Y’all remember that one Macaque FIC? The one where he kinda adopts MK instead of betraying him?
(I’m working on chapter four of OMGAFS I promise)
***You can’t give up***
Eskel’s VERY concerned.
You said it was what I wanted
That it wouldn’t work once you left
That it fucking killed you when I told you
Because it was like I didn’t want to try
That our relationship was easy for me to give up
You’re not allowed to tell me how I felt that night
Because there was so much I wanted to say
But it would’ve all been selfish
that you didn’t deserve to deal with
Don’t act like it would’ve worked
We both know how you are
Watching you fuck around for the past year
didn’t make me have any doubts about what I said
They haven’t talked about their problems… and she didn’t mind…
Over the past couple of days, they’ve stayed away from the world, behind the closed door of that motel room - nothing but a haze of sex, drugs, and alcohol with them.
After the horrible discussion that almost left her with a black eye and ended with them tangled between the sheets, a silent agreement was made between them - never let their problems escalate to that point ever again… even if they had to lie.
And in all honesty, they liked it like that. They were happy like that.
The only time they left the comfiness of the room, and when they didn’t have to socialize when someone else, was when they went out to do some shopping - either being food or booze or whatever.
When it came to talking with his dealers, she would always stay a little to the side while he did everything - she didn’t mind it, knowing that he didn’t like when she talked to any of his friends.
The other time they left the room was to use the pool that existed in the motel, either going in the water or just laying in the sun, it didn’t matter as long as they were together.
They were happy like this…
The only time they seemed to have a problem during their peaceful moments was one day when her friends showed up while she was sunbathing.
They had come to check on her and do some general catching up about some stuff going on in their lives. Everything was going okay until they mentioned him…
He wasn’t a big fan of her friends, blaming them for the way she acted during their rough patch, always staying on the sidelines whenever they were around, always warning her that they didn’t really care about her.
Her friends weren’t kind to him either - every word out of their mouths was all about how he was keeping her to himself; that their relationship wasn’t normal; that they were too attached and dependent on one another…
What did they even knew about their relationship? They weren’t the ones involved in it. They didn’t know him or how he felt. They didn’t know how she felt - And they didn’t care either, they just wanted to be the voices of reason without any evidence.
She got up and left them, not wanting to hear another word about something they clearly didn’t understand - she was better off without them.
Going back to their room she found him lying in bed, his back against the headboard with a blunt between his lips.
She laid next to him, her arms wrapped around his waist and her head against his chest, cuddling as close as possible as music coming from his phone filled the silence between them.
He softly stroke her hair, the blunt now between his fingers - silently asking if she wanted to ride the same high as him - which she gladly took as flashes of their relationship and her friends’ words kept clashing in her mind… anything to quiet the voices in her mind.
They didn’t need anyone else as long as they had each other… and that was enough.
found family or bust
Word Count: 747
Summary: “A Tale of Two Stans” canon divergence. Things still go horribly wrong.
“You left me behind, you jerk!” Stan shouted, angry tears brimming as he yanked on the journal. “It was supposed to be us forever, you ruined my life!”
“You ruined your own life!” Ford landed a solid kick to Stan’s chest, shoving him backwards and wrenching the book from his grasp. For a split second, Ford felt a rush of relief.
But then Stan collided with the control panel.
Summary: When the Winchester family gets together to commemorate a milestone, the celebration takes a turn no one expected. How will they continue to be a family afterwards? CAN they?!
Or did they cross a line of no return?
Takes place in 2005. Dean is 26, Sam is 22 and Y/N is 19. An AU of sorts as there are no monsters, no talk of the Supernatural. John and Mary are both alive and had another kid after Sam. Y/N is the baby of the family and their only daughter.
Warnings: language, sadness, funeral, feelings
A/N: This is an Alternate Universe where Mary didn’t die on the ceiling of Sam’s nursery; John didn’t go out seeking revenge on the monster that killed in wife, thus raising his sons like soldiers. No Mary and John is a married couple who have had their bumps and through their 30 years of marriage.
Also a huge thank you to @firefly-graphics for providing me with the awesome divider!!
Pairing: Loki x reader
Summary: After you breakup, Loki regrets how he pushed you away. He can only hope that you’ll come back to him.
Warnings: lots of angst and some fluff at the end
A/N: Requested by the lovely @gaitwae. Hope you enjoy!
Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord
Disclaimer: Gif not mine.
It happened on a sunny day that Loki found out you’d moved on and started seeing someone else. It didn’t feel right that the world should be lit up by the golden rays when there was such a storm inside him. He tried his best to push his thoughts aside, he really did, but you kept popping into his mind. You and that boorish new boyfriend of yours. Loki didn’t know the man, but he already hated him. In reality, he hated himself far more for letting you go.
Loki had blocked most of the events leading to your breakup from his mind, but on the floor among the glass he’d shattered, it was coming back to him. He hadn’t even meant to break anything, not exactly. It was just that he was so angry, he wasn’t looking where he was going. Then the god bumped into the end table and, in a fit of rage, flipped it over. He hadn’t been thinking about the vase sitting on top of it. Or what was in it for that matter. Otherwise he may have been more careful as not to end up sitting among shards and your favorite flowers.
So… I re-watched Stardust recently and this (very) angsty idea sort of jumped at me.
There’s this part where one of the witches curses another so she won’t be able to see Yvaine (the star).
And then I was like, what if same but Malec?
Basically, instead of asking Alec to break up with Magnus in exchange for his magic back, Asmodeus curses one of them to not be able to see or hear the other.
If someone wants to write this, I’d love you forever 😍 (just tag me so I can read and cheer you on 🎉)
The curse (for reference):
“Seek all you wish.
You shall not see the star, touch it, smell or hear it.
You will not perceive her even if she stands before you.”
When Gabriel Agreste was unmasked as Hawk Moth, Adrien’s world came crashing down. What little remained of his family was torn apart, and he found himself lost in life, not even his Lady at his side. However with Marinette’s support and love, he finds himself able to carry on.
Words: 1361, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Waiting
Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973910
Since the minibots are already the right size, it’s all a matter of changing their alt modes to that of a cassette. It’s easy enough. Just some simple changes in alt mode kibble and a few tweaks to their t-cog and voila! A new cassette!
Creating the bond between Soundwave and the new cassettes is not as easy though. The minibots-turned-cassettes refuse at first but after seeing the state Soundwave is in, some bots, like Bumblebee, agree. He’s simply too nice to let him die. The others have to be coerced into bonding.
Once Soundwave feels that bond, he slowly starts coming to life again. He’s still distraught and mourning the loss of his previous cassettes but the new bond forces him to move on since his coding won’t allow him to mistreat or ignore his cassettes. So even if he wants to continue mourning he can’t, Soundwave has to return to his duties as third in command.
Summary: After Magnus breaks up with Alec and chooses to align with the Seelie Queen, pulling the Downworld Cabinet with him, Alec is arrested by the Clave for high treason. Will Magnus find out in time to save him from a death sentence?
Ten minutes left.
Alec stumbles when his guards push him roughly toward the center of the courtyard, struggling to regain his balance with his hands still cuffed in front of him. One of the guards swipes his stele along the cuffs to remove them, and Alec flexes his wrists to help the blood flow back into his hands. He takes a pause to steady himself, then raises his head high and walks the rest of the way.
The large rune carved in the stone of the courtyard hasn’t been used in a long time. There hasn’t been an execution in the New York Institute in over a century. Alec has to fight himself not to look down as he steps in the middle of the rune, instead holding Imogen’s gaze until she looks away.
Beyond the no-man’s-land created by the rune and its safety circle, the courtyard is crowded. They’re all familiar faces, people Alec has led for most of the last decade. There is no hunger, no blood-thirst in their eyes. In fact, the atmosphere of the courtyard is muted and heavy. Disapproving.
Imogen is in front of the crowd, holding an adamas staff. Behind her, the Institute’s core stone of adamas has been set on a small platform, waiting to power the staff. The staff would normally be handled by a Silent Brother, Alec knows, but there must not have been any within the warlocks’ wards. Imogen is taking it upon herself to do the deed, just like she almost did with Valentine – or the man she thought was Valentine. Alec is looking at his executioner.
anger has settled in him, and then evaporated. There is no time left
for bitterness, not when he has mere minutes to live. Imogen doesn’t
“Paimon will help you find her, and we’ll spend the next Lantern Rite together!”
Liebesgeschichten haben ein Ende, weil jede Lüge irgendwann ein Ende haben muss… Nur die Wahrheit hält ewig…
by @evaneddie | Angst / MCD (but not really, its okay) | 4.2k | complete | teen
Summary: eleven minutes. that’s all the time he has. eleven minutes until all the emotional pain is over. eleven minutes until he can finally let go. he hasn’t moved in the last three. paralysed in worry and who knows what else. cold and scared. there’s nothing anyone can do for him now, and damn he wishes he had taken that call.
Trembling, Whumpee’s knees nearly gave out from under them right then and there. Their throat pulsed as they swallowed down the trace bits of bile that had risen into their mouth.
“Wh- what- did you say?”
Whumper scowled, their fists balled tighter than a garage door spring.
“I said you’re a monster! You left us without even a glance behind you! How could you- You will never be a part of the family again! Not after what you did.”
Gulping back a sob, Whumpee splayed their hands out to catch themselves at the lurch it created.
“I’m sorry! I’ve said I’m sorry. I was hurting and didn’t know what to do and I see now that I hurt everyone and I-”
An explosion of pain on the side of Whumpee’s face cut them off, a cry ripped from Whumpee’s lips instead. Landing hard, the breath was ripped from their lungs, only managing to plead with their eyes at Whumper.
However, Whumper’s expression remained the same, fury oozing off of them.
“You don’t get to say sorry after what you put us through. I won’t let you hurt them anymore. If you ever try to contact anyone, I will personally see to it that you won’t ever be able to do that again. It’s the least of what you deserve.”
Another bloom of pain erupted as Whumper’s foot kicked at Whumpee’s stomach, not giving Whumpee a proper chance to breathe, much less reply.
That didn’t stop Whumper though.
“Don’t ever come back, Whumpee. I hope you rot.”
And with tears silently streaming down Whumpee’s cheeks, Whumper left.
“Ge- get up!” The caregiver screams, tears rolling down their cheek. “Plea- please [Whumpee]- Get up!”
But the whumpee doesn’t. They tried, they really did; weakly pushing themselves up, only to fall back down with a choked cry. “S- sorry,” they whisper, barely audible. “Ju- just- just leave m- me. G- go.”
To be honest, Boba had the mandalorian clocked the moment he saw him, zipping over the dunes on his speeder and the few interactions he had seen before the man had left Tatooine.
He had known even before he was close enough to smell the other man or speak to him that this was an omega. It was all in the way the other behaved around the child, the way he kept him safe and yes, the creed of the mandalorians made children the most important thing.
But not everyone acted with younglings like an omega on instincts.
It was in the way the man kept scenting the child as best he could with what little skin he had exposed, in the way he cradled him close and Boba had seen others like the mandalorian before.
Omegas with pups had a certain way about them.
His own father had been the same and Jango was always fresh in Boba’s mind, even as he had lost the memory of his father’s voice and the way he smelled with the years.
But the way he behaved, the way he cradled Boba close to his chest and pressed his scent to Boba’s skin… no, that was something Boba would never forget.
It was one of the things that had made Boba hate his own alpha designation in his younger years when he finally presented, wanting to claw himself out of his skin as he wished for that connection to his father.
But he had been an unaltered clone, his designation, just like his personality, had formed on its own and sometimes he wondered if his buir would have been proud to see his son an alpha or just not really cared one way or another.
The clones had all been without secondary genders, except for the alphas and the nulls, the earliest of the clones where the Kamino’s had still been working on the DNA sequences. So maybe Boba should just be grateful he had a designation.
He had seen the issues the clones went through without having one, the way humans reacted to them, the way they seemed to be considered less. Some of them had even reacted that way to Boba when they saw his face, until they realized he wasn’t just a clone with a fake scent but a true alpha, ready to kark them up.
Boba had his designation and he had his life and he had made peace with many things in his life.
But what he couldn’t make peace with was the scent of distressed omega, the alpha in him sitting up and taking notice even as he tried to keep his distance.
He had a duty to help the man find his foundling for returning the armor, seeing how Djarin had lost everything, Boba might be the best one that could help him.
At least in the ship department and Boba was a capable man, his scar and stint in the sarlacc had done nothing to ruin his skills if they had turned rusty inside it. Training and muscle memory had fixed that however once he was out, hunting for his armor.
And Boba owed him a debt, one Djarin could trust, that Boba wouldn’t suddenly turn on him like the rest of the galaxy could.
Being in Slave 1, the scent was hard to escape and even Fennec was starting to show discomfort at it, the beta often glancing towards the hold where Djarin had holed up, manically checking, dismantling, cleaning and setting together his weapons again.
Finally, Boba let out a deep sigh and stood from the controls, giving Fennec a nod to take the controls before making his way to the doors. He could hear the woman’s relief as she switched seats.
Clearly she thought he’d deal with it and Boba intended to.
But if he was successful, that was something else.
Djarin is sitting on an ammo crate in the hold, a blaster in hand, simply cradling the weapon as if he realizes he can’t do more with it but can’t bring himself to put it down, as if he wishes he was cradling something else with how gentle his gloved hands are. Even without the scent, Boba would have been able to tell that this was a miserable man.
The bounty hunter sits slumped, his head bent down and he doesn’t even twitch when Boba steps in.
If it wasn’t for the way he was breathing, Boba could have been forgiven for thinking the man asleep.
Slowly, so not to set the other of, Boba makes his way over and sits down beside him, looking at the hands cradling the blaster. “…We’ll get him back to you,” He murmured quietly, watching the armor jerk a bit. “My debt to you isn’t over until your pup is with you.” Boba promised softly, carefully releasing some of his scent.
It could go either way, doing it but the mando slowly tilted his head towards Boba and he could hear the other take a breath, pause then breath even deeper, twitching slightly on the crate.
If Boba was to take a guess, he’d imagine the omega wanted to press closer.
But Boba was a stranger, an unfamiliar alpha, to shift closer now was simply instincts and not caution and logical thoughts speaking.
But seeing as how his scent was helping, Boba released more of it, the distressed omega scent lessening slowly.
Sighing, Boba reached up and removed his helmet, ignoring how the mando twitched. Those who followed the Watch Creed was always a bit iffy about exposed faces. Never got it himself and Boba knew of enough mando that removed their helmets.
It was the loss of armor that was the real sanction for becoming dar’manda, not showing your face.
But to each their own and since the scent of distressed omega didn’t grow, Boba set his helmet down beside his feet, focusing on Djarin again. “…Think about your child scent.” He murmured quietly.
A quiet whine escaped the bounty hunter.
Slowly, Boba reached out and settled his hand on the others vembrace. “Think about the way you’ll hold him when you get him back,” He pushed gently. “Think about what you’ll say to him,” Djarin let out another whimper, dropping his forehead to Boba’s pauldron. “Think about what you’ll do to that demagolka that took him… and draw strength from all of it.” A small but sharp growl escaped the vocoder of the other.
Boba wasn’t sure if he had really helped the feisty, distressed omega but the scent of distressed omega had lessened, replaced by Boba’s own pheromones and the scent of angry omega.
The sharp kind of scent.
The kind of scent that made mandalorian alphas sit up and take notice as it was the kind of omega they wanted. The kind of scent that warned everyone to be on their best behavior or they would get fucked up.
Moff Gideon better have an army on his cruiser when they caught up with him and the child Boba thought with satisfaction, because he had a storm coming.
A storm in the form of a very pissed of, very protective omega. “Jate, we’ll get him back.” Boba promised, squeezing the others forearm gently.