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waffles-art-writing · 1 year

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Platonic!Task Force 141 X Medic!FtM!Reader

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Summary: You just wanted a quiet evening to fill out paper work, but you get a surprise visit by the team. They say you’re just like your brother, Price talks to you after you stitch up the boys.

Proofread: Yes when I was half asleep :) - so not really

Pairing: Platonic! Task Force 141 x Medic! FtM!Reader

WordCount: IDK

Age Rating: 15+ preferably

Codename: Stitch

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: swearing, light description of injury, normal COD talk, banter, yelling, pissed off reader. Reader is Trans!

Request: YES! Thank you so much!

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You tap your pen on your desk as you read over numerous files, all of them stating similar words to many questions. One of the younger medics is cleaning up the medical wing while you have locked yourself away in your office, shutting the world out as you pinch the bridge of your nose. You drop the pen on the dark oak desk, grabbing the files and storming out of the office, you are reading over a particular file in hand. Written in messy chicken scratch on the patient sheet is ‘Sergeant Mactavish’ and ‘Sergeant Garrick’ . You know them both, well. Too well in fact, yet they don’t know too much about you. You’ve patched them both and the rest of the 141 far too many times for you to count.

Price recruited you for your skills with field medicine, you weren’t always a medic. You were once in communication, but your brother convinced you to become a medic when he showed you some tips and tricks. Which you ate up like a starved animal. You never knew how much this would help further your career in the military, especially after witnessing the tragedy that has left a deep wound in your heart for the rest of your life.

You rip open the curtain that conceals a bed fromt he rest of the medical ward. Your hands clutch the papers in hand, arms crossing over your chest. “What the fuck did you do?” You sneer, your voice low as you eye the two sergeants, Ghost is watching from the side, Price next to him with a small smirk. “Oh hey doc!” Soap cheers, trying to keep you from blowing a fuse. Gaz is sitting there quietly, his hand clutching the side of his arm. “The first patient file I picked up is yours, Mactavish! And you have the heart to include Garrick on this horribly written excuse of a reason as to WHY! You both have either a bullet or knife in your arms!?” You yell, your voice cracking slightly as you growl at them both. Ghost is silently thanking whatever god is out there, that he’s not the one being scolded this time round.

“And YOU!” You spit, pointing at Price and Ghost with the papers, your hold on the flimsy sheets causing them to crumple. “You left them unsupervised?! How idiotic are you guys!?” You slap the papers down on the side table, grabbing some gloves out of their box from the wall. Pulling them on, you're seething. “I’m sorry Stitch… we didn’t mean to actually get hurt…” Gaz quietly mumbles as he looks at you from the other side of the Soap. They are both seated on the edge of the medical bed, Gaz by the foot do the bed, Soap up by the head of the bed.

You grit your teeth as you turn around. You’re slightly shorter than all the men in the room, not by much, but still shorter. Price can see how much like your twin brother you are, the same concern when it comes to caring for the team, the same rage that fuels you when someone has done something idiotic. “It’s fine… No, actually it's not! It’s not fine! You’re both grown men for Christ's sake, you both gotta learn how to stop being children.” You huff out as you stand in front of Gaz, he’s the one that got clipped by the bullet on his bicep. Your touch is soft when you work on cleaning the injury. “Look Lad, we didn’t mean to-” Soap goes quiet when you stare at him out of the corner of your eye. “You have the same look as your brother…” Soap states.

They all knew your brother, he was one of the field medics that helped them in the past on a few missions and especially when they got back. They always went to him for his help, but when the chopper got shot down that he was in, they couldn’t find anyone else they could trust to come on the missions. That is until they found out he had a twin, Price knew of you, he promised to your brother to help you through everything. He was one of the main supporters to help you through your transition, even teaching you how to shave. Which was an experience and half. Many small cuts on your jaw…

“Yeah well, I am his twin after all Mactavish” You huff, gently applying gauze to Gaz’s arm and wrapping it securely in a bandage. “Thank’s” Gaz states quietly, you nod as you change the gloves to a clean pair to start working on Soap. Price is talking to them both, Ghost adding a few things here and there while you just quietly work on stitching up the Scotsman’s arm. You securely stitch up the wound, giving Gaz his knife back after cleaning it. “Now, you two gotta stop doing stupid shit.” You growl as you finish wrapping Soap’s arm. He nods his thanks as he moves his arm around a little, a small wince forming.

“Take pain meds every four hours, on the hour… You don’t want to be chasing the pain like you always do…” you sigh, cleaning up the area. They all nod their thanks, taking the pain meds from you one their way out. Price stops just shy of the door. You turn to look at him, you notice he's staring at you. “Price?” Your voice is quiet, you feel like there's something on your face.

Price walks over, his hand coming up to your jaw. He’s noticed something, definitely. “Be more careful with that razor kid. Don’t wanna slice your neck open next time…” he sighs, his thumb running over the irritated wound on the underside of your jaw. How the hell did he notice that? You don’t have a clue, other than he just knows. “Yeah, I know… one of the rookies slammed open the bathroom door so I got spooked is all…” you chuckles lightly, shrugging as Price just smiles, shaking his head lightly. “You’ve done good kid… your brother would be proud.” He states, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

“Thanks… He would be happy to know I can still put the boys in their place even as a guy.” You laugh, Price chuckles along with you, he turns to leave. “You know where to find me if you need something, kid, see you at the debrief tomorrow at O-Six-Hundred.” He says over his shoulder, leaving you with a wave. You nod as you turn to walk back to your office, your hand subconsciously coming up to touch the small cut. You’re happy you have Price there for you, the team doesn’t seem to mind at all about your transition, if they even know anything about it that is.

Overall, working for the 141 has its highs and lows, but you still love them even if they drive you up the walls mad.

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marvelling-at-marvel-blog · 5 months

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Today I have done a lot of thinking about fictional charachters because...well my day has beeen horrible and its been better than thinking about that.

I saw a clip of shameless S1 where Mickey is dirty and unclean and I remember how a lot of people have said maybe he didn't really care until Ian came along or started to try for Ian. And sure, that may be part of it, but in my experience, there are so many other reasons people are unclean for, and I think a few would apply to Mickey.

1. I think part of the reasons he is reguarly covered in dirt is that being dirty tends to hide or blend in bruises. It is not going to work completely but enough to make people wonder if that is dirt or a bruise, or if they are seeing it properly. I imagine Terry wasn't light handed in beatings, and the kids were expected to cover for it. While teenage Mickey could say he was in a fight younger Mickey would have easily used that just some days old dirt excuse.

2. Lack of hot water or just water in his house. I don't think paying the bills on time was high on Terry's list either, and we know the house was basically a dump. It wouldnt surprise me if they reguarly had no hot water or if they did it run out quickly with the old water heater and you did not want to be the one causing Terry to have a cold shower. Or he saved the hot water for Mandy because he knows she actually really cares about her appearance and being clean

3. As a reason not to have to be with girls. In his first episode, Karen mentions that maybe Mickey is coming to find her to ask her out again and then says basically says along the lines of "I wouldn't because he smells like shit.' Being unclean and dirty means girls are less likely to want to go out with him, so he can ask the girls who he knows will say no then have it be that they are a b***ch who said no, or she don't know what she missing. He comes out of looking like her really doesn't care he got turned down but still leaves the impression his into girls. It is like a protective layer

4. I think caring about your appearance and the way you're dressed is something Mickey's dad would find pansy. Which Ugh, Terry is the worst.

5. I don't think some people really understand how vulnerable being naked in a place you dont feel safe in is. I feel like if Terry is mad, drunk, or just desires it, he would be more than happy to come for you. Being naked and unprepared is not a fun thought. So Mickey saves his showers for when he is sure his alone becauze like hell he is trusting that flimsy lock on the door (if there even is one cause Svetlana just walks in with a hammer on Ian)

Sure maybe once Ian comes along that is more incentive to be clean and presentable but I think he really starts to be clean is season 4 onwards where he knows and admits how much Ian means to him and that he loves him, no longer has go pretend to be into girls (his out or he has the excuse of his married) but also when his dad is in jail and maybe the bills are getting paid, maybe he feels safer in the house.

I just hate the common thinking of, that person is unclean because they don't care. That is rarely the real reason in my experience.

#mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich #mandy milkovich #season 1 shameless #there is almost a reason why people are unclean #protective responses to neglect and trauma appear in many forms #shameless meta #meta #no doubt he wants to be better for Ian as well #but I dont think that is the only reason he suddenly became clean and cared about his appearance #i love Mickey so much #Season 1 and 2 Mickey hold a special place in my heart

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kin-the-muffin · 2 months

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i currently have a half-baked theory about alastor…

ok so in the finale, he said that he wants freedom, meaning he has been restricted in some way. but as far as we’ve seen and can tell, he is basically free to do as he wishes. and of course there’s the theory with lilith being the one owning his soul, which he might have traded away to gain such insane amounts of power. but what has he ever done that didn’t seem to be in his best interest?

charlie.

yea, yea, i hear you and your sassy clips of him saying he’s helping the hotel simply for boredom’s sake and that he enjoys watching people try to do something meaningful but then fail in the process but! that would imply that he’d done so before, but we have never, not once, ever heard that he even dabbled in such a thing. (and don’t you dare try to tell me that he actually cares about charlie, the man is the most manipulative, sadistic little mf i’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something because i’ve seen miraculous ladybug and hate liela rossi as much as anyone else.) the only things we know about his past is that he appeared in hell very suddenly with lots of power, he toppled countless overlords overnight, and his radio podcast killed tons of demons. nothing of this has to do with other beings in hell trying to make it better (as i highly doubt any of those overlords had good intentions since they were, well, overlords). but he doesn’t seem the type to do things meaninglessly, he always has ulterior motives.

but then if his excuses of entertainment are as flimsy as i’m making them out to be then why would he ever help charlie? well, i think that brings us back to lilith. it’s far from a rarely-noticed detail that the length of alastor and her’s disappearances were for the same amount of time and while we know that lilith spent that time in heaven (if that even is lilith, but idk enough about that theory so i’m just gonna assume that it’s her and that she’s been in heaven the whole time), we don’t have a smack-dab CLUE as to what alastor was up to during his vacay. then he just shows up out of nowhere, at the idealistic princess of hell’s doorstep of all places.

well, i’ve had a sneaking suspicion for a while that lilith’s deal (at least part of it), in exchange for his power, was to help charlie in some way. i’m thinking that’s why he seemed so torn-up about how he almost ‘died for his friends’. he doesn’t care for any of them (except maybe nifty but i think that’s just bonding over shared mania (i think rosie (and maybe zestial) is the only one he truly, honestly cares about, but i get the feeling that even that relationship is pretty business-based)).

we have no idea what lilith is like, we have absolutely zero characterization of her except for what charlie explains about her in episode 1, that she’s passionate and hardworking and stubborn and independent—qualities that charlie mostly has in abundance. so i would say that she’s cared about charlie this whole time but due to whatever is keeping her in heaven, she can’t help her, except that lilith seems a little too malevolent to care about charlie’s hotel. why would she? she fell in love with a dreamer who shared her rebellious heart and for this, she was the first human soul cast into hell. she has never had any kind of reason as to why she would ever want to go to heaven, or anyone else for that matter (as she did work to make hell into the semi-civil place it is now). and we have no idea how close she and charlie were before she left (i suspect we’ll learn more about that in season 2), so we can’t assume that she’ll just support charlie, whatever her aspirations may be. so i honestly have no idea as to why lilith would enlist alastor to help charlie, but i am fairly convinced that this is the case of what’s happened.

thoughts?

#kin’s rambles #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel thoughts #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel lilith #lilith morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie morningstar #also the fact that husk never noted his seven-year absence is…suspicous to say the least #he never made a quip like ‘dangit i thought youd finally died’ or anything that implied he’d known #maybe alastor was just keeping a low profile but needed to continue business and thus kept contact with a few of his contracted souls?#then again mimzy never mentioned his absence either… and i dont think rosie did #idk whats up with this man but dangit i hope we get answers

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distort-opia · 1 year

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I read this awhile ago and I don't recall who but there was this scene where batman almost killed/ left someone to die in the snow because that person almost killed dick. and like isn't that crazy that he basically broke his rule for grayson?? not for Jason, who did actually die in such a gruesome fashion as a teen, but dick who just almost died ... like bruhhh Bruce has such interesting flexibility when it comes to even his own morality

Ah yes, you mean the time Bruce left KGBeast to die (again, actually) for shooting and nearly killing Dick:

Batman (2016) #57

Technically, he also snapped the guy's neck, but that's neither here nor there.

I wouldn't say that he broke his one rule, though. At least he didn't in his own eyes. He didn't kill directly, he only allowed for the possibility of death-- injuring, and then not saving. I know it sounds like a flimsy excuse, but Bruce's one rule regarding killing is... highly subjective, and you're right about the dubious flexibility when it comes to his rules in general. He's kinda-sorta-killed people before (some of them even point blank, like shooting Darkseid in Final Crisis).

Also, I wouldn't really pit Bruce's reaction when Dick almost died against Bruce's reaction when Jason died, for two reasons. First, Bruce reacted quite similarly after Jason's death. He allowed for the possibility of Joker dying by not saving him from the helicopter crash, much like he allowed for the possibility of KGBeast dying:

Batman: A Death In The Family

Batman: Gotham Knights #44

Secondly, Jason was the first death of someone Bruce called family, that he experienced after his parents' loss. It was a brutal, horrible death and he blamed himself for it. It sent him down such a spiral that it required the intervention of Tim (who got himself into Bruce's whole mess and did so much to help, but man, at what cost; RIP the kid's mental health). And even though he's definitely stabilized by Tim and by Dick... Bruce is not ever the same, after Jason's death. His controlling tendencies, his anger, his tendency to distance himself, the guilt-- they all get worse. But then, because the guy's life is a cosmic tragedy, another Robin kinda dies (Stephanie) and another Robin kinda dies (Damian) and then another Robin kinda dies (Tim).

And I like Heroes in Crisis as much as the next person -- which is to say, not much -- but these panels do capture one of Bruce's most painful ongoing conflicts:

Heroes in Crisis #2

You crack at some point, after so much grief. Yes, everyone eventually comes back, but we as readers know that. Bruce has no guarantees. So... him being so brutal with KGBeast after he almost killed Dick makes sense to me personally, and it's not just a matter of "he cares more about Dick than he cared about Jason".

#Bruce is a character DEFINED by loss living in a comic book world #which is famously a world in which death is never truly the end #the more time passes and the more losses he accumulates the more insane this is to me #he's cursed in such an insidious way by the very nature of the medium he lives in #he's Sisyphus pushing up the boulder and the boulder is grief #asks #batman #batman meta #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #my meta

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pumpkinpyre · 7 months

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The whole concept of a DNI just rubs me the wrong way, honestly. I've been thinking about them on and off for awhile, and the same purpose could be served completely if you just shifted the wording a little. Not "you don't interact with me if," but "I will not interact with you if." Explain your own behavior and limitations without policing other people's behavior. I can't nail down precisely what it is but I feel like everyone would be served a lot better if the focus was changed from everyone else's actions to one's own.

I think reframing it to be about what you personally can and can't handle, will and won't deal with, would stop some of them from being so damn vague, too. "Basic DNI criteria" means literally nothing, and it shouldn't. There is not and can not be one perfect list that everyone can fit into or outside of with no overlapping. There will be people that like different things, that define things differently. I know there's people that argue that selfcest shipping is just as bad as incest shipping and engaging with any media containing it is just the same as getting off to irl incest (and whether or not someone is getting off to the media containing it is irrelevant). And yet someone who doesn't consider selfcest to be incest can still put up a "basic DNI criteria" in their bio. You can't know what they mean!

Another reason I think reframing it would help, is it would stop the subset of people that use it as a shield. Like for example, people who put "x shippers dni" and then still leave hate and flames on fanart/fic of their hated ship, and then when they get backlash, just accuses everyone talking to them of crossing their boundaries of their dni. "I won't interact if" or "I commonly block if" would render that already flimsy defense completely useless. It wouldn't stop people from doing it because haters gonna hate, but at least they have less excuses to try and say they aren't the asshole in that situation.

Man and don't get me started when DNIs include things like "abusive," like. Even if someone was self aware enough to know that they have, in fact, abused people, then they're exactly the kind of person to ignore that. "Bad people dni" they don't give a shit they're going to be awful to you anyway.

There's no way this is gonna like actually reach anyone because my internet space is small on purpose, but idk. I just wanted to ramble. There are so many better ways to protect yourself online than putting the responsibility on strangers to check your bio with every post they casually scroll past, read everything (or magically know what you mean by "basic dni criteria" or "ect"), and actually follow it.

#long post #ask to tag #I dunno man I just needed to get the words out

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bibblelevi · 2 years

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Demon bf levi. "Come here. Sit on my lap and tell me what you want, Dove." Reader is weary and sore after a long day and requests he help her relax. Levi massages her body as a form of foreplay that leads to gentle but passionate sex 😇

A/N: Ahhhh I’m finally getting to the requests you guys sent in. Sorry for the lateness. Also, it’s been a while since I’ve sat down and wrote anything, so I’m a little rusty. Note that all my demon Levi blurbs are based-off the one shot I wrote a few months ago, so if some things are confusing, it’s probably touched on in the fic.

Demon! Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader

Prompt: “Come here. Sit on my lap and tell me what you want, ____.”

Warnings for demon! Levi, monsterfucking/demon-fucking, semi-toxic relationship(?), this is actually very romantic, mentions of past dacryphilia/crying

“Oh, it’s you,” you hum, hardly sparing him a glance. You already know it’s him by the weight of his footsteps. By his breathing. His unbearable silence. “It’s been a while. Well, only two months.”

“You know I can get easily caught up,” he says. His voice washes over you, and as much as you want to shut him out, you bend to him like a flimsy branch.

“Excuses.”

“Pardon me?”

“You’re pardoned.”

Levi raises his brows and ambles closer, but you pay his proximity no mind. You’re reordering the books on your shelves in alphabetical order, some of which are special editions he plucked from homes he passed through and realms he scoured.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today,” he says, too close to your ear. Your breath hitches, but you pull away before his hands can find your waist. You busy yourself, again, with the shelves. “Otherwise that would’ve resulted in a punishment, you know.”

You click your tongue, “Everyday you’re gone is punishment enough. Your stupid little contract ensures that.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” You want to slap the growing smirk right from his mouth, but he would like the sting of it too much. So you simmer in your silent fury, nostrils flaring. “Were you good while I was away? You kept your hands—“ He gently cups your elbows and guides your arms to your sides. An obvious hardness presses against you from behind. He breathes in the familiar scent masked over your neck. “You kept your hands off of what’s mine, yes?”

You work your lower lip with your teeth, “Remind me, what exactly is yours, Levi?”

“Oh, you know,” he murmurs. His hands squeeze your hips, then slide upwards until he’s groping your breasts. His thumbs pinch down on your nipples through your thin shirt, and they immediately peak to attention. Heat blooms between your legs. “These.”

“Only those?”

A breathless, tainted little laugh fans your nap, and his hands slide back down. He cups you fully through your shorts, pressing into your clit with flattened, strong fingers. Your head falls into the crook of his neck and you dry-swallow your annoyance.

Okay, fine. Fuck.

“And this, of course. You know I don’t like it when you entertain yourself while I’m away.”

“You know I don’t like it when you’re away, period,” you snap. You find the willpower to shove him off you and walk briskly into the kitchen.

You shove your hands under the sink, scrubbing the dirt and dust from your nails. Levi leans against the doorframe and folds his arms, eyes flitting up and down, freshening the image of you in his mind that, no matter how long it’s been since he has seen you, never seems to dull (for whatever reason…). To a human, a month is a somewhat long feat. To him, it’s the blink of an eye—until he sees you. Then it’s like time is just some abstract thing with no name and no particular meaning. With you, everything just is.

“It wasn’t intentional,” he says, and he means it. If he could spend every moment with you, eyes open, eyes shut, he would. It would not take even a moment of his consideration. But he can’t. He’s inevitably bound to his circumstance. “It never is.”

“Right. You just get caught up. So caught up that you can’t respond to any of my letters.”

“Letters?”

“Yes, Levi. Letters. You know, where I pour out my heart and soul and weep ink onto parchment, bitching about how much I wish you were here.”

“I never received any letters from you. If I did, I would write back. Of course I would write back.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I would. I don’t know why I didn’t receive them. What else did they say?”

“I don’t remember,” you lie, drying your hands. “Maybe something about liking you despite your mediocrity.”

“Oh, well. That’s awfully sweet of you to say, dove,” he replies, and he sounds so serious that it makes you snort. “Very human of you, too.”

“Isn’t it?”

You brush past him back into the connected living room, and he follows slowly and sets himself on the couch. For a while, he watches you, not saying anything. Then he smells it on you.

“Come here,” you can hear the raw begging in his voice he tries to hide. You look over your shoulder, the soft tapping of his palm on his thigh making your breath catch. “Sit on my lap and tell me what you want, dove.”

You try and fail to hide the longing in your eyes. It’s impossible. Like a pet, you flock towards him and that enticing thigh, and you sit yourself down. One warm hand rests on your outer thigh while the other splays itself over your back. You tuck your cheek into his chest and inhale the smell of him.

The moment his chin and mouth nestle into your hair, you know you’re a goner. Anything he wants, he’ll get, and you’ll give it. Damn him to hell.

“I want a kiss,” you whisper, blinking up at him.

He tilts his head, and that hand on your back moves upward until he’s cradling your head. His mouth hovers over yours. “Just a kiss?”

You nod weakly, “For now.”

A flicker of a smile tugs at his pretty mouth, and you let him hold you as he kisses you soft. His lips move gently over yours, inviting you to set the pace, and you decide you don’t want it rough or fast or hard. You want precious time to feel every inch of him you’ve missed, and you want to feel it with your whole body.

His lips are warm, softer than the luxurious silk he insists you use on your pillow cases. Softer than the petals of the violets you grow in your garden that never wilt because an “inconsequential” wave of his hand. It only makes sense that someone doomed to live forever would always feel and taste beautiful as to not fade with the times.

You pull away, buzzing in your chest and stomach, and he looks at you through his lower lashes, unable to put a finger on why his heart is pounding in his throat. It’s some strange phenomenon that occurs when he’s with you and only you, like he’s sick or scared.

“Anything else?” he croaks out.

You reach up and play with the loose buttons on his shirt. “I’ve been doing a lot of lifting and gardening today,” you say as you press a soft kiss to his neck. “Will you rub the knots out of my shoulders?”

“Yes.”

You take his hand and lead him into your bedroom, a tiny room with a slanted, triangle-shaped ceiling and tall, cracked windows built into one plain wall. Sheer curtains blow in the breeze, lowering the temperature in the room. The two of you slide in the creaky bed on a cloud of floral bedsheets and pillows, and you turn your back to him.

He helps lift the button-up off your body and wets his lips. Your bare back is empty of marks and bruises—something he wants to remedy immediately. But then, that would be the opposite of what you want: comfort, rather than a reminder.

You sprawl on your stomach, and he doesn’t waste a second, starting at your shoulders. You exhale as he kneads the tension from your body with a few squeezes.

“What the hell have you been lifting to get yourself like this? I told you, you need to take more salt baths with—“

“Levi, it’s fine,” you assure, reaching back to pat whatever part of him is close enough. “Just keep hitting that spot—fuck.”

His thumb digs into a tight knot, and you groan, wincing at his probing. He grants a small reprieve by rubbing his palms over your shoulder blades, then he descends. The pads of his fingers melt into your skin, and he drapes himself over you in a somewhat protective stance.

His thumbs tickle the base of your spine—your tailbone—as his breath fans over your middle back.

“You don’t need a massage,” he whispers. He hooks his fingers under the band of your loose shorts and panties and slowly pulls both them down. A dull throb attacks, worsened by the kiss of cool air. “You need a good fucking, sweetheart.”

A chaste kiss lands on the bump of your vertebrae, then he fondles your ass, down to the backs of your thighs. He parts you open for the taking, ‘mmn’-ing in satisfaction.

“I’m too tired to do much,” you murmur into the crook of your arm.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” he says as he traces your slit. Your body shudders in response. “Just lay there and hold nothing back.”

You nod, and he busies himself between your legs. His hands brace themselves on your thighs as he laps up your slick with kitten-like strokes. A wanton moan vibrates your sex and coaxes a shy whimper from your throat, the searing hot pad of his tongue painting white behind your lids. Two months without Levi’s mouth is two months too long, you digress.

He flicks your clit and gets you close before he gently flips you onto your back. Through half-lidded eyes, you watch him and level with the strange softness in his gaze that makes you fuzzy and blurry in your head. His cheeks are rosy, sweat-ridden on the highest parts of his cheekbones, and his lips are cast in a sheen of saliva and slick.

“Hi,” you sigh when your eyes meet again.

He trails his palm up your torso and gropes your breast, then he cradles your jaw. “Hi.”

You think this is the first time you’ve been intimate like this since you first met. No dynamics, no titles. No toys (that frankly, look like medieval torture devices), rewards, or punishments. You’re just two people having sex, when Levi is quite literally the furthest from a “person” as you can get. Whether it means anything or not, you don’t know. You tell yourself not to read much into it, because everything about Levi is predictable. He leaves for months, you agonize over his absence; he returns unannounced and undresses you with his eyes; you lay down and take what he gives you because it feels so fucking good every time.

He braces a hand on the headboard and snakes one down your stomach, until two fingertips are working your clit, bringing you right to the edge. He opens your body up and uses your wetness to make everything feel white-hot and perfect, then he uses the same hand to free himself from his pants.

Usually, he would spend longer playing. He likes the imagery of you coming apart, sobbing your eyes out because of how desperate you are. Your face is pretty when it’s as wet as your cunt, and when it gets scrunched then goes slack from the sheer power of your climax. Probably because he’s thinking: I did that to her. I made her feel so fucking good she cried.

But not now. He’s frenzied and impatient, but you open your thighs further and press your feet together, until your legs are butterflied. A breathy, higher-pitched sound flutters from his lips as he pushes into your cunt, satiating that two-month long hunger.

“You always… take me so well,” he moans.

You hurry to untuck his shirt and tear it over his head so you can grab his naked arms and the soft muscle on his stomach. You’re greedy like that.

He slowly rocks into you, filling you and angling himself just right until he’s grating against that sensitive spot. Your head falls back, mouth gaped and skin dewy with sweat. His hair falls in front of his eyes, obscuring the vulnerability, while you lay their bare, exposed nerve-endings and all. He said not to hold back anything, so you don’t. You moan his name.

He doesn’t say much, but that just means his breathing is louder and his bitten-back noises are raspier. Your fingers trace the grooves in his ribs while he braces one hand on your hip and the other on the headboard. The leverage helps him slam in harder, hit you deeper, until eventually, you’re too close to hold out any longer.

“Levi, fuck, can I—“

“Yes. Cum,” he gasps into your open mouth, and you do.

You clamp down on him as you climax, your body shaking. Your nails leave marks in his skin that will disappear by the time you’ve caught your breath.

As his cock pistons in and out, pumping you through your release, a throaty noise travels from his mouth into yours.

“Levi!” you whine against his lips.

“It’s okay. You’re doing good. Almost there,” he pants, then moans again.

The overstimulation is painfully sweet, and your face screws. Your cunt squelches as you take him deeper until finally, warmth spills into you, his release coating your walls. It seeps out and some smears over your inner thighs.

He kisses you through his sloppy thrusts and loses his rhythm, his hand lifting from your hip to cradle your cheek. Those fingertips graze you with a glass-like tenderness.

“Good?” he asks.

You nod, scratching his thigh. “Mm-hm.”

He goes to pull himself from you, but your sudden grip makes him pause.

“No. Stay inside,” you demand. You crane your neck, searching for his mouth. A pair of pillowy lips eases you back into the comfort of your bed.

“Okay.”

“And stay longer than a few days this time.”

“Okay.”

Your finger draws a line down his Adam’s apple, and you find his eyes, melting under the weight of his simmering gaze. “Stay the month.

He smooths your hair down. “Okay.”

#Someone tell me to stop writing different variations of demon levi being gone for months then returning #levi ackerman smut #levi smut #aot smut #aot x reader smut #snk smut #levi ackerman x reader smut

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neoyi · 7 months

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I had to think about this for a while, partially because I've only ever seen the entirety of Adventure Time once, so the minuscule details of its tangled lore is lost on me.

I remember waiting with bated breath for Simon and Betty's reunion come AT's series finale, and feeling cheated that it did not end that way. Season after season of frustration as Betty slipped into madness the more she tried to cure Simon, before ultimately ending up so far off that she and Simon couldn't possibly reconnect the way they had hoped, left something of a bitter taste in my mouth.

I guess there was something full circle that Betty ended up obsessed and lost in her mind as much as her significant other did when he wore the crown: two nerdy peas in a pod who were so consumed by their goals that it tragically overtook them. Simon's the one who made it out, because we've been with him the longest, it would have be upsetting if he never reverted back, but it meant he'd have to go on without Betty. And I was thinking back then, "Why? Why did that have to happen?" They were two folks in love who genuinely cared and missed each other, why weren't they allowed their happy ending? I guess it just felt like needless suffering.

I had hoped Fionna and Cake would have provided closure, and it did, and it wasn't what I wanted or expected, and at first, I grimaced, but after much thought, I ultimately came out of it perfectly content with its decision.

At first, I did think it felt flimsy Fionna and Cake established Simon's relationship with Betty as less than rose-tinted than we originally thought. After all, his romance was suppose to be a contrast to what we originally perceived the Ice King to be: a creepy dude who kidnapped princesses to marry when, contrarily, he was, instead, a mellow nerd who loved one woman.

Then I noticed that Fionna and Cake wasn't altering what AT established about their relationship, but re-contextualizing it based on little cues the show had always left behind. Of course it sucked the crown corrupted Simon beyond the point of no return, but flashback showed he had an obsession to it, and relied on it so heavily that he ignored the warnings of his adopted daughter. Marceline begged him not to put it on because he would never come out of it. He used it to survive back then, but it now firmly establishes that he wants it back because it was the only solution that would have easily resolved everything.

Fionna and Cake gets to live if he puts on the crown, his excuse to resume the role of a wintry weirdo, instead of his actual reason why (because he's sad, lonely, and feels his life has no purpose or meaning, so why bother?) To which, showing that Simon is so caught up in his own thing, that Betty wrapped her life around him (unintentionally so, I like that it's presented as a genuine mistake and not deliberately malicious), and how he's still so hung up on everything meant that, yeah, they weren't ever going to work long-term. Also Simon needed therapy and change in his life (which he accomplished by the end.)

I also liked this approach because it explains WHY Betty was so hellbent on freeing Simon from the crown. Her entire character in AT revolved around Simon, and Fionna and Cake dared to ask why it is and how unhealthy it was. Being GOLB likely meant Betty finally had the means to break from Simon and think about their relationship; she finally gained agency and can exist outside of him. What she plans to do next? Hey, man, she's literally Satan or some manner of devilish Chaos God, she can do anything the fuck she wants. Good for her.

It is tough to take a plot or character motive and rework it from its original intention; if you're not good at it, then it comes off inconsistent and a disservice to its narrative/character arc. I was ready to frown if Simon and Betty hadn't gotten back together by the end of this show, but instead, I was blown away by its thoughtfulness to explore and validate why Simon and Betty had to be apart. Only when they break their obsessiveness can they both move on and change.

Also, on another note, leave it to Fionna and Cake to make a multiverse show that I really and thoroughly enjoyed, mostly because so many of these worlds had previously been established. It's LORE! How cool is that?

I've never had a strong desire to own Adventure Time (or Distant Lands) on physical media. I liked the shows, but wasn't really in love with it. Fionna and Cake though? Give it to me. Give me the bluray. I want it. I love this show. It's so damn good. Shut up and take my money!

#adventure time #fionna and cake #neoyi talks #fionna and cake spoilers

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grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks · 22 days

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One More First Kiss - Chapter 4

There were a lot of instances, really, that could be considered their "first kiss." A look at some moments that might, depending on your perspective, count as Jon and Martin's first kiss. For the Jonmartin week day 1 prompt "First Kiss" - Updates one chapter a day, every day of Jonmartin Week.

For day four of @jonmartinweek, I'm back with another chapter of my Jmart "first kiss" fic. This chapter features a dinner date, a bottle of wine, and Jon's remarkable ability to avoid having an important conversation. Plus, a kiss on the cheek. Check it out on AO3, or read below:

Jon’s excuses for being here were pretty flimsy.

Except – except – they were actually Martin’s excuses. It was Martin who’d suggested that they might move their weekend overtime sessions (because Martin had started to work practically the same long hours as Jon, picking up the slack of the rest of the Archives team – a development for which Jon felt both guilty and grateful) from the damp and musty basement to a location where they might occasionally see the sun, and he was the one who’d suggested his own apartment as an option, and he was the one who’d added, “Plus, there’s a new recipe I’ve been meaning to try, so I thought maybe I could…” and then trailed off before he ever had to say the implied, make you dinner.

Which was how Jon found himself standing on Martin’s doorstep with a box of statements under one arm and a bottle of wine in the other hand.

It made knocking on the door a bit tricky.

“You made it!” Martin said when Jon had finally managed to knock. He was positively beaming – nose scrunching, round cheeks dimpling, soft brown eyes crinkling at the corners – and the sight made Jon’s heart do something anxious and fluttery in his chest.

“Yes.” Jon stepped inside and set down his box on a waiting side table. “I hope I’m not too early.”

“No, no, right on time,” Martin said, then his eyes caught on the bottle of wine in Jon’s hand. “What’s that?”

Jon thrust it towards him awkwardly. “A gift,” he said. “A-A thank you gift, for hosting. And– And for cooking, and…” and for putting in about a hundred hours of unpaid overtime, and for keeping me company in the Archives every night for the past three weeks, and for patching up my wounds when I get hurt, and for not strangling me at any point during the first year we worked together, even though I richly deserved it. Jon could have kept listing reasons he had to thank Martin all afternoon, but the longer he went on, the more apparent it would have been that a bottle of wine was entirely insufficient for the task, so instead he trailed off there and added, "I know tannins can sometimes give you a headache, so I went with a white instead of a red; I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh.” Oh, no, the smile was back. This time his eyebrows had gotten involved, scrunching together and turning slightly upwards, as though he was genuinely touched, and Jon had to busy himself taking off his shoes to keep himself from staring. “That’s– That’s actually really thoughtful.”

It wasn’t. If Jon was truly thoughtful, he would have remembered that wine gave Martin a headache before he was already in the wine aisle, selecting a bottle. He’d thought about getting something else, but he couldn’t think of another gift that wouldn’t tip them out of the realm of plausible deniability that they were so precariously occupying at the moment. If Jon had shown up on Martin’s doorstep with chocolates, or with flowers, it would have given the game away, made it clear that there was something here they really ought to talk about.

And Jon knew that they should talk about it anyway. They should talk about the fact that Martin was making flimsy excuses to get Jon over his house for dinner, and they should talk about the fact that Jon let himself be persuaded by them. They should talk about the way Martin kept smiling at Jon like he invented sunshine, and the unpleasant fluttering thing Jon’s heart always did in response, and the way their fingers brushed when Martin took the bottle from him. And while they were at it, they should probably talk about the fact that Jon hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the time Martin had kissed his hand, even after all these months.

They should talk.

But Jon can’t.

To talk about it would make it real. There was something between them now, something soft and fragile and nerve wracking, and if it was real, then it could end. It was only a matter of time, really, before something – Elias, the Unknowing, Jon’s own self-sabotage – came along to snatch this away from them.

And anyway, Martin deserved more than Jon could give him right now. He deserved Jon’s full attention. He deserved a real date, one where they weren’t both working (because Jon had brought a box of statements, and he fully intended to read them). He deserved someone who was in it for the long haul, and wasn’t going to get himself kidnapped or killed in the near future. He deserved guarantees, and Jon could make none.

So Jon didn’t mention the way Martin’s hands grazed his shoulders as he took Jon’s coat; he just said, “It’s nothing, really,” and wished his words weren’t quite so true.

Jon followed Martin to the kitchen where he found a heavy cast iron dutch oven on the stove that looked to be about as old as Martin himself, filled with roughly chopped aubergine, squash, peppers, and tomatoes, all simmering away and filling the flat with a warm, earthy aroma.

“I was just about to get this into the oven, actually,” Martin said. He slipped on a pair of oven mitts and hefted the pot up with both hands. “Do you mind getting…” Martin gestured to the oven, having to point with his elbow since his hands were full, and Jon dutifully opened it for him.

“Thanks,” Martin said, and he smiled again, and Jon was in big trouble.

With the food in the oven and a timer set, the two sat down to work. They spread out statements and notebooks across Martin’s small kitchen table, and pored over them in comfortable silence.

They’d gotten good at comfortable silences. They had spent a lot of nights like this, recently, though usually the beams of bright afternoon sunlight were replaced by the soft glow of Jon’s desktop lamp (because Jon would rather die than stay up until three in the morning reading under flickering overhead fluorescents), and the air smelled like must and old paper rather than roasting aubergine. Still, the basics were the same. They sat, they read. They each listened to the comforting sounds of the other breathing, and tapping their fingers, and occasionally complaining.

“This person’s handwriting,” Martin muttered irritably, before pushing the statement across the table to Jon. “Can you tell if this is meant to be an S or a G?”

“G, I think.”

“Thanks,” Martin said. He read the offending name again, then his face lit up with a sudden thought. “Hang on, James Gimondi – that’s the clown, right? The one who– w-well, Tim’s brother–”

Jon shook his head. “That’s Joseph Grimaldi.”

“Right.” Martin turned back to the statement. “I did think it was odd that a 19th-century clown would be hiring an accounting service in 1983,” he sighed.

“To be fair, I didn’t think a 20th-century Russian ringmaster would be in Georgie’s living room, and we both know how that turned out.”

Martin opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by the buzzing of the kitchen timer.

“That’s the ratatouille done,” he said.

Jon tidied up the kitchen table while Martin took the dish out of the oven and rummaged through the cabinets for a pair of clean bowls. Then he grabbed the bottle of wine.

“Corkscrew?” he asked, and Martin wordlessly pointed him to the top drawer, beside the sink. “Glasses?” he asked next, when the corkscrew was found, and Martin pointed to the cabinet above the stove.

Martin cut a few thick slices from a loaf of sourdough (I made it this morning, he admitted sheepishly as he did, I used to stress-bake when I first got transferred to the Archives and I think I actually got pretty good at it) and threw them in the oven to toast for a few minutes while the ratatouille cooled enough to eat.

Eventually, the wine was poured, the dish was plated, and the bread was very lightly toasted, and the pair sat down to eat.

“Cheers,” Martin said, raising his glass, and Jon mirrored the motion.

“Cheers.”

He took a bite. Jon had not been eating particularly well of late – mostly takeout and ready meals, occasionally the granola bars he kept in his desk drawer so he could stay fed enough to maintain consciousness without leaving his office to get something more substantial – but he was certain that even if his standards were higher, the meal would be delicious. It was warm and hearty and tasted like summer, and he couldn’t stop a noise of disbelieving pleasure from escaping him.

“Martin, this is incredible.”

Martin beamed again. “Thanks.” He ducked his head to try and hide his joy, but it radiated off of him regardless. “I’ve always really liked cooking, actually. I haven’t had the chance to cook much lately, because, y’know – I mean, work’s been…” He gestured, vaguely, and let Jon fill in the blanks for exactly how work had been.

Jon cleared his throat. “You really don’t need to work so late, you know. I appreciate it, truly, b-but I’m not sure it’s a good idea to spend so much time–”

“Hypocrite!” Martin cried, shaking his head. “The absolute gall to tell me I work too much!”

“W-Well, just because I do doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“Believe me, I know that,” Martin grinned. Jon felt a hot flush creeping towards his cheeks. “But with the Unknowing and everything, I can’t exactly slack off right now, can I?” Jon opened his mouth to protest – fully aware that it would only be further hypocrisy – when Martin added, more softly, “Anyway, it’s not so bad. I’ve had good company.”

Under the table, he nudged his foot playfully into Jon’s shin.

They really needed to talk about that.

Jon took another bite of the ratatouille and swallowed hard. “What, um. W-What are the herbs in this?” he asked, because he was a coward. “Is that basil?”

There was basil, in the dish, it turned out, and thyme as well, and that vein of conversation steered them well away from any dangerous confessions.

When they had finished their meal, Jon took care of the washing up – though he had to fend off a lot of protests from Martin to do so – and then it was time to get back to work.

They night stretched on, mostly in silence. Jon tore his way through statement after statement, waiting for the one that would finally make the Unknowing make sense, would give him all the answers of how to stop it, but none revealed itself.

When the time came for Jon to leave, Martin insisted on walking Jon to his tube station. Jon didn’t argue.

The air was cool and pleasant, the hot summer day having given way, while they worked, to a crisp summer night. Jon hadn’t had much to drink – he’d been there, first and foremost, for work – but the wine had still left him feeling loose and light and buzzy. Martin’s hand brushed occasionally against his as they walked, and Jon let himself enjoy the contact.

When they arrived, they hovered beside the steps to the station, not yet ready to part ways.

“Thank you for this, Martin,” Jon said. “I had a lovely time tonight. This…” he huffed a quiet laugh, “This might be embarrassing to admit given how much of it was work, but this is the most I’ve enjoyed myself in ages.”

Martin’s eyebrows did that scrunching thing again, the one that looked so painfully sincere, as he said, “Me, too. I… I had fun.”

And it might have been the alcohol that made Jon do what he did next, or it might have been the eyebrows, but either way, he lifted himself onto his tiptoes, tugged lightly at the collar of Martin’s shirt to pull him forward, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Martin,” he said, before he could do anything else reckless.

“Goodnight, Jon,” Martin murmured, after a moment.

Jon made his way into the tube station, but he stopped at the door. When he turned around for one last look, he found Martin lifting a hand to his cheek as though unable to quite believe what had just happened.

#tma fanfic #tma fic #jonmartin fic #do not archive #jmart fic #jonmartin fanfic #jonmartinweek 2024 #jonmartin week 2024

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theresthesnitch · 1 year

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What we do to get by, Part 13

Read the rest here.

***

Going out with Remus became a regular thing, and Sirius loved it. He’d had to convince Remus a few times, but several nights over the next few weeks, they ended up going. In the beginning, he found more reasons to celebrate.

“Remus! We have to go out again. My patient is improving!"

Remus looked at him with furrowed brows. "Didn't we already celebrate that?"

Sirius couldn't dim his smile. "You don't understand. He might get to go home soon!"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Alright. Fine. Let's go again."

Sirius started looking for reasons to celebrate, anything to get Remus to let him take him to a pub.

Healer Donohue told me I did well! You don't understand Moony, it's like a huge deal. He hates everyone.

I solved a new case today! Everyone else was stumped!

I didn't punch an arsehole today!

One day, he managed to convince Remus to celebrate after he received some good news of his own. It all started when James stopped by, with a clever smile and bouncing on his toes like he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share.

“So, Moony dear. I have some good news for you, if you’re interested.” James wagged his eyebrows at Remus. “A job.”

Remus’s brows furrowed, a deep crease between them. “Alright. Who is the party for?”

James waved a hand in front of his face. “Not that kind of job. My dad knows this guy, Mr. Scamander, who is doing research on magical creatures, the kind of stuff you talked about doing one day. He’s looking for an assistant, and he’s hoping to find someone who can take over for him when he retires in a few years.”

Sirius watched Remus as James talked, and watched his face fall as James talked. When he finished, Remus shook his head. “I can’t, James. I don’t have the N.E.W.T.s for that. I don’t even have any O.W.L. results.”

“Dad worked it out. He got some friend of his at the Ministry to pull your canceled results.” James pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Remus. “You did really well, actually. Better than we did. Five Os and three Es. Dad shared them with Mr. Scamander, and he’s willing to take you on with these results.”

“James, I can’t.” Remus looked honestly disappointed, glancing up from his results. “It would only last until the first full moon, or the second, and then your dad will be on the outs with him because of me. I appreciate it, but I can’t–”

“He already knows, Remus. He doesn’t care.”

“How is that possible?” Remus asked, incredulously. “There’s no way he actually doesn’t care.”

James folded his hands in front of him. “You see, Mr. Scamander’s wife had lycanthropy. She was bitten shortly after they were married, and he spent his whole life watching her change. So, no. He’s not going to fire you after a few moons. More than anyone, he understands.”

Remus went quiet for a long time, and they waited. Remus chewed on his bottom lip, thinking over the offer. “He’s not–” Remus sighed, running a hand over his face. “He doesn’t just want to study me? I mean– I’m not one of the creatures he wants to study.”

James shook his head, a smile on his face. “He’s actually in contact with one of the local wolf packs, and regularly works with the pack leader. It’s just a job, Remus. If you want it.”

Remus pursed his lips together, and it almost looked like he was angry. Except, Sirius noticed the way his breaths were slightly shaky, and he knew that Remus was trying to hold back tears.

Sirius wasn’t sure when he’d learned to read Remus again, but he wasn’t surprised at all when Remus accepted a moment later.

Sirius clapped his hands together. “Let’s celebrate!”

Remus didn’t protest at all.

***

It was easier to get Remus to agree when James and Peter came too. He suspected that Remus wanted to go too, as much as he fought the offer, especially when Sirius’s excuses became more and more flimsy. Sirius’s personal favorite was I found trousers that I thought didn’t fit, and they look great on me. Surely Remus wanted to go out if that was an excuse he would accept found my trousers as a reason to go out and celebrate.

Eventually, he stopped offering a reason, and merely asked Remus if he fancied a trip to the pub. Remus shrugged and accepted, and Sirius was thrilled.

***

They lingered at the pub one day, and Sirius let Remus buy him a round out of his first paycheck. Sirius didn't mind, and Remus was so happy to finally be able to do it.

They sipped their drinks, bellies full of greasy chips, and the conversation stayed light. Or at least it did until Remus's brow furrowed. "Padfoot, can I ask you something?"

"Absolutely. Anything, Moony." Sirius didn't even have to think about it. He'd give Remus anything he needed.

Remus spun his glass on the table, leaving a wet ring when he picked it up and drank deeply. He set it down again with a sigh. "Would you tell me the list?"

"The list?"

Remus tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and he seemed incapable of looking at Sirius now. "You said you could write a whole list of things about me that weren't bad. Maybe you were just being hyperbolic, because I don't think there are actually that many things about me that are okay, but I think, if you were serious, I'd really like to hear them." Remus looked up at him, still not quite meeting his eyes. "I think maybe I need to hear it."

Sirius didn't answer immediately. He picked up his glass and took a long sip to buy himself time. He set it back down with a clank, and Remus flinched. "Can I have some time to think about it, or do you need it now?"

Remus looked surprised, then looked away again. "Oh, um. Yeah. You can have some time. 'Course."

They drank quietly for a while, and Sirius was already trying to make a list in his head. He wanted to put thought into this, to do it right, so that maybe Remus would believe him. His eyes caught on Remus, after a bit, who was chewing on his lip and looking concerned.

Sirius couldn’t help but smile. “Wonderful, by the way.”

Remus’s eyes shot to him. “What?”

“The list?” Sirius leaned forward on his hand, elbow on the table. “It was a list of all the wonderful things about you. Not ‘okay’ or ‘good.’” Sirius shrugged. “I could make that list too, but this is going to be a list of all the most wonderful things about you.”

Remus looked down, a small smile teasing his lips, but Sirius could tell he didn’t believe it. “Alright, if you say so.”

“I do.” Sirius took another drink. “You’ll see.”

***

Sirius scratched out another item on his list and banged his head against the wall. It wasn’t that all the things he came up with weren’t true. He just didn’t think Remus would believe him. He could tell him that he was kind and smart and funny, but Remus would never be able to see it if he wrote it that way.

“Whatcha doing?”

Sirius jumped, nearly falling off the step he was sitting on in the St. Mungo’s stairwell. “Merlin’s pubic lice, Evans! I’m going to put a fucking warning charm on you. You’re quiet as a mouse.”

“It’s Potter now. And How do you think I make sure my husband stays out of trouble?” Lily sat down on the step below him, stretching her legs out over the riser. “Gotta sneak up on him.”

Sirius snorted. “I’m sure it also helps that he tells you everything as soon as he does it, too.”

Lily smiled. “Yes, well, must keep him on his toes anyway.” Lily nodded at the parchment in his hand. “What are you doing?”

Sirius sighed, and handed it to her. “I told Remus that I would have to make a list of all the wonderful things about him if he kept insulting himself. He called my bluff and asked for the list. Turns out, it’s a lot harder to write that list than I expected.”

Lily hummed and folded the paper. “So don’t write a list.”

“I can’t just not write it, Evans. He told me he needs it.”

She pinched his arm. “It’s Potter, you berk, but Remus doesn’t need a list.”

Sirius snatched it back from her. “That’s what he said.”

“Yes, well, he may have said it, but you and I both know that’s not what he’s looking for.” Lily pulled her knees up and rested her forearms on her legs. “He needs to hear there’s something in him worth loving. That’s not going to be found on some list.”

Sirius sighed. “You’re probably right, but how do I tell him that?”

Lily shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“So helpful. Thank you.” Sirius rolled his eyes.

Lily laughed, nudging his arm. “I could tell you, but you and I both know that you know him better. I think that whatever you come up with will be far better than any suggestion I have.”

“You assume I’m going to come up with something.”

“I know you will.” Lily laid her head back against the wall. “Just think about Remus. How would Remus best hear it?”

Sirius hummed as he looked back down at his parchment. How would Remus best hear it?

***

“Did you know that old wizarding family houses have blood purity traps?” Sirius sat cross-legged in the chair next to the bed. “I knew this one house that would drop anyone with less than pure blood eight generations back through a trapdoor under the welcome mat into the basement.”

“No way.” Colin leaned forward on his hands, elbows on his knees. “What if you had guests come over? Or a party?”

“Oh, for shame if you invite someone with dirty blood.” Sirius let out a faux shudder. “Of course, you might get in particular trouble if the Minister of Magic pays a visit to your house and gets stuck in the basement.”

“Oh no, did that really happen?”

“It did.” Sirius laughed. “I swear, I’ve never seen the Minister so angry. It doesn’t help that he was trapped in a room with several illegal dark artifacts. He ended up arresting my uncle rather than staying for tea.”

“Your uncle!” Colin fell back laughing. “That’s terrible.”

“Honestly, he deserved worse. He got out the same day.”

Colin smiled wickedly. “The Minister or your uncle?”

Sirius laughed. “Both, actually.” Sirius reached forward and clapped a hand on Colin’s knee. “So let me see your curse. I hear it’s nearly gone!”

Colin smiled so widely that Sirius couldn’t help but smile too. He pulled his shirt back, revealing a nearly faded mark. “See? It’s barely there. I think it might actually go away this time.”

Sirius reached out, running his fingers along the curse trails. “I hope you’re right. It looks much better.”

“I know I’m right.” Colin pulled his shirt down when Sirius removed his hand. “It’s going to go away, and mum says I might be able to go to Hogwarts for my last years. Can you imagine, Sirius?”

“Well, let’s not get ourselves too excited. You’ve still got a long way to go.”

Colin shook his head, infectious smile on his face. “Nah, I’m going to get out of here, and I’m going to get to go to Hogwarts, and it’s all thanks to you, Sirius.”

Sirius leaned forward on his hands. “I’m really glad we found something, Colin.”

“Me too.” Colin sighed, laying back in his bed dramatically. “I am disappointed about one thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not going to get to hear the end of the roommate story.” Colin clicked his tongue disappointedly. “You’re going to have to write to me and tell me how you got together with him. I want the whole thing written out in detail, for posterity sake.”

Sirius scoffed. “I don’t think you should hold your breath on that one, buddy. We’re just friends. There’s no story to te–” Sirius sat up a little straighter. “Colin, you’re a bloody genius.”

“I know, I’m told all the time.” Colin shrugged. “What did I do this time?”

Sirius laughed. “You just gave me the answer to a problem.”

“Are you being cryptic on purpose?” Colin grasped his chest and fell back. “I’m a dying boy. You can’t tease me like that.”

“Hey, I thought you weren’t dying anymore?” Sirius laughed.

Colin shrugged. “I hafta use all the tools in my toolbox.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to see.” Sirius uncurled his legs and stood up from the chair. “Right now, I’ve got important business to tend to."

Sirius held the thick envelope in his hands, running his thumbs over the smooth paper. The parchment had weight to it–metaphorically as well as physically. Sirius had poured himself entirely into the letter, letting every feeling he’d never been able to say flow out of him and imbue itself into the words on the page. It had taken several pages and several drafts, but the final pages were sealed into this envelope in his hands. Sirius carried it in front of him, looking at it as though it carried his entire world in it.

It felt like it carried his entire world.

He found Remus sitting in the living room, curled up in the corner of the couch with a book propped up on his knees. Sirius smiled at the way his eyebrows were furrowed, concentrating on his book. He looked up when Sirius sat down by his feet.

Sirius ran his finger along the edge of the letter, then handed it to Remus. “This is for you.”

Remus looked at it in confusion as he took it. “It is? Did I get a letter?”

“Uh, sort of.” Sirius gathered his hair up in a bun behind his head and let it go. “I wrote you a letter.”

Remus looked up from the parchment, hands now completely still. “You wrote it?”

“You asked for a list.” Sirius looked away. “It’s not exactly a list, but I think–Well, I hope you like it.”

“Oh.” Remus looked down at the envelope for a moment, then began to pull it open.

Sirius made a choked noise. “Are you going to read it now?”

Remus froze, the flap of the envelope half up. “Is that alright?”

“No, yeah. That’s fine. That’s great.” Sirius ran his fingers through his hair. “You can read it whenever you want.”

“I don’t have to read it now if you don’t want.” Remus pushed the flap closed again. “I can give it back if you’d rather I didn’t read it at all.”

“No, go ahead.” Sirius stood up, feeling suddenly like he couldn’t breathe in the small room. “I think–I’m going to go. See James. I’ll be back later, but you–you read that.”

Sirius walked out the door without a backwards look and apparated straight to Godric’s Hollow. He walked in without knocking, finding James sitting with Lily’s legs draped over his on their couch. They looked up when he walked in.

“I need to run. Can we run?”

James set Lily’s legs on the floor, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he stood up. “Are we running, or are we running?”

“Padfoot and Prongs.” Sirius could feel himself bouncing with nervous energy. “I need to run.”

James walked to the door. “Let’s go, then.”

The nice thing about Godric's Hollow is that it butted right against a small wooded area, and James and Sirius could transform right at the edge of the yard.

They ran.

They ran until Sirius couldn't feel anything, wasn't thinking about anything except for the way the forest floor felt under his paws and the wind felt in his fur. All the questions and uncertainty fell away in Padfoot’s mind. He didn’t have the capacity to worry about Remus. All Padfoot could think was run fast.

The nice thing about going with James is that he didn’t press Sirius to talk about it. He could feel James's eyes on him as they shifted back, waiting for Sirius to bring it up, but he didn't press when Sirius wished him good night at the back door.

Unfortunately, all the calm he found in Padfoot fell away as he apparated home. Sirius stood in front of his flat door, staring at it and unable to open it. Remus had the letter. Remus had the letter that laid out every good thing that Sirius had ever felt about him.

It was fine. So Remus knew, now. Really knew. It was fine, and Sirius would go in there, and he would deal with whatever Remus’s reaction was. Probably, he wouldn’t believe it.

Sirius pushed the door open, and Remus looked up from where he was sitting on the couch. He looked like he hadn’t moved since Sirius left, with the pages of his letter strewn across his legs. Remus looked up, catching his eyes, and Sirius couldn’t begin to explain the churning of emotions that he saw in Remus’s eyes.

Sirius closed the door and leaned against it. “You read it.”

“A few times.” Remus begins sorting the pages. “Did you mean it?”

“Every word.” Answering feels like it is pulling something out of Sirius, like he’s giving some part of himself up, but he can’t deny Remus this answer.

“I don’t understand. I’m not all of these things.” He looks down at the pages again, like maybe the answer to his confusion is somewhere within between the lines of black ink.

“You are, though.” Sirius doesn’t move closer, because he doesn’t trust himself to stay away. “To me, you are all of that.”

Remus stacked the papers together and set them in his lap, crossing an arm over his chest and chewing on his thumbnail. Sirius waited, wondering what reaction Remus would have. When he looked up again, his expression was blank, and Sirius got nothing from him.

“Thank you.”

Sirius looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Thank me?”

“For writing it. I didn’t honestly think you would.” Remus tucked a stray curl behind his ear.

“Of course I did.” Sirius finally took a few more steps into the apartment, taking off his shoes by the door. “I told you I would.”

Remus spoke from somewhere behind him. “No, you said you’d think about it. I thought you had just wanted to drop it.”

“Oh, I meant I wanted to think over the list. Like what to include.” He placed his shoes on the mat.

“Oh.” He could hear the blush in Remus’s cheeks before he turned around to see it. Remus wasn’t looking at him, and he was caught up in the way the blush decorated his cheeks. “Well, thank you. I, um. I think I’m going to go to bed. Unless you wanted to…”

Remus let his voice trail off, and Sirius feels like there was something more in that question than what he was prepared to answer. “Goodnight, Remus.”

“Right. Goodnight.”

***

Sirius was bouncing on his feet as Healer Donohue, the head healer, looked through Colin’s tests and records. It was good. It looked really good–far better than they had ever expected Colin to look again. The plant that Sirius had found–the potion that he had brewed with it–seem to have worked. Colin was healed, or close enough to it that he could finish the treatment at home until the last lingering touch of the curse in his body was gone. He just needed Healer Donohue to sign off on it.

“Everything looks in order.” He closed the file, running his fingers across Colin’s curse marks once more. “The potion has worked far better than we expected it to, and I think it’s time for you to go home. Congratulations.” He handed the file to Sirius. “Good work, Black. Finish the discharge?”

“Yes, sir.” Sirius nodded as Donohue headed out. When the door closed behind him, Colin and his mum erupted in cheers that put a wide smile on Sirius’s face. “Well, what do you think of that, Colin?”

“I get to go home!” He jumped on top of his bed and launched himself at Sirius, who barely managed to catch him without falling. Sirius laughed and set him back on the bed. “I get to go home, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“It was my pleasure, Colin.”

His mum grabbed Sirius’s arms and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me my child back. I never thought it was possible.”

Sirius couldn’t help the fact that he was a little misty-eyed for the rest of the discharge.

***

Sirius couldn’t sit when he got home. Colin was home and well, and that called for a celebration. He drug Remus, James, Lily, and Peter to a new pub, one that had drink specials and a dance floor, and he let himself enjoy it. He was out with his best friends, his patient was recovering, Remus was home.

Remus was home, and when he pulled Remus onto the dance floor, despite his protest, he let himself feel at home, finally, with Remus.

Peter left first, claiming he had an early work meeting the next day. Lily led James off the dance floor with the whispered promise of something he could find at home that he couldn’t find in the beat of a song. Remus stayed, and Sirius couldn’t find it in him to end the night early.

“Another drink?” Sirius asked.

Remus smiled. “Absolutely.”

Sirius ordered them shots with beer chasers, and after downing them quickly, he pulled Remus back to the dance floor. He made no protest this time, and let Sirius wrap his arms around his waist. They danced, pressed close together, and the air was hot between them. Remus’s lips were inches away from his. He could tilt his head down just a bit, or Remus could look up at him again, and their lips would touch. Sirius couldn’t bring himself to do it.

After a few songs, they broke apart and headed for the bar again. One shot each, and then they stumbled back to the dance floor. Remus pulled him closer this time, and they moved in perfect rhythm to the song. For a moment, in the middle of a song, their eyes met, and Sirius thought that Remus might kiss him.

He didn't.

"Let's get another drink." Remus didn't let go of his hand as they made their way to the bar. This is a bad idea, Sirius thought, but he swallowed the shot Remus passed him and followed him back to the dance floor.

Sirius could feel the alcohol running through his blood, pushing him toward Remus. There was no longer air between them, and instead they were pressed flush together. Sirius could see the way Remus flushed in the dim lights, and he wanted to taste his freckles.

Sirius should stop; he knew he should. He just didn't want to.

Eventually, they stumbled out of the pub, and too drunk to apparate, decided to walk home. (It was several minutes before Sirius remembered Remus couldn't apparate and that might have explained his request to walk home.)

Sirius shivered, and found Remus's arm around his shoulder. Remus stumbled, and Sirius grabbed his hand to steady him. They made it home and up the stairs, laughing over how difficult they were to navigate in their current state.

Sirius went to unlock the door, and Remus stumbled into him just as it opened. They nearly fell into a pile on the floor, but caught themselves just in time. When they righted themselves again, they were kissing.

Sirius honestly wasn't sure who started it, but it didn't matter. Remus's lips slotted against his, tasting like tequila and lime and something so inherently Remus, and Sirius couldn't be arsed to care who started it. Remus found the hem of Sirius's shirt, and the cold tips of his fingers against Sirius's skin shocked Sirius back into what they were doing.

“Remus–”

“No, Sirius.” Remus pulled Sirius closer by the collar of his shirt, pressing their foreheads together. “I want this.”

“I can’t– Remus.”

“Please, Sirius.” Remus kissed him again, and Sirius didn’t stop him. “I’ve never been with someone just because I wanted to. Please? If you still want me too.”

“I’ll always want you, Remus. Until the day I die.”

Sirius pushed him into the wall and kissed him, fiercely. Perhaps it was a mistake, but Sirius pushed every thought and every feeling he’d felt for Remus for the last several years through the kiss. By the way Remus gasped, Sirius thought he might have understood.

Sirius broke the kiss and sank to his knees, pushing Remus against the wall. Sirius popped the button and slid his trousers and pants down to his knees as Remus threaded his fingers into Sirius’s hair. Sirius wrapped his hand around Remus, feeling the weight of him in his hand and then on his tongue as he swallowed him down.

It was everything and nothing like what Sirius had imagined in all of those years he’d pictured finally getting to taste Remus. Remus kept a firm but passive hand in his hair, and Sirius lost himself in the feeling of it.

When Remus came, it was with Sirius’s name on his lips, and Sirius swallowed down every drop. Remus pulled him to stand again, pulling him into a kiss that tasted of come and tequila.

“Your turn.” Remus gripped his bulge through the front of his trousers.

Sirius took a step back. “No.”

Remus leaned against the wall, flushed cheeks and softening cock, and looked at Sirius with a million emotions in his eyes. “What?”

“No, Remus. It’s not my turn.” Sirius took another step away, and it felt like he was leaving himself on the floor at Remus’s feet.

“It’s alright, Sirius. I want to make you feel good too.”

Sirius shook his head. “I can’t, Remus. Not while– you don’t owe me anything, Remus.”

“But you just– I want to return the favor.” Remus licked his lips, and Sirius nearly closed the distance. “I know it’s not an obligation, Sirius.”

“It still feels like it.” Using all the remaining willpower he had, Sirius turned and walked back to his bedroom. “Good night, Remus.” Without looking back, he shut his bedroom door.

#what we do to get by #wwdtgb #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #what if the prank ended differently?#snitchwrites

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sebastianwallows · 1 year

Note

i’m a sucker for angst and i was hit with an wonderful awful idea but it’s pretty long so completely get if you don’t want to write it! i really just had to share cause it’s good!

It’s Sebastian x reader/MC, where MC has finally found a solution for Anne, but it has to be transferred to someone. MC decides to take the curse for herself for what’s probably a number of reasons that include but aren’t limited to: 1. She’s a self-sacrificing idiot, 2. She thinks she’s Built Different and can handle the curse thanks to Ancient Magic, 3. Severely underestimate how many and how much people actually care about her, etc. So she sends Sebastian a letter saying she found a cure for Anne and that she sent it with the owl (it’s a placebo potion) and that Anne should start to feel better in a few days. And magically Anne is cured and can come back to Hogwarts and Sebastian is ecstatic.

MC can handle the curse okay for a few months, but eventually gets too weak and tired to try to put up a good excuse as to why she’s acting odd, so she ends up telling the faculty in a few words that doesn’t fully explain that she transferred a curse to herself but is close enough. Prof Weasley is kind enough to offer for MC to stay at her place since she used to be a curse-breaker and with MC in close proximity, they can work on breaking the curse together. MC’s friends are given a very flimsy but kind of believable excuse as to why she had to leave the school early. Sebastian doesn’t believe the excuse and probably thinks MC was kidnapped (or something) so he starts trying to figure out where MC is and, after a couple months, figures out MC is with Prof Weasley. (Completely debatable if Prof Weasley ACTUALLY dropped hints to where MC was cause Sebastian probably was like a sad wet cat without her and it was just pitiful LOL)

He goes over to Prof Weasley’s house and MC answers the door, thinking it’s a potion delivery or something, looking awful like she just crawled out of the 9 rings of hell or something. And they just stare at each other, before MC invites him in. MC makes tea while they have a very awkward small-talk conversation, with MC avoiding any question that addressed her situation with the curse. Their conversation eventually culminates in an argument, but ends as quickly as it began when MC has an “attack” and collapses in severe pain. Sebastian finally puts 2 and 2 together and realizes the “cure” MC sent all those months ago wasn’t real and that she instead took on the curse herself and hid it from everyone as to not worry them. MC directs him to open a chest and give her one of the bottled potions, which she quickly downs. She then explains the situation, how Prof Weasley is helping to find a cure and that Prof Sharp provides a potion that can’t take away the attacks, but makes it “bearable” enough so she can talk. MC and Sebastian share a very tender and soft but angsty moment where he’s upset she’s a self-sacrificing idiot and how much she means to him, while she believes Anne, his twin, is much more important than her, some girl he just met. MC then breaks the unfortunate news that she’s getting very tired and very weak from the curse and that she’s thinking of just trying to live comfortably until it eventually takes her, and obviously Sebastian puts up a whole fuss cause he’s back where he started with Anne only this time it’s not Anne but with the girl he’s in love with, but MC makes him promise to not engage in any Dark Arts to find a cure. He agrees, and they just spend time together after that. MC can’t move after her “attack” so he carries her to a couch so they can be more comfortable, and she ends up falling asleep on his shoulder with him promising that he’ll spend as much time with her as possible and that he will find a cure.

The “true” ending however, is fairly open ended imo. It could end in 2 ways: 1. Sebastian manages to find a cure and MC lives or 2. MC dies and it’s Sebastian at her funeral.

Either way, that’s the end of it! Like I said, SUPER SUPER angst filled and VERY long, but you don’t have to write it if it’s too long or detailed! I really just wanted to share the scenario I came up with! ^^

Wow! That's an incredible idea anon. It would make a great fully fleshed out fic.

It would be the perfect angsty-romantic story and especially imagining if the ending would be good or bad because it could go really super devastating 😭😭

#anon #this is such a good idea!!

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yandere-dandelion · 2 years

Note

Hi, can you do one where yandere izuku and bully reader are in UA and in the same class and he kidnaps bully reader, please ?

Cherry Wine II: the Whining. Yandere Deku x Bully Reader

I have no idea why I chose this title. There are more than two fics in the Cherry Wine universe.

Anyway, I could have gone several different directions with this, but I thought this one would be the most fun, and I was right because this was a blast. Unfortunately Tumblr deleted like half of it while I was working on it which was very frustrating, but finally, here it is!

Gender-neutral reader, talking about sex but no actual nsfw.

Also it gets a little bit weird

TWs: yandere, stalking, drugging, abuse. The abuse is talked about a lot, but it’s left up to interpretation whether it actually happened, and it’s not described graphically at all.

Now, without further ado, let’s begin!

———

As much as Izuku loves when you bully him, he’s worried about you.

There has to be a reason you’re so mean. Is it because someone is hurting you? Is everything okay at home? The injuries you get can’t all be from the fights you get into or the training you do.

He’s going to make sure you’re okay.

The best way of doing that, of course, is kidnapping you!

Your quirk is powerful, but it’s no match for One for All… or the quirk suppressant cuffs he puts on you. Still, you struggle until he injects you with a sedative, “so he doesn’t have to hurt you.”

You expect to wake up in a cold, dark basement, tied to a chair or something.

That’s not what happens.

In reality, you wake up in a cozy, warm bed, wrapped in blankets and handcuffed to the bedpost. You can hear two people speaking— one is Deku, but the other is unfamiliar. It’s probably his mother, though, because no other woman would ever want to talk to him.

“That’s my partner, their name is Y/n,” he says, his high pitched voice aggravating your fierce headache.

Partner? Like, for a project? You must’ve missed the assignment. That makes sense, considering you never pay attention in class.

But that doesn’t explain why there’s quirk-suppressing cuffs on your wrists.

Everything is blurry, but you catch a glimpse of Deku and his mom talking in the hallway, just outside the door.

The room you’re in is stuffed full of All Might merch— must be Deku’s, the weirdo is completely obsessed with the guy.

“The Y/n who bullied you?” Ms Midoriya’s tone is low and dangerous, and carries a promise of pain to anyone who would hurt her son. How the hell could a pushover like Deku be related to someone like her? “Izuku, did you kidnap them for revenge or something? I told you to stop doing that! You nearly got arrested after Katsuki—“

“Well, yes, they did beat me up, and steal my stuff, and call me names, but I didn’t kidnap them for revenge! I saved them! There was a reason they acted like that, they have stuff going on at home!”

“No I fucking don’t!” You try to shout, but your voice is slurred. Whatever drug Deku gave you must still be in your system.

Both Midoriyas ignore you. “Izuku, do you mean someone was abusing them?”

“I think so, yeah. They’re always covered in bruises, and I’ve never seen them happy, just angry.”

“The bruises are from hero training, dumbass!” You say, your voice a little louder, a little clearer. Again, though, you’re ignored.

“They’re always making flimsy excuses, but I see right through them.”

When Ms. Midoriya speaks again, the dangerous tone from before is completely gone. “That’s terrible! You did the right thing, bringing them here. Now we can keep them safe and cared for!”

What the fuck?

You always knew Deku had a few loose screws, but now his mom’s nuts, too?

“Izuku, why don’t you keep them company while I get them some food and water? They’re probably starving.”

“Thanks, mom, but I don’t want to give them too much. I can handle them if they put up a fight.”

You hate to admit it, but he’s right. Any other day, you would’ve protested, but right now your limbs feel like lead and your head is pounding. You doubt you could hold your own against a slug, let alone another person.

All you can do is lay there as Deku walks in.

“Hey, sunshine! Sorry about drugging you, it’s just that you could’ve hurt me or yourself, and you were making so much noise, and if anyone saw us they might have tried to take you from me, and it seemed like you needed the sleep anyway.”

“Deku.” Your voice is too quiet.

“Oh no, that came out wrong, I’m sorry, it’s just that I’d noticed that you weren’t sleeping very well when I visited you at night, but hopefully you slept well this time.”

You try again. “Deku?”

“Actually, I know you slept well because I was watching you the entire time you were asleep. Wait, that sounded creepy!”

“Deku!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it, you’re just so beautiful I couldn’t stop looking and before I knew it, hours had passed, and I had to make sure you didn’t have a bad reaction to the drug, because I would never forgive myself if you—“

“DEKU!”

Your shout jolts him from his thoughts. Sheepishly, Deku rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I know you hate when I rant like that. I’ve been trying my best to change the aspects of myself you don’t like and—“

“DEKU, LEMME THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!” You shout, tugging at the restraints.

“I’m sorry, puppy, I can’t do that. I can’t let you go back there. I know you don’t want to admit it, but you’re being abused. I can tell those bruises aren’t from hero training.”

Did he just call you puppy?

“I was going to wait a while before kidnapping you, but when I figured out that you were being abused, I couldn’t just let them hurt you. It’s not what a good hero would do.” His voice softens. “It’s not what a good boyfriend would do.”

Did he just say BOYFRIEND?

“You’re not my fuckin’ boyfriend!”

Deku just laughs. “See, this is why I love you, you’re so funny! Always making those jokes about how you hate me and I’m not your boyfriend. You always make me laugh, and I love that about you!”

“You’re delusional! I always knew you were weird, but I didn’t think you were crazy!”

He looks legitimately hurt at that. “Please don’t call me crazy or delusional, puppy. As long as it comes from you, I’m fine with being called stupid, or useless, or worthless, but I don’t like being called crazy.”

“Okay. You’re bonkers. Nuts. Insane. Out of your m—“

In the blink of an eye, he’s on top of you, straddling your thighs and pressing down on your throat with one hand, leaving you gasping for air. In his other hand— holy shit, he’s got a knife.

“I don’t want to hurt you, puppy, but if you keep calling me things like that, I—“

“MIDORIYA IZUKU!” His mom shouts.

Thank god, maybe she’ll realize what’s really going on and let you out!

Deku clambers off of you, blushing. “Mom, it’s not what it looks like!”

“I thought I told you to wait until marriage!” She scolds.

Wait, what?

“We weren’t going to have sex!” You and Deku exclaim in unison.

Well, you said something more like “we weren’ gnna have shex,” but you got the point across well enough.

“Suuure. I came to tell you that the food is ready, but clearly you wanted something else to eat. A man should never let his sweetheart go hungry, Izuku!”

Deku looks down, chastised. “We weren’t going to have sex, we—“

“He was threatening me with a knife!” You shout.

Ms Midoriya relaxes, and chuckles. “Oh. That’s fine, then. I brought some leftover katsudon, we can take turns feeding them.”

Izuku smiles brightly. “Yes! Can I go first?”

“Let them have some water, first. Can you sit up for me, Y/n-chan?”

“Fuck no! You’re both—“

Izuku’s eyes flash and you quickly shut your mouth.

His mother frowns. “I know you might be a little disoriented, but that’s no excuse to be rude. I’ll forgive you just this once, but next time I won’t be so nice.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

She smiles, the anger from before evaporated. “It’s okay! Now, are you going to sit up, or will I have to make you?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before wrapping her arms around you to pull you upright. “Izuku, can you—“

“On it!” Deku takes a swig from the water bottle before pressing it to your lips, smirking as he does. Slimy bastard. You stubbornly keep your mouth shut, so Deku holds your nose shut until you have no choice but to open your mouth. When you gasp for air, he quickly pours the water in, and laughs as you choke and splutter.

He laughs even harder when you spit the water out on him, even as his mother gasps and scolds you. When he tries again, he covers your mouth so you can’t do anything but swallow.

Finally, the water bottle is empty. The front of your shirt is soaked and— wait, that’s not your shirt, you’re wearing one of Deku’s dumb shirts. Did he change you while you were asleep? Oh god, what did he do? He’s looking at you with a strange look in his eyes, and it makes your skin crawl.

Deku and his mom take turns force-feeding you, using the same technique Deku had used to get you to drink, and praising you for every bite.

When that’s done, Ms Midoriya— she’s told you to call her Inko, or mom, but you’re not going to do that— claps her hands. “Now, we’re going to lay down some ground rules for you, because you’re going to be here for a long, long time.”

#yandere bnha #yandere deku #yandere #tw yandere #my writing

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schraubd · 1 year

Text

Can We Convince Elon Musk To Declare Victory and Go Home?

It is clear, even to Elon Musk (one has to think), that Musk's acquisition of Twitter has been a disaster.

It is equally clear that Musk is far too much of a narcissistic egomaniac to ever admit it.

And while it would be nice to leave Twitter outright and hit greener pastures, the current main alternatives to Twitter -- sites like Mastodon or Post -- are not even close to primetime ready. The ideal outcome is Twitter being put back in the hands of the at least semi-reasonable before the site detonates outright.

What Musk needs is an off-ramp -- some way for him to get out of Twitter while still claiming it as a victory.

To be clear: No reasonable observer has to actually think Musk has accomplished anything or that this excuse be anything but a flimsy façade. Much like the US and Vietnam, every rational human will understand it as pure political dissembling -- "saving face" here means only an excuse that will satisfy Musk's most sycophantic fanboys. Fortunately, that cadre is the only group Musk seems to listen to anyway.

He's never going to be unload it for a profit -- that's out. But is there some other narrative he could spin ("It was never about the money!") where he retroactively will have "accomplished what he set out to accomplish" and can leave while saving face? Maybe he can say the "Twitter Files" exposed the dirty heart of old Twitter but now he's successfully cleaned house. Maybe he can triple down on the random staffers he's thrown under the bus as the "real problem" and now that they're gone, all is well (none of us have to believe it; again, this is all about spinning a yarn that will successfully soothe a narcissistic manchild who can't possibly admit he screwed everything up).

I don't know. It's weird to try to come up with "pathetic lie for Elon Musk to tell himself so he leaves the rest of us alone." But that's the best exit strategy we have right now, I think. Suggestions welcome.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/oP7Ubw8

#discourse #social media #technology

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skye-huntress · 1 year

Text

The Witch from Mercury Reaction

Episode 9: “If I Could Take One Step Toward You”

I have finally figured out how to do the “read more” thing on mobile. I admit, I am pretty self-conscious about more very long posts and how much some people have to scroll past. I’ll leave the first few bullet points up just to give a sense of how I do my own reactions, because I know others have different ways of doing things, and maybe potential readers have their own preferences.

We’re having a flashback now? Even I can tell that was a pretty flimsy excuse from Shaddiq. Maybe he was worried if he defeated Guel for Holder status he would lose Miorine’s respect. Well, with his latest stunt, he already has, but perhaps he’s already given up on Miorine ever seeing him how he wants her to see him.

Despite the amount of pressure he’s putting on Miorine, he’s still trying to be very compromising, to meet her halfway. Unfortunately, Miorine never wanted to involve him in the first place and his actions are only provoking her. Even if he wanted to avoid it and give her an out, the duel challenge was inevitable the moment he interfered.

Seems this is less a challenge between two students, and more a challenge between Earth House and Grassley House. And of course as in previous duels, the Duelling Committee has gone out of the way to stack the odds in their favour.

The website says Lilique is popular with the male students, which if true is not only awesome for a number of reasons, but also might explain the unprovoked hostility from that other girl.

When they talked about needing more pilots for support, we all thought of Guel. But would he actually? He cared enough about Suletta to challenge “Elan” before, but that just made his own situation even worse. That said, what else does he have to lose at this point? He might still have his tuition, for now, but he’s not going to get back in his father’s good graces while camping out in the woods, he’s better off thinking about what he can do for himself.

My read is that Shaddiq is being somewhat genuine, that he respects Miorine as her own person and doesn’t see her as an ornament. The problem is Miorine does not believe him, and why should she? Even putting aside how her cynicism and resentment towards the Benerit Group has developed over the years, if she still had an ounce of trust or respect for Shaddiq, we destroyed it when he interfered with her life. He cemented his status as her enemy.

This is the first time that Suletta has ever referred to Miorine as her bride, and she did so to say that she believes in her Mio-Mio. I’m so proud.

And that is when Shaddiq turns into a petty asshole, saying he’ll take Aerial and Miorine from her. Talk like that is what signals to me he is about to lose.

I should have figured Peil wouldn’t give Miorine the Pharact. It’d be too easy for Earth House to figure out that they never improve the suit technology to protect the pilots so they’d be the ones exposed for violating the bioethics of pilots, not to mention the questions about Elan Ceres. But they are using Belmeria Winston as a go-between likely to learn the secrets of Aerial.

Speaking of “go-betweens”, Nika. She seems as fed up with Shaddiq’s scheming as Miorine, however, I’m still concerned with what she’s already told or done for him, and what she got in return.

Anyway, to the duel. We have quite the cast from Grassley House, but the only one that stuck out to me was Renee. Seriously, she’s upset her 12th back-up boyfriend asked Lilique out, and he didn’t even get the date. She’s really telling on herself when despite her popularity, she needs a list of more than a dozen guys to ask out. It means she has enough awareness to know she is so toxic that none of her relationships will last.

As predictable, despite the fancy new suits from Peil Tech, the non-pilots from Earth House went down very quickly, leaving Suletta and Aerial to get overwhelmed very early into the battle. Meanwhile Shaddiq immediately went after the only other actual pilot, the only one who could offer reliable support. And with the rest of the team down, they can gang up on the real target. In one-on-one, Aerial can’t be beaten, and even with anti-GUND tech, there was no guarantee Shaddiq would be able to successfully deploy it and much less finish the fight before Suletta could turn the tables. That’s why he stacked the deck, relying on having a larger number of experienced pilots.

Prospera was looking so expressionless, even when Aerial was hit by the anti-GUND weapons. She’s seen the weapon first-hand so she knew it would eventually be used against Aerial, but even if she thought she found a work-around, she wouldn’t have anyway of actually testing it. I think this was the first time she wasn’t sure what the outcome would be and that she was actually afraid for Aerial.

This is a defining moment for Suletta as a pilot. This is the first time she could not rely on Aerial, even though she was still piloting her. It’s one thing when she’s out of the cock-pit, or in another mobile suit. It’s another matter entirely when it’s only her piloting skills that are preventing Aerial from being blown apart. And who knows what having her head blown off will do to Aerial herself. I’ll get back to how this might change Suletta in a bit.

We might get clarification of this later, but it seems while the weapon did momentarily suppress Aerial for a while, it was either a temporary effect that Aerial was able to overcome, or maybe it was like put Aerial to sleep and Suletta’s words helped to wake her up. Whatever the case, Grassley House were not prepared for the sudden comeback, and with Suletta contributing more to the fight leaving Aerial’s GUND-bits to provide her support, she was able to take half the team out.

Still not quite enough for Suletta to beat Shaddiq on her own. If it were one-on-one, she probably would have managed. Still, I like it this way, Shaddiq set himself up for failure because he completely underestimated Earth House. Grassley took out the rest of the team and ignore them, but they never fully disabled Chuchu’s demi-trainer and there’s no rules saying that Earth House couldn’t support their team in other ways. Earth House may not have as many pilots or fancy mobile suits, but what they lack compared to the major Houses, they make up for in their tenacity and their ability to improvise with what little they have to work with. This wasn’t Aerial once again annihilating her opponent like previous duels, this was Earth House proving that are not to be underestimated.

Now I have to remind myself that per Miorine’s request, the duel was live-streamed outside of the Benerit Group, meaning the rest of the solar system has the pleasure of viewing Suletta’s awkward little Gundam dance live. My hat is off to you, my fellow socially-awkward geek! It’s great for Miorine’s company to get some attention and support from outside the Group.

Finally, GUND-ARM, Inc. is officially started. It might have been a pain, and it was a close call towards the end, but the livestream might be worth the drama

As for Suletta, not really in a celebratory mood. She didn’t lose, but she came so close that this was a huge wake-up call for her. Even though Aerial can still be repaired, this is probably the worst she has ever been “hurt”, and Suletta has come to the conclusion it was because she relies too much on Aerial rather than focus on improving herself. How many times has she said that Aerial is the one who is special, yet when Aerial needed her to step up for a change, her own skill were lacking.

So that’s two important developments for Suletta. The first is finally acknowledging and accepting that she is engaged to Miorine and that they are facing the future together as partners. The second is the acknowledgement that as a pilot she needs to improve for the sake of Aerial, Miorine and herself.

Finally, Shaddiq has come to accept that he screwed up, not just with the duel, but long ago. If he stepped up before, challenged Guel, became Miorine’s groom instead, maybe he could have won her affections as Suletta has. There was no guarantee of course, and part of why Miorine likes Suletta is because of how earnest she is. There’s no schemes or ulterior motives with the girl from Mercury, she’s someone that Miorine actually can trust, with her life as well as her heart.

#the witch from mercury #g witch #g witch spoilers

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sapphicdarkficsrus · 2 years

Text

A Place Of Her Own

Warnings (18+ only): smut, mind control, coercion, dub-con, oral sex, collars+leashes, strap-ons

Summary: Wanda takes a different path towards getting what she wants from America Chavez, leading her to her sons, a new home, and you.

Wanda strode quickly down the street. Dreamwalking was…less than ideal due to how little time she could safely spend doing it, but more importantly she didn’t want to be leaving this universe’s Billy and Tommy alone for too long. A distressing number of universes had her as a single mother, and this one was one of them. Ideal in some ways (the last thing she needed was Vis asking difficult questions) but it meant worrying about her boys. Still, this opportunity was too good to pass up. America had landed in her neighborhood this time. No dangerous treks across a continent or country necessary. Not that there was much that could actually pose a threat to her, but no need to take undue risks with a body that wasn’t hers.

That was what she kept telling herself. Her very first thought upon discovering the Multiverse Traveler was to conjure and compel demons to hunt down the girl. It wasn’t like the girl could control her powers, and they presented a big risk. In theory it was for the greater good. But that was a flimsy justification, even to her own ears. Every time she thought about it, she also thought about Vis’ pain and dismay at her actions during the Hex. And that had been an accident, with her convinced everyone was happy and content with their new lives. Murdering a teenager girl was…a big leap from that.

But watching the girl had given her insight, and now Wanda was prepared to offer her an actual deal. “Excuse me!” She called out, waving her hand when America turned to look at her, the girl’s expression confused. “America Chavez, right?” The girl blinked rapidly, her expression growing a little wary but still primarily confused. “I’m Wanda Maximoff. Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of you.” America confirmed with a nod. “How do you know me?”

“I’m from another universe as well.” America’s eyes widened, but Wanda had to hurry to explain. “Not like you. I’m a witch, I’m currently possessing the body of this universe’s version of me. It’s a long story. I…” She bit her lip nervously, gesturing. “My family died, in my universe. I lost my sons. I was hoping that you could help me…find other versions of them. In an infinite multiverse I assume there’s a universe where I died but they didn’t.” America winced.

“I’m sorry, I don’t actually know how to use my powers…”

“I think you do, actually. Or, more accurately, that your subconscious does.” Wanda interrupted. “I’ve been watching you. Not spying!” She added hastily. “I don’t have audio and I never watch very long. I just noticed you when I was looking through the multiverse and you caught my attention. But my point is…you keep showing up in universes where food is free, usually in civilized areas, and where you can speak at least one language that everyone else speaks. You never get dropped in any universe where you can’t breathe, or where there’s a zombie apocalypse or dinosaurs, where the ice age never ended or global warming destroyed the Earth..” America blinked a few times, and Wanda had the feeling it hadn’t occurred to the girl. “I mean, this time you landed in the same suburb as an, admittedly retired, Avenger.” She pointed out, gesturing at her borrowed body. “I don’t know the source of your powers, but I believe that there’s something in your mind that knows what universes are what. An encyclopedia, if you will.”

America frowned thoughtfully. “But…you found me. Why do you need me?” Wanda nodded.

“A few reasons. One, I was able to find you because you’re a blunt instrument. You literally punch holes in the multiverse. It’s not particularly hard to track you. Secondly, I have extremely specific abilities. If it’s not something especially obvious, like your traveling, the only thing I can find is me. I’m looking for a universe where I’m dead, which makes things a little trickier. And thirdly, I can’t actually travel between universes physically. I can only project my consciousness. Which, again, makes things tricky given my goals.” She looked at America to make sure the girl was following all of this. “But, if you allow me to help you, I think I can teach you how to control your powers, how to find and select specific universes. “

“How would you do that, exactly?” America asked suspiciously. Wanda gave a sheepish look.

“I’m a telepath. I would project myself into your mind, and we’d do some…exploring, you and I. I wouldn’t be possessing you, more…guiding you through your own mindscape, to find the root of your powers.” America blinked a few times.

“...like a video game tutorial?”

“Not…unlike that.” Wanda conceded. “Also…I can provide you with something else on top of just making your powers easier to control. I think I can help you find your mothers.” America froze, and Wanda hurried to explain herself, twisting her hands nervously. “I didn’t mean to pry, You’re just very loud, psychically speaking. I’m afraid it’s actually hard to not listen to you on certain subjects and you think about and project them quite regularly. The minute I started talking about finding my boys, in fact.”

“You think you can help me find them?” America said numbly. Wanda nodded hurriedly.

“Yes. If we can use your powers to pinpoint specific universes, then I should be able to specifically search for them. They should stand out, because they won’t be native to whatever universe they’re in. They may even have some residue from your powers, though I can’t guarantee that.” America frowned, peering at her suspiciously.

“You really, really think I’m able to control my powers without realizing it?” She demanded.

“America, how many universes have you gone to?”

“...71? I think?” Wanda smiled kindly. “71 and you’ve never once appeared in a universe where you couldn’t breathe, or underwater, or 20 feet in the air? Yeah, I think I can help you. Would you like to start?”

“God yes.” America said quickly, eyes wide with youthful hope and optimism that Wanda hadn��t felt in years.

Two Months Later

You were sitting on the couch, watching Hercules with Tommy and Billy, when quite suddenly the door opened, seemingly unlocking and swinging open on itself as a woman walked through the doors. You stared in shock as Wanda stepped inside, the Avenger freezing when she saw her sons, tears welling up in her eyes. The dead Avenger. Killed in battle with some crazy witch with purple magic just a few years ago.

Except, maybe it wasn’t? You quickly stood up, hand going for a gun that wasn’t there. You never wore it in the house, especially when the boys were right beside you. Once upon a time you’d been a SHIELD agent, and when the agency had fallen apart you’d been given a job at the Avengers compound, as support staff. You’d become decent friends with Wanda, her go to babysitter even, so when she’d died you’d taken in the boys.

So you knew Wanda. And this…wasn’t Wanda. Or at least, not exactly. She was younger than she should have been, older than you still but not by as much. And there was something in her demeanor and eyes when she looked at her sons that felt…off.

Your suspicions grew more solid when she turned her attention to you and her expression grew upset and confused. “And who might you be?” She murmured. Hearing her voice solidified it. Her voice still carried a thick Sokovian accent, a trait you hadn’t heard from your Wanda since the boys were born. This was someone else. A Skrull maybe?

“Mom?” Tommy asked, voice weak and cracking. Both of the boys were staring at the intruder with a mixture of horror and hope. The not-Wanda looked back at them and nearly melted, which confused you even more. A Skrull wouldn’t so obviously love the boys.

“It’s me boys. I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.” The woman said, voice thick with emotion. So much you almost felt like you were intruding. Which was ridiculous, she was the one breaking into your home. But still. “But first, I need you two to sleep.” You let out a cry as both boys promptly curled up and passed out on the couch.

“What did you do to them?” You demanded, dropping to your knees and shaking first Billy and then Tommy.

“I just had them go to sleep.” Wanda said, sounding angry at the accusation as she shut and locked the door behind her before waving a hand. You were immediately lifted into the air, gripped by an invisible hand as Wanda considered you, tilting her head in a way that was all too familiar and all too Wanda.

She turned abruptly from you to consider the sleeping boys, stroking first Billy’s forehead and then Tommy’s. “I’m going to have to fix this universe.” She says absently, staring at your (her?) sons like they were her world. “Just some minor tweaks. Children shouldn’t lose their parents. I’ll twist everyone’s memories or your version of me’s death. I won’t erase her, the boys should still honor her. Maybe we were triplets? I always wanted a sister. And I think I’ll make a town. New, from scratch this time. Safer than living here, better than trapping them like fairy tale princesses.”

Wanda let out a brittle laugh and turned to you. “Vis always said I was too impulsive, not good at looking before I leapt. Like with you…I don’t actually know anything about you. Let’s take a look.” Her eyes glow a smoky red and you let out a sharp cry as you feel her intrude into your mind.

For a few minutes there’s nothing but Wanda as she casually rifles through your brain, treating your life like a particularly interesting book. Eventually she pulls back, and there’s a soft look on her face now. Wanda reaches up to stroke your cheek, considering. “You love them.” She murmurs. “The boys. You’re a good mom. I can tell they care about you too. They’re louder, easier to read. Don’t have to invade or dig deep.” She bites her lip.

“I was going to get rid of you.” She says with terrifying frankness, moving her hand to stroke your shoulders. “I was…so angry. But you’ve taken good care of my boys. And you were doing that before your me died. You were her friend.” She hums, and something…hungry enters her gaze. “Maybe…well, why can’t the boys have two mothers? You’re rather pretty after all, and it’s legal on this earth.” Wanda puts her thumb against your lips, and a combination of pressure and magic makes you open your mouth, allowing her to start playing with your tongue.

She waves her other hand, and your eyes fly open as your clothes vanish, leaving you naked and exposed to this strange Wanda’s hungry gaze. You try and fail to squirm and dodge as her free hand roams your body, groping and squeezing. She plays with your breasts, then your taut stomach, still toned from your days as an active agent of the Avengers. And finally your sex, which she strokes gently with a purr.

“Yes, that’s it. You’ll be my wife, Billy and Tommy’s stepmother.” She says firmly, nodding. Not stopping to ask you what you thought, if you wanted that. “We’re going to have such a good life together darling.” She promised, smirking wickedly. “I’ll take such good care of you.”

Then, quite suddenly, you were woken up by a tugging on the loop at the front of your collar and a gentle kiss to your lips. “Wake up sleepyhead.” A gentle, if heavily accented, voice purred. You blinked away the sleep from your eyes, coming face to face with your wife Wanda, who grinned, cupping your cheek. “It’s almost noon lazy bones.” She chuckled, staring down at you happily.

You stared up at her for a long moment, still reeling from the incredibly vivid nightmare. That was…much more specific and…coherent than you were used to. You stared long enough to worry her, and she started threading her fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp. “What’s wrong?” Wanda asked, concerned.

“I just had a…very vivid nightmare. You showed up, but you were…wrong, and aggressive…” You struggled to explain. You didn’t notice Wanda’s frown as you spoke, or the way the fingers stroking through your hair sparked red, or even the red glow her eyes took.

“Well, that’s odd. Maybe we shouldn’t have watched Invasion of the Body Snatchers last night.” She teased as your eyes briefly lost focus. You chuckle and nod, the dream already fading as you wake up more, details garbling and vanishing from your mind. Though that was only natural. You often had dreams that were vivid at first but then quickly faded. A blessing when it came to nightmares you supposed.

“Probably not.” You drawl. “50s horror is famous for being intense and traumatizing after all.”

“Well for someone so fragile and sensitive, I’m sure it is.” Wanda drawled right back, arching an eyebrow. Then she grinned and kissed you gently before springing out of the bed with an unfair amount of agility. “But I wasn’t kidding about you getting up.”

“Morning people.” You groaned in disgust.

“11:30 AM is barely morning darling. How were you ever in SHIELD?”

“Coffee. So much fucking coffee.” You groan, reluctantly getting out of bed. Getting dressed wasn’t too much of a hassle, fortunately. Just a pair of skinny jeans and a tight t-shirt that hugged your body, showing off your toned and athletic body. Some part of you didn’t remember liking such tight clothes, nor your current, borderline butch, style, let alone buying these clothes. But you didn’t worry about it, anymore than you worried about the fact that you couldn’t remember dating any women before Wanda.

You join Wanda and the boys in the kitchen, kissing your sons on the tops of their heads, then Wanda on the cheek. “What’s on the agenda today?” You ask brightly, grabbing an apple.

“Well, since it’s summer vacation, I thought we could go to the zoo!” Wanda said brightly. Billy and Tommy cheered, and you blinked for a moment. You didn’t…remember Northview having a zoo. It was just a small town in Eastern Oregon…wait…hadn’t you been living in Payson, Arizona?

Suddenly Wanda was behind you, massaging your shoulders and kissing the side of your head. “Are you alright darling?” She asked carefully, and you took a deep breath before blinking. Memories of the move from Payson to somewhere a little quieter and more out of the way slotted in, and you quickly nodded, forgetting why you’d even been bothered in the first place.

“Yeah, just need more coffee I think.” You said with a chuckle. Wanda laughed and refilled your cup with a wave of her hand, spanking you lightly with the other.

“Careful darling, or I’ll start to think you love the coffee more than me!” She said playfully. You chuckled again and turned to kiss her.

“I could never love anything more than you.” You said earnestly. At your words Wanda’s eyes went wide and her lip wobbled. You were worried she might cry when the boys broke in.

“Gross!” Billy shouted, dramatically covering his eyes.

“Get a room moms!” Tommy agreed, covering his own eyes. Wanda laughed lightly.

“Well, I was going to say we should leave for the zoo now, but if you’d rather I think your mama and I can ‘get a room’.” She teased. This was met with twin cries of denial from the twins, both bolting to their rooms to get dressed. You and Wanda laughed, and you pulled her in, nuzzling her.

“We’re pretty damn lucky.” You murmur, and Wanda smiled softly, stroking your cheek and nodding.

“Absolutely.” She agreed, before kissing you deeply for a few seconds. Then she pulled back and spanked you again. “Now eat breakfast missy. I’ve got to go put the finishing touches on the zoo.” She muttered that last part and you gave a slight frown as you grabbed the plate Wanda had already made for you.

“What was that?” You asked in confusion. Wanda laughed and waved a hand dismissively.

“Nothing darling.” You blinked, then nodded and moved on. Breakfast was calling.

Later That Day

The trip to the zoo had been a rousing success. For such a relatively small town, Northview had a surprisingly large and elaborate zoo, with a wide array of animals, all in well maintained, perfect looking enclosures. If it weren’t for the sign proclaiming the zoo to be as old as the town, you’d almost have suspected that Wanda had gotten Pepper to kick the town money to improve the zoo for the boys.

There were lions and tigers and a variety of bears (oh my!), but also an impressive reptile house, an equally impressive array of monkey habitats, rhinos, hippos, and more. The boys had quite literally needed to drag you away from the hyena habitat. They were your favorite, and zoos so rarely had them, you hadn’t wanted to stop. But the minute Wanda had mentioned there were penguins you’d lost the war, your sons far more interested in the ice birds than your laughing cat dogs.

The zoo had been a nice experience, but you were still glad when the doors shut and Wanda took the leash off your collar. You knew it was necessary, that it was part of dealing with Wanda’s anxiety after losing literally all of her blood family and Vision. Her therapist had even talked to you about it, about the necessity of letting Wanda lead you on the leash as well as how to stay firm in your own boundaries. Obviously you walked upright, this was about Wanda’s need to keep you close and in sight, a safety blanket rather than a kink thing. But there were also firm rules about its length, how frequently and how hard she was allowed to tug, and other small things that ensured you were both comfortable with the process.

There were runes stitched into your leash and collar of course, but Wanda had assured you that they were just there to keep people from noticing them. Invisibility charms, basically, with a bit extra to keep people from walking into the leash. She’d promised over and over that she didn’t toy with people’s minds, and you believed her. The collar itself served as a large, constantly visible engagement ring, more or less. Something for Wanda to be able to readily look at and remember that you loved her and were with her. You suspected it also helped Wanda notice when your emotional state was going down, as you’d occasionally noticed it would light up when you were getting upset and then Wanda would get particularly touch happy. But that wasn’t exactly something you could be upset by.

“You think too much.” Wanda teased as you washed the dishes from dinner, making you jump. You’d gotten lost in thoughts about the day and about your leash and collar, and missed her coming down from putting the boys to bed.

“Maybe a little.” You conceded.

“Clearly I need to tire you out a little.” Wanda purred, her tone compounding the heaviness of her accent to make you shiver. She twisted her fingers so that a leash of pure magic formed, her other hand waving to make the dishes start washing, drying, and putting away themselves. You blushed as she tugged on the leash, but followed her up the stairs anyway. You don’t see much point in denying Wanda when she’s in a mood, and it’s not like you don’t want this. She’s your wife, you love her and you love doing just about everything with her. And sex certainly fell under the category of ‘everything’.

The minute you stepped into the bedroom the magic leash leapt from Wanda’s hand to attach the headboard, and she turned to smirk at you, waving a hand to make your clothes vanish. You yelped, pouting at her. “Was that really necessary?” You demand. Wanda shrugged, cat-like.

“I suppose not. It was fun though.” She said with a smirk. “And are you really going to be upset by how much I love to look at you?” That made you blush.

“I guess not.” You admit bashfully, giving her a sheepish grin. Then you raise an eyebrow. “But I do think it’s your turn now.” Wanda raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

“Yes, it is my turn I suppose.” She twitches her hand, and the strap-on you two use, thick and curiously bumpy, red as her corset, appears around her body, harness strapped on over her clothing.

“...that wasn’t what I meant and you know it.” You grumble, pouting. Wanda chuckles and a full wave of her hand makes her clothes disappear.

“I’m sorry darling, I couldn’t help it. And…” She grins and suddenly she’s in front of you, stroking your cheek before kissing the tip of your nose. “You’re just too adorable to not tease.” She chuckles before kissing you deeply, a kiss you return. Wanda pulls back, looking at you with wide, kind eyes. “I love you. So, so very much. You know that, don’t you darling?” You nod.

“I do. I really do.” You say earnestly. “And I love you too. I…hope I do a good job showing that.” Wanda softened, visibly, and nodded, slow but eager.

“You do darling. You do such a good job of it.” Her smile turned from soft and tender to wicked in an instant, and she snapped her fingers. In a literal blink of your eye you were suddenly lying on your back on the bed, and Wanda was on all fours over you. She smiled, her expression tender and predatory all at once, and surged down, latching onto your neck just above the collar and sucking hungrily.

“The boys are going to wonder why my neck is bruised.” You warn, voice breathy and ragged. Wanda snorted into your skin.

“I’ll get rid of them later.” She promised you, running her tongue up your neck and along your jaw. “Stop worrying so much.” A soft but unrelenting hand began gripping and squeezing at your breast as Wanda continued to lavish attention on your neck and jaw. “Mine.” She breathed, but there was a weakness underlying her words, less a declaration of dominance and more a quiet demand for validation. One you were willing to provide.

“Yours.” You agree rapidly, nodding as much as the leash and her mouth will allow.

“And I’m yours.” Wanda murmured against your cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to it before sliding down. “Though this…I think we could have a dispute about who this really belongs to.” She teases, pressing a gentle kiss to your labia that quickly turns into a very hungry lick.

You gasp and arch your back as she spears you with her tongue, the clever, flexible appendage slipping inside you with haste, finding your most sensitive spots with more ease than you think is really reasonable. You suspect Wanda uses her magic to cheat, but you haven’t bothered to ask because it feels far too amazing for you to actually care. It doesn’t really matter if she’s using magic to make her tongue longer and more flexible, or to make certain parts of you more sensitive to her tongue. All it matters is that it feels heavenly and you can’t get enough.

Wanda chuckles against your sex, amused by your reactions, but you can’t really bring yourself to care about the teasing noise. All you can think about is Wanda. About her tongue inside of you, or the way one strong hand rubs your stomach and lightly pins you while the other… “Goddess!” you cry out as she starts playing with your clit with her other hand. Wanda keeps eye contact with you, looking positively smug at your cry as she keeps working hard at you. “F…fuck…” you murmur weakly, squirming beneath her touch. It’s not the most intense of sensations, you know. Your wife is a witch, when she wants you overstimulated she can do the physically impossible. But whether due to her skill or your own innate nature, you’ve never stopped being incredibly sensitive to Wanda’s ministrations in the bedroom. It’s almost a problem, but Wanda likes you like this so you don’t ever think too hard about it.

“If you keep up like that I’m going to cum soon.” You whimper in warning. Wanda radiates amusement, and very much doesn’t stop or slow down. In fact, you think she might be putting even more effort and attention to your clit in response to your warning, which is just…unfair. Yes, you’re not a man, your orgasm isn’t going to end the sex. But that doesn’t mean she can just make you cum as much as she wants! Right?

The orgasm that rips through your body seconds after this occurs to you implies otherwise. You cry out, arching your back as you shake and shiver, moaning desperately as you come down. Wanda stretches your orgasm out as long as she can, tongue eagerly plundering your tight hole, savoring the way it spasms and tightens around her appendage. She doesn’t use magic though, and eventually she pulls back, smiling as she licks her lips.

“I think you must have some magic of your own darling.” She teases as she slides back up your body to line up her strap with your now over sensitive entrance. “There’s no other reason for you to taste so good.” You manage to blush at that, somehow flustered against all reason. There’s plenty of other reasons for you to be flustered and blushing, but no, it’s the compliment that does it.

“W…well, you were definitely cheating with your magic.” You manage to pant. “There’s no other way to explain your tongue being so amazing.” Wanda pouts.

“No other way darling? I can’t just love you that much?” You narrow your eyes at her, trying to gauge if she’s genuinely pouting or just trying to throw you off, and she laughs and leans down to you, capturing your lips with her own for a deep kiss. As she’s kissing you though, she suddenly thrusts, shoving her strap into your tight passage, and you cry out into her mouth. Wanda breaks the kiss, chuckling, and now it’s your turn to pout. Not that you can pout too much when Wanda’s putting her literal magic strap into you, but you give pouting through the pleasure your best shot. Wanda’s still chuckling at you, though the pleasure is starting to get to her too. The strap is magic, making her feel every bit of pleasure you get as if it were her own.

“Such a good girl.” She husks, eyes flashing red and accent growing thicker by the second. “You’re so wonderful darling.” She twists the fingers of one hand, and suddenly you’re caught in a position of not knowing where exactly Wanda’s arms are. Intellectually you know that they’re by your head, bracing her body so she’s not lying on top of you. But you can also feel and see them groping and pawing at your breasts, squeezing and kneading the sensitive flesh as Wanda stares down at you lovingly.

“You’re wonderful.” You moan, wondering idly when you got so sappy. “I love you Wanda. But please, harder!” Wanda laughs, and it’s a glorious sound, delighted and carefree, then she gives a devilish grin.

“Your wish is my command.” She purrs, and then her hips start to move. You let out another, louder, cry, hands grabbing desperately at Wanda’s back for some sort of anchor. She’s moaning as well, less loudly than you but no less wantonly. It’s clear that both of you are already on the verge. Which makes sense. You wonder if Wanda realized that using the strap on you so quickly after your orgasm would result in you being much more sensitive, and by extension her more sensitive thanks to the toy’s magic. Wanda doesn’t always think things like that through, but it’s kind of adorable and very hot.

Then Wanda thrusts particularly hard and hits exactly the right spot, and you lose the ability to think about anything but how fucking good Wanda fucking you feels. She manages to hit all the right spots inside of you, aided by the abnormal shape of the strap. You don’t care if she’s using magic to cheat, it feels far too good.

“Oh god darling…” Wanda gasps, before breaking down into Sokovian, losing her English for a moment. “Fuck. I’m so close. Let’s cum together. Can you do that for me darling?” A third phantom hand cups your cheek, turning your head to enforce eye contact. “Cum with me darling.” Wanda commands, an order you’re only too happy to obey.

Your second orgasm of the night knocks you on your ass, metaphorically. You scream your lungs out, your vision going white for a moment, only dimly registering Wanda’s own cries and when she collapses on top of you. You barely notice her rubbing her fingers through your hair, or her tired, breathless murmur of “Mine.” All you feel is her, and all you think about is this. Your wonderful life, with your wonderful wife.

What more could you want?

Fifteen Minutes Later

It was with some reluctance that Wanda pried herself off of you, making sure to reach into your mind to urge you deeper into sleep. She had work to do, and she didn’t need you waking up to ask questions about where she was or worse, what she was doing. She was better now than she had been with Westview. Of course, Westview had been an accident, and she’d been working with a real town. This new place, Northview (Wanda would readily admit she wasn’t great with names) was built from scratch, in a patch of undeveloped land that had previously belonged to some ranchers with certain political leanings that made Wanda fairly certain nobody would genuinely miss them. Everything was carefully laid out, crafted over days of deliberation and planning. Agatha hadn’t been lying when she said a spell couldn’t be changed once cast, and Wanda wasn’t taking any chances.

Everything was modular this time. Nothing relied on something else that didn’t have to. The hexagonal barrier (it always came out as a hexagon, Wanda assumed as a cosmic pun on ‘hex’) was separated from the simulated weather, was separated from the conjured people and animals, from the magical power grid. Everything in town was under her control, outside of the boys of course. And her darling, to a lesser extent.

Eventually she’d have to figure out how to safely bring real people in. The boys deserved real friends, would need them. And her darling…well, Wanda wasn’t certain she wanted to share you, but some friends could be good…this universe’s Darcy would probably be happy to move in. Maybe Clint as well, provided the farm itself wasn’t sentimental.

Wanda mused as she strode through the paused zoo, waving a hand to casually patch a few potholes before she double checked the proximity charms. Not every ‘living’ thing in Northview was constantly moving and going about their day of course. Even for her that’d be too much. Instead everything went still whenever her sons or her wife weren’t within four miles of them. By herself the town was a frozen thing, a video game on pause.

She did this every night, more or less. Everything needed to be perfect for her family. Her sons were the priority, the only people in town aside from her with one hundred percent free will. But her darling wasn’t a puppet, and Wanda wanted to make sure everything was good for her as well.

At times Wanda felt a little guilty about what she’d done to the younger woman, but never for very long. A life as her wife in a magical town with no bills was undeniably better than being a single mother to twins, even if she was getting some money from Pepper, and a bit less from the government. Yes, Wanda played fast and loose with her darling’s memories, and had crafted a false therapist to justify some of her behavior, but still. She left the emotions alone. Everything her wife felt was real. Based on false memories frequently, but real emotional responses regardless. And since the memories were driven by things that would have happened, Wanda was fairly certain they were okay as well.

Satisfied that the small issues she’d noticed were taken care of, Wanda returned to her house, taking a moment to herself on the way to just enjoy the sensation of flight in the cool night air. Quiet moments like this, when the town was silent and all was calm, were a pleasant break. Still, she longed to be home, and returned after a quick few loops, landing on the balcony of the master bedroom to slip back inside. She smiled at the sight of her darling, fast asleep, still leashed to the bed, naked and waiting for her.

Exactly as it should be. She’d had to make it, but she had her perfect home now. Finally. She couldn’t imagine being happier, and she’d make sure you couldn’t either. It was her world after all. What more could either of you ask for?

#dark mcu #dark fic #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda x reader #dark!femslash #mcu femslash #wanda maximoff x reader

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