technically own them, and they’re the ones funding my father’s plan.”

Your blood ran cold in your veins. “Wait, you’re still doing the whole end of the world thing?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just--it seemed like that was sort of...forgotten about.”

“I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been quite distracted lately--”

“Are you calling me a distraction?” you said with a fake pout before Michael had given you a quick kiss.

“A very cute distraction, of course. But now that life has settled down a little bit, it’s time for me to get back to business.”

You continued to sit there with Michael in what he had thought was a quiet peacefulness. Meanwhile, your mind had begun to race; was the fate of the world really in your hands?

“The answer’s pretty simple, isn’t it?” Mallory asks.

“Enlighten me.”

“You have to convince Michael that the world is better the way that it is and that he shouldn’t unleash a nuclear firestorm to ‘cleanse’ it.”

You snort. “Nice and easy, huh?”

“You could always get pregnant, that would definitely put ending the world on hold.”

“Mallory!” Laughing, you reach across the table and swat at her arm. “I’m not going to hinge saving the world on having a baby.”

“You’re right, but that can definitely be part of the five year plan.” Mallory winks conspiratorially. “I think you need to subtly undermine him. Not in a malicious way, but in a way that starts to show him that the Cooperative isn’t right.”

“So, should I go to those stupid meetings with him?”

“It wouldn’t hurt. Make him think you’re on his side, as well as the Cooperative’s side, but then make him second guess his choices. You’re so smart, you could come up with a million logical reasons as to why Michael shouldn’t go down this path.”

Groaning, you put your head in your hands. “Why is this so complicated?”

“Don’t ask me, I’m not the one in love with the Antichrist.” Mallory glances at her phone. “I should probably go. I have to meet with the council so we can elect new members, considering half of our previous council was killed.”

“Don’t look at me, I’m not the one who kidnapped the Antichrist’s wife,” you retort.

“I’ve missed you, (Y/N).”

“I’ve missed you too,” you reply sincerely. “I wish things hadn’t happened the way that they did.”

“Trust me, I do too. I was so stupid for being under Cordelia’s influence like that, and letting her warped idea of sisterhood guide me.”

“We all do stupid things. And you were the one who helped to rescue me.” Mallory beams, knowing that she’s made her way back into your good graces.

On your way home, you can’t help but to think about all that’s at stake, as well as how cruel fate is. You and Michael are complete and total opposites, yet were brought together by circumstance. The dark to your light, the yin to your yang. Two sides of the same coin. Michael’s meant to destroy the world…

And apparently, you’re meant to save it.

//

Tag list: @betweenthesepaiges @gemini-el @90sroger @nsainmoonchild @brattylovee @dark-mei-rose @ladyrindt @yoheyyosup @zivooshka @michaellangdon @trelaney @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @xavierplympton @ajokeformur-ray @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @hplotrfan @1-800-bitchcraft @coloursunlimited @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @langdonslove @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @tcc-gizmachine @gold-dragon-slayer @atombombastic @blakewaterxx @wroteclassicaly @forever1313 @kaetastic @loilko @riotsouls666 @lustminaj @hecohansen31 @accio-rogers @holylangdon @sojournmichael @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @diaryofalandlockedmermaid​

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfiction #american horror story #american horror story imagines #american horror story imagine #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #ahs apocalypse imagine #ahs fanfiction