#and the mission needed a stone cold b

[crown-ov-horns]

I hate being cynical about my faves but... Every mother has her favorites I guess

At the same time, in Apocalypse, she did turn to Madison first

#ahs #american horror story #ahs coven #cordelia goode #zoe benson #queenie #madison montgomery #nan #ahs meme #ahs fandom #memes #ahs apocalypse #i wonder why she had madison investigate michael and not zoe #i guess she needed zoe and queenie at the academy #and the mission needed a stone cold b #madison is much more likeable in apocalypse than she is.... well mostly in the end of coven #even a great mother like cordelia has her favorites #i guess she could never find out what happened to nan #nan was thriving in hell at least #and why didn't she try to kill madison? kyle and spalding hid the body... maybe that's why #or because madison refused to revive zoe

[blughxreader]

Soft yandere Miguel O’Hara

cw: noncon, breeding, kidnapping, m masturbation, biting, SPOILERS. Headcanons and drabble. 1.4k words.

Mean dom Miguel is so hot, but I find that soft yan Miguel has so much overlap with canon.

This man still does all the sick and deplorable things a villain does, but in a way that's strangely tender.

I mean, you simultaneously have to be a sweet man and a stone-cold motherfucker to step in the shoes of your dead counterpart and con his family into thinking everything is fine. Like, he (eventually) fucked a dead man's wife, adopted his child, and seamlessly integrated into his shoes.

While certainly calloused, it also reveals a profound desperation for love and a willingness to do anything for it.

Enter you: a Spider from a random dimension that got caught up in an anomaly's destruction. Maybe your world was destroyed or it's emotionally difficult for you to return, so you end up spending a lot of time at HQ.

Miguel doesn't notice you for a while. There's hundreds of Spiders milling about the base, so it's only until you befriend Peter B and his baby that you get acquainted.

You draw him in without trying, no matter the walls that Miguel puts up. He needs to focus—everyone's very existence is at stake, dammit,—but by month five, you're the only thing he can think about.

His advances start off slow, bogged down by his own exasperation at himself. You're ordered to give in-person de-briefs in Miguel's office and get invited to lunch with him and Peter B, giving you the impression of an upcoming promotion. Miguel is as poised as ever, not letting a single stray emotion color his expression, and talks to you in an aloof, polite manner.

However uninterested he might seem, his insides tighten and flutter at your growing friendship. Every time you smile or secretly share a bemused look, he sinks deeper and deeper in his desire to have you.

Proximity-wise, Miguel vacillates between sitting next to you, close enough for your elbows to brush, and standing 30 feet away on his podium for the next week.

His involuntary, physical reactions startle him, and it becomes another contention he internally wars about. The second he thinks it's harmless to brush against you, it divulges into grabbing—cupping—pinning—fucking—ruining.

God, he fucking loathes the powerless feeling you inflict on him, but he doesn't have the strength to put an end to your friendship. He furiously jerks off after every meeting, biting into his hand to punish himself as he comes to the thought of you swollen with his child.

He thinks of all the deplorable ways to make you pay for causing these feelings, but he ultimately knows the blame lies within him. You see him as a boss and friend, nothing more. You would never intentionally drag him down to this state, so he bottles up all these feelings for your protection.

It takes a particularly bad mission for his control to break.

Whatever reservations he had about locking you in his bedroom evaporate when he sees you covered in blood and rubble. Protecting you from himself was one thing, but the thousands of universes?

You didn't realize what happened until you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, weary from pain medication.

He takes your fear, anger, and tears in stride.

While he can't shake his bitchy personality, his annoyance always fizzles out to mumbles and sighs. For months, he takes your verbal abuse and outbursts with resigned acceptance. Miguel didn't always like what he had to do, but he would commit any atrocity if it meant keeping you at his side.

He moves some of his work at home to spend more time with you, just content to occupy the same room while you adjusted to your new situation.

Your shared apartment is quiet most days, save for sporadic outbursts of rage from you, and Miguel daydreams about having a few little kids running around to fill the void.

He stares at you most evenings, watching you curled up on the couch pointedly ignoring him. Miguel thinks you wouldn't be so belligerent if you needed him for something, if you craved his presence and help in some way.

Miguel's mind always drifts back to his favorite fantasies on nights like these: you nine months pregnant and too big for anything other than his shirts. His eyes drift down to your stomach, to the place where you could make his dreams come true.

Patience is something Miguel prides himself on, which is why he puts up with the loneliness for nearly a year after bringing you home. You were given ample time to warm up to him and he's been nothing but kind. Every broken plate and spoiled food, every scratch across his face, every insult—he let you have your way in hopes that you'll eventually recognize him as your lover.

But no. You complained and struggled every step of the way.

Miguel could never hurt you, but he realized that more permanent and assertive measures had to be taken to make you see that you need and love him as much as he does you.

---

When he finally takes you, there's hardly any space between your bodies. There are months of touch starvation to make up for and Miguel is compensating all at once.

His entire 6'9" stature pins you to his bed, locking you between arms as large as your thighs. Miguel is the only thing you see or feel, as his hands caress every dip and curve of your body and his cock grinds against your slit.

With your legs helplessly hiked up around his waist and one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head, he makes love to you with a slow burning intensity.

Your fear and disgust are palpable, but between his sweet voice in your ear and his fingers somehow knowing the rhythm and speed to play with your clit, you're more wet than you've ever been.

"Shh, shh, mi cornazón. I have you." Miguel kisses your jaw, his cock rocking in and out of your aching heat with an agonizingly slow pace. "Just breathe steadily and let me take care of you."

He's too big inside of you, and your grunts of pain make him linger in place to help you adjust. When his stride picks up and the wet sounds of sex fill the bedroom, disgust roils in your stomach. Yet fuck, fuck, fuck, your body temperature rises with each stroke.

Miguel kisses you deeply, using his free hand to hold your head in place. He says, "It's time. I've been so patient. Be brave for me and take our baby."

He swallows your horrified pleading with another scorching kiss.

Your pussy clenches around his dick and your breath catches in your throat. Miguel hugs you tighter, his nose pressed into your hair as he angles himself just right. When the first waves of your orgasm make your head dip back, the sharp edge of fangs scratch your neck.

You barely register his mantra of, "Te amo," when his jaw clamps down on your shoulder. Blood spurts from between his teeth, and you cry out in confused pain as your orgasm shakes your body.

Miguel moans into your flesh seconds later, pumping his cum deep inside you. His thrusting is uncoordinated and rough, too blinded by pleasure to notice how powerful his pounding is. The mattress springs whine beneath you two, and you can only cry from the overwhelming treatment.

He milks every last drop of cum into your cunt before he begins to slow. Both of you gasp for breath, your chests heaving against one another's as sweat cools on your hot skin.

He keeps you plugged up for a while longer to give the conception time. His bloodied lips drag across the wound on your shoulder, peppering you with kisses as he trails red along your neck.

A sob shutters in your chest as Miguel runs a palm along your stomach.

"You'll understand soon. I promise. This will be the best thing that's ever happened to us."

#yandere miguel o'hara #dark miguel o hara #yandere miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #yandere spiderverse #cw: noncon #cw: breeding #afab

[lovifie]

A/B/O!Reader x Task Force 141

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Task Force 141, the most fear-inducing task of the active force. 

Before you joined, it was composed of four massive, scary-looking alpha. At some point, everyone thought about how there were no fights between them.

A normal pack cannot function without members of all subgenders, but again, the 141 is not a normal pack.

John Price, captain of the unit and leader of the pack; whatever he said was set on stone. The alpha, whose parents were both betas was the perfect mix of genetic and learned habilites, a calming and reassuring nature unpropper of an alpha.

You were surprised when you were to his office, even more, when the other three men were also inside. But they matched your surprise with theirs when they saw you enter the room. 

Almost comically small next to them, you were not built as Soap who (at just a couple of inches shorter than the rest) makes up for it with his wideness. You are short, have the athletic build proper of a soldier, a cute face and a neck covered in scent blocker tape. 

“I don't like it when people can tell what I'm feeling.”

That was the only explanation. 

Still, they were surprised. You were not what they expected, on your file was just a list of the missions you have completed, many of them going solo and still succeeding. Little was written about you outside of work: “Behavioral problems (they don't interfere with the mission), don't touch scent blocker tape; will use scent tactics to teammates.”

But the task force was not the most normal one to begin with, so they were not the right one to judge. You'll fit in just fine. 

And it did, for months until something happened on a mission.

There are expensive suppressants, too expensive. And even with your raise, you can't afford them. So you use the slightly worse one, the one that makes you feel every symptom of your heat just one step before collapsing. But as long as anybody else knows you are an omega, everything will work out.

You are used to them already, on the outside you look perfectly fine, a little bit pissed if anything. On the inside, you can feel your blood boil with your fever, your bones hurt as if they were being broken and your inner omega keeps screaming at you to jump any of the men walking mere meters before you. 

The ice-cold water of the river you are walking across helps you with the high temperature of your body, and when it gets too deep you need to swim across you don't really mind it. Until you finally get out, and the corner of the tape of your neck starts to itch. 

You scratch it, pressing it down as you do, but instead; it gets stuck on your glove peeling it back, your nose instantly filling with the reekingly sweet smell of an omega on heat.

You tape it back quickly, trying not to panic, is fine, it was just a second, you are wearing a scarf over the tape, you smelled it because is your own neck. 

Everyone just got out of the water, is fine, they probably didn't smell you. It's fine.

And when they turn around, eyes black with how dilated their pupils are, and you know.

They have smelled you.

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3

#call of duty #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #simon riley #john price x reader #john price #task force 141 #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #captain price #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #captain price x reader #task force 141 x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #gaz x reader #soap #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz #poly 141 x reader

[piratesfromspace]

Just Like Old Times (Price x Reader + poly141)

Pairing: Reader x Price (& Reader x 141) Rated: Mature Word count: 2.9k Summary: A cottage in the snow. A Captain you knew in another life. His rugged and attractive men. Will you let them into your life? Note: This is a fic I wrote for @literatecowboy for the Secret Santa event organized by @bunnyreaper! I tried to make something soft and sweet and it's taking place during the winter, it's not smutty but if you like it, I can make a part 2 with some action 👀

EDIT: we have a PART 2!!

Content: ex-military!fem!reader, mention of food & alcohol, a little bit of angst but it’s mainly fluff, smoking, flirting, praise kink, sharing body heat

MASTERLIST // PART 2

It had been Laswell’s idea. 

The team needs to be ready for snow conditions, do whatever you think is best. You have 3 weeks. And I’m talking extreme weather, Price, not a little trip to your local ski resort.

Those had been the instructions Kate had delivered to an unphased Price.

He knew it was only a matter of time before this kind of mission would be required from them. Of course, the men of the 141 have already trained in the cold of England, have seen and tested the winter gear. But Laswell is about to send them somewhere at the very East of Europe, and there is a small difference between surviving winter in London and surviving winter in places where the cold could kill you in minutes if you didn't have the proper equipment or knowledge. Over there, more than usual, tiny mistakes could have big consequences. And Price would rather not have his team freeze to death because of a lack of training. 

It’s December and the month is cold already. But it’s nothing compared to the cold Soap feels when he steps out of the helicopter. It’s like Price has picked the coldest place he knows in America. He’s pretty sure they are somewhere in Wyoming or Montana, the only thing he can see are mountains all around them. Spruce and fir trees sprawl in dark patches contrasting with the stark white of the snow covering everything. He crosses the large glade to reach the tree line, as the helicopter takes off, sending the fresh snow flying in every direction. The sky is a light gray, and while the whole scene is stunning - makes his head spin with equal awe and wonder thinking about nature’s force and brutal beauty - it means there is no sun to warm his face. 

“Come on soldiers, let’s move, we still have a two-hour hike to reach our B&B!”

“You mean someone will be there to make us breakfast Captain?” Soap chimes, unbridled joy coming through his voice at the prospect of warm home-made meals instead of MREs.

Price has a hard time hiding a smile as he starts walking on the thin winding path, only recognisable for those who know it’s there. ”There will be someone, but I’m not sure they will cook for you, Sergeant.”

Ghost lets out a dry chuckle and follows the steps of their Captain, leaving Soap and Gaz a bit puzzled.

❄️

The sun is already setting when you hear loud voices outside, and soon after a series of knocks on your door. You’re a little stressed when you rise from the floor in front of your fireplace to go open the door. You have agreed to shelter those 4 soldiers for 3 entire weeks only as a favor to Price. An old acquaintance who saved your life, a decade earlier, before you left the field to heal your wounds - body and mind. The large wood cabin had been your home for a few years already. You keep it open for women like you, in need of time away from the world, although it’s pretty rare they come during winter time when the road is blocked by snow. It’s an old building, but well-kept and you made it as cozy as possible, all warm natural tones, plush carpets on dark wood floors, dark gray stones in the bathrooms. 

You welcome them with a soft smile, delighting in their surprise - seems like John had not told them he planned on using your cottage as a back-up base for this training expedition. John’s team members are not really what you expected: there is one Scott with a mohawk that seems simultaneously annoyed and happy to be there (he has terrific blue eyes), a young and calm brown-haired Brit (he’s really cute, like movie-star cute), and a behemoth with a literal skull mask (his size alone has your head spinning). You can’t complain about them though, as they are polite and friendly, praising your home - and for sure taking in the comfort and warmth one last time before heading off for days of rudimental camping in the icy woods. You don’t envy them, remembering that one mission you did in Siberia when you were still in active duty, that wasn’t really fun. They settle in their rooms easily and you all share a quick dinner you had cooked - except for the masked giant. The banter goes fast between them, especially after you offer them beers. You like being alone, but you have to admit they are fun to be around.

❄️

The living room is silent and dark, the only light coming from the fireplace across your couch. After dinner, you had trouble finding sleep in your room, so you went to read a bit in front of the fire. But you must have dozed off, because you wake up suddenly, gasping, arms flailing, sitting up immediately. Your frantic eyes, wide open, scan the room for the reason of your awakening, survival instinct going overdrive. Someone is standing in your living room, frozen in place on their way to the front door. It’s the behemoth with the skull mask - the scariest of them all, of course.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” he apologizes. In the darkness of the room, it looks like his jaw is not even moving beneath the dark fabric covering the lower half of his face, like the sound just pours out of him or like he’s speaking directly inside your head. He might actually, you’re not entirely convinced the giant is not some sort of supernatural being John brought back from a cursed battlefield. It’s unnerving to say the least. 

“I’m sorry, it- it happens sometimes, I can’t help it, my instinct thought you were a threat…” you blurt out before realizing you may have offended him in some way by implying he’s not worthy of your trust. But instead of scoffing, he lets out a thoughtful hum, lowering his head to look at his boots, almost sheepish. 

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” His voice is low, calm, and at the same time you can feel something else, sadness, maybe disappointment, in what or who, you’re not sure.

“Care for a smoke?” he offers after a beat of silence, nodding to the front door. You don’t smoke anymore, cut the nasty habit years ago. That’s why you don’t know what compels you to accept, but you’re not gonna be able to sleep now, so you follow him outside, grabbing your coat on the way. 

You half expect him to smoke through the mask, but he pushes the fabric up enough to reveal a strong jaw covered in light stubble, and plush lips. So he’s human after all. The slick and heavy storm lighter looks ridiculously small in his giant hand when he lights his cigarette. He takes a deep puff before handing it to you.

“Sorry, last one.”

Your fingers graze his, and you bring it to your lips to drag a small puff that immediately makes you cough.

“You ok?” he rasps, humor tilting the corner of his mouth upwards.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, that’s all” you provide. He hums in approval at your explanation. 

When you hand him the cigarette, you take a moment to look at his mouth, the way his throat works when he inhales, the way the silver smoke dances between his open lips and fades into the night sky. Something warms your gut when you realize his lips are set just where yours had been a few seconds ago. 

You don’t know what’s more attractive, this or the fact he doesn’t try to make conversation for the sake of it. He doesn’t bother to explain why he couldn’t sleep and felt the need to smoke at 3 in the morning. He knows you understand. You are just glad to bask in the soft noises of nature at night - wind in the threes, the hooting of an owl. Fuck, you’ve been alone up there for too long to thirst on John’s colleagues just like this, just a few hours after their arrival. You shake your head, driving out the thought, and take the cigarette again from his fingers.

❄️

The next morning, you wake up pretty early after a short night, only to find one of them - the pretty one, Gaz - is already fixing coffee in your kitchen like he belongs there. You honestly could get used to this. The thin long sleeves of his shirt are doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath, rolling as he’s going about this mundane task of preparing breakfast. His kind eyes and soft voice when he asks for your choice of eggs makes your heart flutter with a yearning for this kind of intimate domesticity you had never really allowed yourself up until then. It’s kinda concerning, at this rate you’re gonna ask one - all? - of them to stay with you in your cottage instead of going back to whatever missions at the other end of the world. 

The rest of the day is not making you change your mind. Price had asked if anything needed their help around the house, and you gave them the tedious task of moving the gigantic pile of wood logs stocked at the other end of your garden closer to the house. It would have taken you days to do it by yourself. But by lunch time, the pile had dwindled to a fifth of what it was thanks to the hard work of the four men. The two younger ones were down to their long-sleeve compression shirts despite the cold, sleeves rolled up their elbows, showing off strong forearms, various scars slashing across the discreet swirls of black ink from old tattoos. Some disappear under the black gloves they are all sporting. Sweat plasters the fabric of their shirts to their shoulders and chests. You can’t deny they look fucking good. 

You had accepted Price’s demand without much after-thought, but now you couldn’t be more happy about it, ogling those four rugged men laboring away for you. Despite being older than his men, Price is far from looking bad. He’s built like a brick house, a healthy layer of fat covering muscles he’s been honing for two decades. Dark hair peaks from the open collar of his jacket, your eyes follow the line of the thin garment which is hugging his tapered waist, down to his thick thighs. Fuck. You remember what it was like to be close to him - literally and figuratively. He was your colleague, an equal, a couple years older than you but you shared the same rank. He was a mentor, a friend, a lover - only briefly, after that fateful mission where he saved your life on the field. You parted ways in good spirit after you announced that you wanted to retire, needed to get your head straight before committing to anything. Today, you ask yourself if maybe you could take this back from where you left it.

❄️

You want to train with us today, love? Just like old times.

Price had asked you the question the next morning and you had not been hard to convince. It was more about being able to look at them than to train your body, but they didn’t need to know that. Even if you keep a pretty healthy lifestyle, you can’t compete with elite soldiers, and by the fourth set of push-ups, your arms are giving out. You’re about to stop and reach for your water bottle, when Price notices. 

“Come on, you can do five more, I’m sure!”

You groan in response, but you go back in position.

“Breathe, love. Back a little more straight. Elbows in. That’s it… Good.” 

Price’s deep voice is calm as he’s encouraging you, gently correcting your posture.

“Don’t look down, chin up. Perfect, you’re doing good.” he goes on, and you cheeks warm under his praise, enough to make you forget the stinging cold. Your whole body is clenched with the effort, you’re letting out little cries with each push-up, your muscles are hurting, but you want nothing more than to make the captain proud.

“Just one more. Done! You did great darling, I’m impressed.” 

He helps you get up on shaking legs and when you almost stumble, he secures you upright against his chest, keeps you there for two seconds more than he should for it to not look intentional. When you raise your head, you’re suddenly so close to his face, blue eyes staring down at you with a glint in them you can’t ignore. You reluctantly part before reaching for your water bottle again, playing coy.

The three others are not oblivious to the little game between you and Price. You notice how they exchange knowing looks and little smiles whenever you both interact. Worst, they also seem to pick up on your love for being praised and soon enough they take every excuse to whisper how good your aim still is during target training, or how smart you are for knowing everything about the local fauna during your afternoon hike. It never sounds like they’re mocking you though, never feels like it’s not genuine. It’s not fair, really. At this rate, you don’t know how you’re gonna survive living under the same roof with four attractive men for three entire weeks. 

The answer to this torture of yours is revealed quickly. After a few days of acclimatization at your cottage, Price and his men are ready for a long expedition higher in the mountains, with just tents and even a short surviving-in-extreme-cold workshop. They will be gone for at least ten days. You watch them pack their gear and leave your place with a pinch in your heart you couldn’t expect when you first opened your door to them.

❄️

Days go by, pretty uneventful, until your heating system breaks down. It’s not the first time since you’re leaving up there, it’s not that scary but you’ll have to wait a few days for the repair team to come by. In the meantime, you resort to live and sleep in your living room, where the fireplace provides enough heat to keep you warm in the heart of the winter.

They come back the day after that, and when you see their silhouettes emerging from the treeline, just before the sun sets down, you can’t prevent your lips to form a smile so big it hurts your cheeks after a couple minutes standing in the biting cold. 

The fondness in Price’s eyes is not dulled by the news your heater is out of order, nor is the relief on Soap’s and Gaz’s faces at the promise of a solid roof and comfy beds after days of rudimentary accommodations.

You all work to prepare some food, and to bring a couple mattresses with all the duvets you can find in front of the fireplace - the only sane solution for you all to sleep without suffering too much from the freezing temperatures. It reminds you of your years of service, when you sometimes had to share a single room with your whole squad - you’re not missing the stress and the harsh living conditions, but you’re definitely missing the camaraderie, the jokes and fits of laughter, the bodies of trusted people around you. 

They leave you the couch - gentlemen that they are - the objectively most comfortable option, but once again you can’t find sleep. The piece of furniture is the farthest away from the fire, and you’re on your own, no one next to you to share body heat with you. 

It’s only because I’m cold. That’s the poor excuse you give yourself - and the one you whisper to Price - when you step down from your couch to seek a place under the cover next to John. He’s sleeping next to Gaz; Soap and Ghost are sharing the other mattress. You slide yourself against him, immediately melting into his chest, the man radiating heat like it’s his only purpose in life. He doesn’t even have to ask you if it’s okay to hold you against him because you plaster yourself to him and nuzzle against his chest, old habits taking over your sleepy brain. A sense of safety and comfort envelopes you at the same time his warmth does. You forgot how good it felt to be in his embrace, to be tucked against his broad chest, surrounded by his smell - manly, ambery wood, and the rich spice of his cigars. 

He chuckles silently as you settle at his side and let out a little content sigh. He missed that too, he won’t say it out loud, but having you like this, soft and pliant in his arms, it makes him wonder how he could be such a fool for not seeking you sooner. He suddenly wants to kiss you, to make you feel good, here and now, no matter the fact his men are sleeping just a few inches from you. Should he care? He’s not blind to the fact you spend a good amount of time leering at them since they’re here, and to the fact they are watching you back. He can not ignore the shameless flirting going on between all of you five actually. John has never really been in a situation like this, doesn’t know where this will lead him - where this could lead them. But he’s ready to follow you. He takes a deep breath before he talks. 

“Just like old times?” He asks, voice low, chest vibrating with it under your palm. 

Just like old times… The words echo in your head, echo in your heart. He gives you the opportunity to lead him - to lead them - wherever you wish.

“Just like old times.” You repeat back to him, before you capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

PART 2

#cod fanfiction #captain price x reader #polyamory #poly tf141 #poly 141 #price x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x soap #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty fanfic #winter fics

[vanvelding]

I'm going to say one of the nicest things I can about a show about Star Trek: Lower Decks

They played us like a string quartet.

(Spoilers for 4x09: "The Inner Fight")

Lower Decks was sold a Star Trek/Rick & Morty mashup from the start. The first scene is a drunken Mariner literally harming her sidekick, Boimler. It practically screamed, "Mariner & Boimler a hundred tours! Double-u, double-u, double-u dot Mariner and boimler dot com!"

But of course, it also had Star Trek references. One of the earliest is "Who would win in a fight? Khan or Roga Danar?" Why would anyone else in The Federation know or care who Roga Danar is? And there's no imagination on display for the oldest referential paradigm, "Who would win in a fight?" Lazy. Bullshit.

Of course before the end of season one, Lower Decks showed us it was more than that. Boimler was gaining the kind of experience he needed. The story hinted very strongly that Mariner had been in Starfleet a LONG time. She wasn't a omnicompotent mary sue; she was a Commander with her own philosophy/trauma that compelled her to remain an Ensign.

It was a good show and it stood on its own. The references were used well to create interesting stories ("Twovix"), as part of the setting ("Hear All, Trust Nothing"), or just as a gag here and there ("Kayshon, His Eyes Open" and, like a dozen others). The references to the setting become the background radiation, remarkable in how deep a cut they really are (Vendorians?). I've described it to many people as "Star Trek, but everyone has watched Star Trek."

What it wasn't, was related to its namesake. "Lower Decks" was a surprisingly heavy episode about the younger members of the Enterprise crew and their perspective on the missions of galactic import that the viewer usually enjoys an omnisicent view of.

Lower Decks mentions our main cast don't have that omniscient view, but Mariner is a stone-cold badass, Rutherford was part of a secret effort to develop artificial intelligence, Tendi is the Mistress of the Winter Constellations, and Boimler--actually Biomler is no more exceptional than any other Starfleet officer.

So when we get our main cast and the senior officers into a room and they mention Nick Locarno, our thought is, "LOL, another reference. This one from TNG. Not particularly deep. LOL, Boimler is a Beverly Crusher fanboy. I guess it makes sense, they have the character model from the episode with Tom Paris. Clearly, Robert Duncan McNeil is happy to do some voice work. We'll probably make a reference to how much he looks like Tom Paris.

"lol"

Look, if you figured it out then pat yourself on the back. Me? I filed away another reference. I didn't realize that Nick Locarno was connected to the episode of TNG that was this entire series' namesake. The characters even say, "Who?" which is one of the first times they don't get a Star Trek reference. Because Nick Locarno isn't a part of the Star Trek universe they view with an enthusiastic fandomness; it's part of their dramatic history, whether they know it or not.

"ha-ha, I guess Nick Locarno is too deep a cut for the show that called back to Morgan fucking Bateson."

But whatever, A-plot/B-plot. Gags about Starfleet habitually rolling up to seedy establishments in uniforms while looking for information, which is subverted by Captain Freeman being fucking genre savvy (also, wasn't she going to be promoted before getting arrested at the end of season two? I guess getting framed for a crime was deemed to be not very 'admiral-able'). Mariner ends up in a cave with a Klingon taking shelter from a crystal rain.

The pieces are there. Mariner was an ensign during The Dominion War. Two to three years before The Dominion War, Wesley Crusher left Starfleet, our Nick Locarno expy Tom Paris was recruited to Voyager, and Sito Jaxa was an ensign.

And Nick Locarno is in play.

We could have figured it out! We're in the narrative and emotional third act of this series (Tendi gave us the "We'll always be friends" speech last week)! Everyone regular just sat in a room trying to figure out how to help Mariner; we were one fruit salad analogy away from an intervention with Dr. Migleemoo!

Mariner escapes from Cardassian interrogation chambers for fun!

But Locarno is just another TNG reference, like Beverly Crusher. Background radiation. The season's story arc is something original to Lower Decks, which it's proven it's unafraid to do at this point. The series has no relation to "Lower Decks"

And then they fucking hit us with it; Beckett Mariner knew Sito Jaxa. They were friends. Then Jaxa died.

That's Mariner's trauma (that and The Dominion War).

And I didn't see it because I came to see Lower Decks as a series that stood on its own merits as a show while calling back to earlier Treks in a light, non-committal way. And I credit that solely to the writing of the show which leveraged both of those qualities to make an entertaining show that I like before, but now respect.

Just amazing stuff.

#star trek #star trek lower decks #star trek lwd #lower decks #lower decks spoilers #star trek lwd spoilers

[flametrashiraarchive]

I had completely forgotten I started this...

NSFW Alphabet- Sanemi Shinazugawa: A-I

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

In the beginning Sanemi will swear he doesn't do aftercare. But as you lie there, body still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure, he'll put his rough hand on your chest and let it stay there. That's about as close to cuddling as you'll get. If you need water he'll get it. He'll complain the entire time he's getting it for you, but it'll be fresh and cold and brought to you in your favorite cup. If you need a washcloth to clean up with, he'll get you a nice, soft one but he'll throw it at you from across the room.

As your relationship progresses and he starts to believe you aren't going to be wrenched away from him, he progressively gets a little gentler: his whole arm across you instead of just his hand, a little less grumbling on his way to the kitchen… and he'll throw the washcloth at you underarm instead of fucking flinging it at you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's very proud of his chest and abs; that goes without saying. And he knows you like them too. He catches you staring at them all the damn time and gives you shit for being a pervert (he loves it)

On you? Your thighs. He likes to leave hickeys on them. Later, when he trusts you aren't going anywhere he likes to lie between your thighs with the back of his head on your crotch (squish him with your thighs and play with his hair please… please.)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) 

He LOVES seeing his cum on your skin. He has his best orgasms when he pulls out of you and shoots his load on you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Look, he's not proud of it but he did once de-stone a ripe peach and left it out in the sun to warm up before he fucked it. It felt good but it made his dick sticky and he hadn't really planned the cleanup aspect. Never again.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Regardless of experience, you can bet your ass he'll make it his mission to get the biggest reactions out of you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

In the beginning, doggy. He loves fucking you hard and fast and making you whimper. 

But once he gets comfortable with his feelings… he's never ever felt anything like the intimacy of fucking you face-to-face. It almost scares him at first. And then he gets addicted to watching your facial expressions as you come. 

He still loves doggy, but he'll sometimes lean over when he feels you get close and turn your face to the side so he can watch you screw your eyes shut and cry out. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's not goofy but he does laugh (at you, affectionately). He loves to make you whine and whimper and tease you for sounding so desperate.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't have any and you'll never know if he shaves it or he just doesn't have it (just like his eyebrows)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

At first there's no romance whatsoever. It's just sex. It's a release. He's honestly terrified of catching feelings because that means he's opening himself up to a fresh world of hurt. So he's rough with you. He tries to keep his distance. He really tries.

However, once he opens up, the intimacy is intense and it destroys him in the best way. He has absolutely cried after sex before. Not sobbing or anything, just a few silent, happy tears as he holds you, making sure to keep your head held firmly against his chest so you don't see them (you did though, and held him a little tighter.)

#idk whether to continue #sanemi x reader #sanemi smut #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi headcanons #shinazugawa sanemi

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Work of art

---

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 2400

Content: being eachother's muses, artists falling in love.

---

He had been keeping an eye on you for quite some time now. And every time he spotted you, you were seated with that same book, scribbling something into it. But what got to him most was how you allowed everyone but him to take a peek inside it. What was it, that it’s secret content was never shared with him.

Now you were lounging on a ledge in his office waiting for your mission, but you were content with your headphones on and a pencil in hand. Some times he would forget you were there but he could always feel your gaze on him. He suppressed a smile as his eyes flitted back to his screens, he had never known another person could outbid him at being standoffish.

But this calm peace around him broke when the team gathered and you stirred from your spot to hop down and greet Peter B Parker. He frowned, he had been here the entire time and you had failed to approach him. He resumed his stance, this shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did.

There you were again, now laughing with Peter as Mayday giggled, showing him pages from that damn book. His claws began to emerge from his skin. He was going to give you the cold shoulder too then.

“Why are you so moody today?”, LYLA popped by his shoulder to ask.

“I’m not.”, he mumbled.

“It tends to happen whenever she’s around.”, she wiggled her eyebrows at him which only frustrated him more.

“I’m not moody.”, he spoke through his teeth.

“Surely looks like you are.”, LYLA laughed.

He huffed to turn to the group but his eyes could only keep coming back to you, your shared smiles with Pavitr, your eased body language around Hobie but it only pushed him further into a state of despair when he noticed Miles laughing about something in your book.

He got down from his podium, he was the boss here but the moment your eyes caught his, his anger disappeared and he forgot his words.

Why was it so hard to exert control over you?

He should have you at his beck and call but it was you who had power over him. You could call for him and he would be by your side in an instant.

“Mission allocation.”, he addressed the group.

He sent each one away with a task to do and then there was only you.

“Don’t tell me I’m still suspended.”, you folded your arms because being around him for extended periods of time did you no good.

“Unfortunately, you are.”, he turned away as though he had a chip on his shoulder and his only motive was to cut you deep.

“Fine, then I’m going home.”, you rebelled stomping after him.

“You can’t.”, he replied without so much as even looking at you not affected by your glares.

“Why are you so infuriating?”, you edged closer to him, to get into his line of sight.

“I'm infuriating? You're- ”, he met your gaze as he swallowed the rest of his phrase and your fingers itched for your pencil again, to draw him from this perspective, especially with how the lights fell on his face. It was getting out of hand, he occupied every little corner of your mind and you ran out of pages in your sketchbook from drawing him.

“Ugh.”, you turned away, he was in your head, taunting and tempting you and now you needed another book to capture his pretty face and his emotions. It wasn’t fair that you had to be so affected by him while he was a wall of stone.

“You know what, fine, have it your way.”, you gave up now stuck in close proximity that you were sure the final book you had was going to be filled with sketches of him in his office.

His eyes widened as though he was about to take it back, the brown in his pupils softening to a warm hazel. You wished you had your other art supplies, to capture this new color. You were certain you were going mad.

He watched you go back to your spot, the one he had now grown fond of because you inhabited it. But it didn’t make him feel any better to have you be around him against your wishes. But he wanted to find out about the contents of your book and if he could get LYLA to snoop around, his thoughts could be put to rest.

“Or you could ask her.”, LYLA told him to which he chuckled sarcastically.

“She avoids me like I’m a mutating anomaly.”, he typed away on his keyboard. Bringing up a folder that contained pictures from his camera.

All of it holding pictures of you at different places, while at work or here in his office. This was getting out of hand, his hobby had now become a fixation on you, unable to still grasp the extent of your beauty. That the more he took the more he kept and the more he dreamed of you.

“Now just do what I asked you to do.”, he dismissed LYLA, his eyes sneaking glances at you now aware that it was only the two of you here.

Insufferable, you thought as you shaded his back muscles into your sketch.

He was keeping you here to possibly teach you a lesson and it frustrated you because you didn’t mind. You could stay here, on this ledge as observe him for hours. What you couldn’t understand was why he allowed you to. He sensed when someone had their eyes on him, he knew when people held him in their line of sight and yet he hadn’t said a word to you.

LYLA popped up next to you and you scrabbled to shut your book.

“I’m not going to lie to you, he’s getting on my nerves.”, she sighed dramatically and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why? Has he grounded you too?”, you asked to which she adjusted her glasses.

“No, he’s bothered by what’s in that book of yours.”, she muttered and your heart stopped.

“He knows?”, you whispered.

“I’m afraid so.”, she said as she patted down her coat.

“You might have to come clean about it.”, she continued and you sighed closing your eyes.

If he knew, then all this while, he let you watch him because he was waiting make you a public example, expose you to everyone about how insane you were and now there was no way to escape it.

So you hopped down, now feeling guilty of your little obsession. His tall frame loomed over you, every action he did, it made you want to freeze time. To capture the beauty of his hand, the arch of his eyebrows or the shape of his nose.

“Here.”, you held it out to him, as if you were submitting stolen evidence.

He turned to you, his eyes narrowing down on the book you held out.

“Just don’t tell anyone.”, you swallowed, nervous of his reaction.

He held the coveted object in his hands, without waiting a second to open the first page. And instantly, the anticipation in his heart had collapsed.

It was a sketchbook, the first one was of Mayday, then followed by Peter, Hobie and Gwen mid fight, Pavitr riding Jess’s motorcycle. He wasn’t sure why you would have to hide this from him, that was until he flipped to the next page and the page after that to see endless sketches of him. While he was working, while he was sleeping, as he fixed up his suit. He filled all your pages and it made his throat run dry.

“You, you drew these?”, he stuttered.

“I thought you already knew?”, you furrowed your brows as you slowly caught on to what was going on.

“You sent LYLA to spy on me.”, you grabbed your sketchbook from his hands as he searched for an explanation.

“I did not.”, he argued.

“He did.”, LYLA appeared next to him.

“LYLA.”, he chided her but you felt betrayed. That was until you spotted something over his shoulder. A picture jutting out behind a tab. You brushed past him to click on the floating square and as it appeared, you gasped.

“No,- he tried to hold you back but you had seen what you had to see. Buried in the middle of all his reports was a picture of you.

“What is this?”, you asked turning to him, now aware of how he was restraining your arms.

“That’s umm you uhh – he was out of his element, his cheeks turning darker as he blushed.

But to make matters worse LYLA clicked a button and the screens flooded with pictures of you. Pictures that looked like he had taken. You couldn’t turn to see him, because you were sure your cheeks had turned red too.

“Why do you have all these photos of me?”, you asked and in response you heard his sigh.

“The same reason you have all those sketches of me.”, his soft gaze met yours as if you both had been caught red handed.

You matched the intensity in his gaze, his eyes never flinched from yours and every time they were on you, it was as though he was capturing a thousand pictures, drinking in the very sight of you, to memorize you the way you had memorized him. You reached up to touch his cheek and could only watch as he crumbled beneath your touch. Like he craved it, you did too, you could sit for hours to make sculptures of him, to paint pictures of him and fill your room with it.

“What have we done to each other?”, he whispered.

“Found our forever muses.”, you smiled, drinking in the sight of his smooth tan skin as your fingers traced over it.

“Now how are you going to make it up to me?”, you ran your fingers over the shape of his lips to hold the sides of his cheek to make him look at you and watched as he held his breath.

“For what?”, his eyes narrowed, his hands bringing you closer to him.

“For lying to me. For spying on me.”, you smiled and he hummed as though the very sight of your joy made him feel it too.

“I’ve got a few ideas.”, he mumbled as he let you settle on his lap, making him recline in his chair.

“Like?”, you whispered.

“Like sending you home.”, he tucked away your hair behind your ear and it wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Oh.”, you pushed away from him.

He looked at the disappointment in your eyes and tried to rectify his statement but it was too late. He could only watch as you grabbed your book and left. He sunk his hands into his hair, frustrated that he had miscommunicated his intent.

“How is it that you managed to mess that up?”, he heard LYLA laugh next to him.

“Shut up.”, he whined as he came up with a new plan.

You were in your studio, clothed in your jumper and running shorts, staring at a blank canvas in annoyance. Because you wanted to paint him and yet with how he had dismissed you this afternoon, you wanted to try and forget him. There was a knock on your door and you moved to answer it, reducing the volume on your music system on your way out. Opening the door, you were struck by the glimpse of his sculpted physique.

“Why are you here?”, you sulked and he walked past you.

“I’m here to make it up to you.”, He spoke to you as he took in the details of your flat.

“Right. Why don’t you stop wasting your time and get back to your work?”, you brushed past him to your studio.

“No, no, I’m here to commission you for an art piece.”, he got into your line of sight. It was getting hard to ignore him, your mind now getting inspired to fill that blank canvas with a portrait of him.

“What do you want me to paint?”, you asked him in an attempt to make fun of him but his answered stopped you.

“Me.”, he smiled, his eyes shimmering with hidden glee.

“Right, so you can hang it up in your office.”, you dismissed him but he caught your wrist instead.

“No, so you can have it.”, he kissed the edge of your fingertips and you could hear the sound of your heart beating in your throat.

“Why are you doing this?”, you asked as he held your hand over his chest, to feel the rhythm of his heart.

“I want your undivided attention.”, he smiled and you were certain your knees were going to give out.

“All this is not going to get me to do your bidding.”, you stood resilient to his charm only to see his eyes darken, taking on your challenge.

Placing your hand on his chest and holding it there, you inhaled a sharp breath as his suit began to disappear till his waist, as though his shirt had been peeled away and you stuttered for words, entranced by his ethereal elegance. You couldn’t reach for the brushes and painting was the furthest thing on your mind now.

“You can either paint me", he tugged you towards him.

"or kiss me.”, he held your gaze and you dropped the paintbrush you held.

“I’m going to kiss you.”, you told him as if you had a spell cast over you, his hand slipped under your neck as he pulled you in.

His lips were a perfect fit against yours and however hard you tried you could never capture this in drawing, this was only for you to experience. The smoothe panes of his back, the soft warmth that emanated from his body, his hands running up your exposed legs as you sunk your fingers into his hair.

It was passionate as he kissed you for the first time but then it mellowed down as he placed his back on the table, to kiss you slow like he was capturing you in his minds eye.

“Eres una obra de arte.”, he spoke against your lips and you broke away to catch your breath, as you looked at him sprawled beneath you, his hands holding your waist steady. His hair spread out over his head as his cheeks were flush with colour.

“So are you.”, you smiled tracing your thumb over his plush lips. He hummed pulling you in, like he could never have enough of you. His lips met yours again with a renewed passion and as the soft jazz music continued to play in the background, you were certain that these studio sessions were only going to be a lot more frequent.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099

[artofmissdemeanor]

Continuation of my fan cast for bad parents this time. Here is my concept though: Real Housewives edition. Why? A) I’m saving Jawbone for the Fantasy Teachers B) I love Izzy Rowland who is a known Housewives fan I would do anything to make her happy.

Hallariel Seacaster

Izzy of course! The drama, the shade, the wine she could bring to the role. How I believe that women Gilear so much, if she’d marry him he’d take her name and I don’t mean like her maiden name, mean Gilear is Mr. Hallariel SEACASTER now.

Sandra Lynn Faeth

Listen. Anjali Bhimani. It’s giving Fy’ra Mom Au. It’s giving Complicated Women Podcast. If there something that Anjali can do then it is a flawed and broken woman with a heart of hold.

Sklonda Gukgag

Laura Bailey my beloved. She has the range from little creatura to stone cold badass. She can do it all.

Wilma Thistlespring

If you want the bad parents polycule to be started you need the non-binary menace that isErika Ishii to do it.you need the one who made it a mission to fictionally kiss everyone on critical role. Also I’d believe she had so much fun in this role.

Gilear

Gilear is the housewife of Hallariel as is Brennan to Izzy.

But who is the Dm?

Aabria as DM

Just because I love her and she would go so extra with a Houswives Campaign… And I love her.

#dimension 20 fhjy #dimension20 #fantasy high junior year #bad parents #real housewives of elmville #fancast

[venusianelf]

I Just Feel You

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Autistic! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

Summary:  Feeling burnt out from masking, Wanda is there to comfort you and brush your hair.

Warnings: Reader has meltdowns/shutdowns, Sensory issues mention, One use of Y/n, Reader is gender-neutral

Word Count: ~1.0k

Request: would you be able to do a really sweet fluffy fic with Wanda Maximoff and an autistic reader where reader asks Wanda, “Can you feel me?” (like in the scene from Infinity War at the beginning when Wanda uses her magic to feel Vision’s stone and she says “I just feel you” before all the chaos breaks out) and Wanda uses her magic in the same way and says back “I just feel you.” i hope that made sense, it sounded cute in my head lol.

A/N: This request took me longer than I would’ve liked but I just had my birthday so that threw a wrench in my plans. Also, MOM gave me a few ideas for Wanda fics that I will eventually get around to writing. This fic also ended up including more hair brushing than I expected but whatever lol. Gif found on google. Thank you for reading!

The last few months had been extra stressful. You were swamped with missions and it was being to burn you out. You could feel yourself getting exhausted and needing to pull away. Your girlfriend Wanda, was the first to notice. She watched as you flinched away from the team’s touches and excused yourself to your shared room more often than usual. 

When she entered the room with both of your dinners she frowned as she saw you rocking back and forth a little too passionately. Gently placing the food down on a nearby table, she sat down next to you on the ground. “Rough day?” She called out as you nodded. “May I touch you?” She asked as you thought for a moment before nodding again.

She put her hand out and stroked your hair as you slowed your rocking. As she continued she began to hum a Sokovian lullaby. Gently, she began brushing your hair with her fingers. You leaned into her touch as you felt a calm wash over you.  “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as you sighed. “There’s not much to talk about. One of my missions got too stressful and I accidentally snapped at someone,” You explained as you frowned and she hummed in acknowledgment. 

“I hate having to mask whenever I’m not with you. It’s so exhausting and it makes me not feel like myself,” You continued as she frowned with you. “Then don’t mask around them. If they don’t like it, screw them,” She huffed. “It’s not that simple Wans,” You replied as she moved to look at you. “I know, but I wish it were,” She sighed as you smiled melancholically. 

“As long as you’re here with me you never have to mask around me though. That’s the best I can offer for now,” She continued as she smiled disappointed in herself for not being able to do more. “Thank you,” You replied as you leaned your forehead in to touch hers. After a few breaths, she leaned back and kissed you on the forehead before speaking, “We really should eat dinner before it gets cold though.” “Right. Do you bring that in already?” You asked as you looked around before noticing the food. “Wow, I must’ve been pretty out of it,” You chuckled before grabbing your food and cuddling up with Wanda on the couch.

A few days later and you had gone on another particularly stressful mission. This one included a loud siren and flashing light that you had to mask through even though it exhausted you. As you stepped off the quinjet you immediately headed to you and Wanda’s room. You turned on the shower before stripping out of your clothes.

You stepped under the water and sighed as you felt the water pelt off of you. You washed yourself off before standing under the water and just letting the water hit you. You vaguely recognized the sound of Wanda entering the bathroom as you lost yourself in your thoughts. 

Hearing a knock on the shower wall you turned to look at her as she smiled at you. “Room for one more?” She asked as you nodded and made room for her. She busied herself with washing herself as you zoned out again. She turned and frowned seeing you looking so far away after she had asked you a question. “Y/n?” She called as you blinked hard before turning towards her. “Yeah?” You asked as she frowned harder. “I asked you if you wanted me to wash your hair,” She repeated. “Oh, uh, I already washed my hair,” You replied as she smiled compassionately at you. 

“I figured, but I know you like how it feels when I wash your hair,” She replied as you tilted your head in contemplation. “I’m okay,” You responded after a pause. “Okay, darling,” She said before turning off the water and grabbing towels for both of you. You both dried off and changed into comfy clothes in silence before Wanda turned on some music while she brushed her hair. When she finished she turned to you and held the brush up. “Want me to brush yours?” She asked before you nodded.

She sat down on the bed near you before beginning to brush through your hair. She carefully untangled your hair as you leaned into her. The gentle brushing felt very relaxing after such a long day. It also helped that it provided just the right sensory input. When she finished up you turned around to face her and crawled into her lap. Hugging her and hiding yourself in her neck, she put the brush down and pulled you close. 

After a few minutes, you pulled back and chewed on your lip as you contemplated what to say. Wanda’s gaze softened as she watched before she brought one of her hands up to hold your face. You looked back at her when you felt her and sighed before looking down. “I know I mentioned it recently but I’m so tired from all this masking. I just don’t feel like myself, and I, I don’t know. I guess I’m asking if, if you can feel me?” You asked as you moved her hand up to your forehead. 

She smiled softly before red mist came out of her fingers and connected with your temple. You felt her sift through your mind as you watched her close her eyes. “I just feel you,” She replied after a moment. Leaning forward you gently crashed your body into hers again as she fell back on the bed. “Thank you,” You spoke up after a pause. “No problem dear,” She replied softly before you propped yourself up on your elbows over her.

“What?” She asked as you gazed at her. “Nothing, you’re just really pretty and kind,” You replied as you watched her blush and look away. “Come here goof,” She responded before pulling you in to kiss her. You sighed into the kiss as you felt her love and warmth rush through you. As you pulled back you licked your lips and Wanda raised her eyebrow. 

“You chapstick tastes good,” You answered and she hummed in response. “It’s mango flavored,” She replied before pulling you back into her embrace. Cuddling up to her, you once again buried your head in her as she began to draw patterns on your back. You felt your eyelids grow heavy before letting yourself succumb to sleep in your girlfriend’s arms.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x autistic! reader #wanda x autistic! reader #wanda maximoff x autistic reader #wanda x autistic reader #avengers x reader #avengers x autistic! reader #avengers x autistic reader #autistic!reader #autistic! reader #autistic reader #autistic y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda imagine #avengers imagine #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda fanfic #avengers fanfic #marvel fanfic

[thecreaturecodex]

Biotyrant

“Tyrant T-00″ 3D model © Capcom, accessed at the Resident Evil Wiki here

[Commissioned by @arachcobra​ as the last of their Resident Evil monsters. Like with the hunter, there are lots of variations of the tyrant that appear in the series. I went with not the first version, but the most iconic, Mr. X from Resident Evil 2. Like, I haven’t played a Resident Evil game, but I know what this character’s deal is. Chase the player character down like the Terminator, keeping them moving through the game and from getting too comfortable/complacent.]

Biotyrant CR 10 LE Monstrous Humanoid If not for its dead gray skin and great height—half again as tall as the average person—this creature could be mistaken for a human. It wears a heavy coat, partially to disguise its warped musculature and partly for protection.

The biotyrant is the culmination of mixing fleshwarping and necromancy; some infected undead and other such horrors are the failures and prototypes leading to the biotyrant. Biotyrants are powerful, unquestioning and durable super soldiers, and a single biotyrant on the battlefield is the equivalent of an entire troop of mercenaries. They lack creativity and mental initiative, but pursue their orders until destruction.

A biotyrant attacks in melee with its powerful body—its fists, knees and feet can punch holes in stone walls given enough time. If a biotyrant must clear an obstacle rather than batter through it, they can leap high into the air and land precisely where they choose, but must rest between such jumps and do not use them for rapid pursuit. They ignore small blows and can recover from large ones—fire or positive energy are needed to permanently damage a biotyrant. Although they look mostly human when uninjured, if they are injured, their bodies transform into an even more powerful form. This form has distorted claws growing from its hands, and its heart swells to pump more blood faster. This swelling makes them slightly more vulnerable to damage, and may be the key to their defeat if an enemy can remain at a safe range.

A biotyrant can speak and understand Common, but only speak when commanded to. They tend to wear heavy leather dusters and large hats to conceal their monstrous appearances from a distance. They do not carry other treasure unless they are on a mission to retrieve or deliver such an object.

Biotyrant             CR 10 XP 9,600 LE Large monstrous humanoid Init +4; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +14 Defense AC 23, touch 9, flat-footed 23 (-1 size, +12 natural, +2 armor) hp 126 (12d10+60); regeneration 5 (fire, positive energy) Fort +9, Ref +8, Will +11; +4 vs. ability damage, ability drain, death, disease, paralysis, poison, sleep, stunning DR 5/- Defensive Abilities negative energy affinity, undead fortitude; Weakness softheaded Offense Speed 30 ft., super jump Melee unarmed strike +16/+11/+6 (2d8+5) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks brawler’s strike, frenzy Statistics Str 20, Dex 10, Con 20, Int 9, Wis 17, Cha 7 Base Atk +12; CMB +18 (+20 bull rush, sunder); CMD 28 (30 vs. bull rush, sunder) Feats Alertness, Improved Bull Rush (B), Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder (B), Improved Unarmed Strike (B), Improved Vital Strike, Intimidating Prowess, Power Attack, Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +14, Climb +14, Intimidate +12, Perception +14, Sense Motive +11, Swim +14; Racial Modifier +8 Acrobatics Languages Common Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization solitary or squad (2-6) Treasure incidental (masterwork leather armor, other treasure) Special Abilities Brawler’s Strike (Ex) A biotyrant gains Improved Unarmed Strike as a bonus feat. It deals damage with its unarmed strikes equal to a brawler with a level equal to its CR. A biotyrant’s natural weapons and unarmed strikes overcome damage reduction as if they were cold iron, magic and silver weapons. Frenzy (Ex) When a biotyrant is reduced to half hit points, its body transforms. It gains a +2 racial bonus on attack and damage rolls, a -2 penalty to its natural armor, and grows two claw attacks that deal 3d6 points of damage. This transformation lasts until the biotyrant returns to full hit points. Softheaded (Ex) A biotyrant is treated as a humanoid creature for the purpose of mind-influencing effects. Super Jump (Su) As a full round action, a biotyrant can move twice its speed in any direction, including straight up, with a great jump. It ignores any difficult terrain or obstacles, and takes no falling damage from this ability. A biotyrant must wait 1 minute between uses of this ability. Undead Fortitude (Ex) A biotyrant gains a +4 racial bonus to saving throws against ability damage and drain effects, death effects, disease, paralysis, poison, sleep and stunning effects.

#resident evil #resident evil tyrant #biotyrant #mr. x #pathfinder 1e #commissions

[lavenderseve]

WIP!!

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY - TF-141 MANDATORY LEAVE SCOTLAND 6 NOV. 2022 1600

Ghost cursed as he pulled his boots on. He'd been cooped up in his room on base – how Price managed to secure them a decent place to stay on such short notice, he didn't know – since he and the others were put on leave after dealing with Hassan. He felt trapped, and needed to keep his hands busy. He made his way to the range on the base, leaving the living quarters behind. The base was relatively quiet, as Price made sure it was minimally staffed. The base was small, secluded, hardly more than a heavily guarded estate. It was hiding in plain sight, a pretty thing in the Scottish countryside. The range was a field to the far north of the estate, with the armory nearby. After digging through the armory, he retrieved his guns of choice. He picked up a M1911 pistol, and an LA-B 330 rifle. He was lost in the routine of loading the weapons, the motions almost second nature to him. That didn't stop him from catching the sound of footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Soap sauntering up to him with a mischievous smile. 

"Shouldn't you be resting that shoulder?" Ghost questioned, turning back to his guns and putting his earplugs in.

"Doesn't affect my legs," Soap retorted, leaning against the stone wall that separated them from the targets further in the field. He walked right up to Ghost and took some earplugs from the small bag Ghost had set on the stone, nonchalantly putting them in before leaning against the wall. "Besides, I haven't breathed Scottish air in years."

"Really? Figured you'd come back here on leave."

"No, nothing left for me here," Soap chuckled, but there was a note of longing there. "I'm glad to be home. Even if it's just for a little while."

Ghost made an affirmative noise before he aimed the pistol at a target 35 meters out. Soap, meanwhile, watched, and Ghost tried to ignore him. He managed to hit every shot before moving onto his sniper, with Soap giving a low whistle as quiet surrounded them.

"Decent shot. Good sidearm."

"I think you might have a bias, Johnny."

Soap snorted as Ghost pulled back the lever on his rifle before aiming down the sights.

"Do you want to grab drinks later?"

Ghost frowned beneath his mask, still looking down the sight. After a moment, he breathed out of his nose and fired. He then set the gun down and turned to Soap, searching him for any sign of deception. Was he joking? They’d known each other for only a couple weeks, with their first mission taking place only just over a week before. Their first meeting wasn’t as smooth as they’d all hoped, with Ghost finding Soap grating on the ears. Ghost dismissed his thoughts; Soap wasn’t put off by Ghost in the slightest, not by his attitude, and certainly not by his mask – he’d had the gall to tell Ghost it was cool upon their first meeting. Soap asking Ghost to get drinks wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Especially after Las Almas…

“Ghost?”

Ghost looked over, gaze cold as ever. Soap’s small frown turned into a grin, and Ghost sighed.

“Fine.”

“Great. Be ready at…1800 hours?”

“Two hours to get ready? I must be special.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes and set his gun aside.

“Will Price even let us leave base?”

“Already got clearance,” Soap chuckled.

“Confident I’d say yes?”

“No, but…figured you like me enough to try a little Scotch. And we can get some decent food while we’re out,” the Scot hummed, tilting his head. “If you’re up to it.”

Ghost shrugged, pushing down the tug in his chest. Soap was just extending the olive branch, trying to confirm that they were friends even after the mission. While Ghost didn’t make friends, Price would probably kill him if he didn’t try to get along with his fellow task force members. Soap seemed to take his silence as an affirmative, and he pushed off of the stone wall.

“I'll come to you at 1800 hours. See you then, Lt."

Soap left, and Ghost fired off a couple more rounds before he began to wrap up. He had to get ready.

Ghost looked up as someone knocked on his door. It was a few minutes short of 1800 hours, and there weren't many who would knock in the first place. He had a black hoodie and jeans on, nothing flashy, and only had a knife on his belt, expertly concealed. He opened the door to see Soap, also in civilian clothing. He wore a grey t-shirt – Ghost wondered idly if he ever got sick of grey t-shirts – and similar jeans, with a dark leather jacket over his shoulders. Soap stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Come on, Lt. I'll drive."

"What about your shoulder?"

"After seeing you drive in Las Almas, my shoulder is the least of my problems. Besides, I can drive one-handed."

Soap then had the audacity to wink before turning on his heel and walking, leaving a bewildered Ghost trailing after him. The two walked side by side, with Soap only guiding Ghost with the heat at his side. When Soap drew close all of a sudden, Ghost knew to turn the corner, and when Soap drew away, Ghost chased after the warmth.

Just to follow Soap, of course.

Nothing else to it.

#cod #mwii #mw2 #ghost #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #soap mactavish #soap #soapghost #fic recs #fic in progress #fic in the works #it'll be multichapter #they're smart but when it comes to matter of romance #theyre idiots

[spidercrusadersworld]

Sooo info dump, here’s what everyone thinks of Maya and vis versa, ALSO UPDATE, MARGOS AGE HAS CHANGED SO THAT SHE IS IN THE AGE RANGE TO BE DATING MAYA.

So ham and Maya are acquaintances

Maya is like super protective of like, innocent little kids, it’s kinda like a “you remind me of myself when I was younger, innocent and un traumatized” kinda thing. And since mayday is like… A LITTERAL CHILD. She’s obviously going to be like, on protective older sister mode around her, and Mayday loves it. Though he does constantly scold Peter b for bringing HIS LITTERAL CHILD ON LIFE THREATENING MISSIONS.

Jessica drew knows that Maya exist and that’s it, Maya thinks Jess is a stone cold badass, and really wants to advise her against, once again DOING LIFE THREATENING STUNTS FLIPS AND ECT WHILE FUCKING PREGNANT! Bad ass? Yes. Good for the babies health and development in any way? NO!

Since miles has only been around a bit, and during that “bit” he was being hunted down by LITERALLY EVERYBODY! Maya isn’t as good friends with him as she could be, all she knows is that Gwen talks about him nonstop, and says only good things so she trusts him, in fact she didn’t try to chase him down during the whole YOU ARE AN ANOMALY incident because he was actually the only spider who actually stood up to the messed up cannon event system, and made some really good points. So he has instantly urned her respect.

Maya and Miguel both hold grudges on each other, Miguel hates maya because she doesn’t approve of the spider society, constantly challenging and questioning orders before finally giving in. Maya hates Miguel because he turned his back on the people hurt by cannon events, without even trying to fix it. She hates the fact that the peoples around hers sole job is to take away the choices of innocent people, so she usually sticks to spider recruitment.

Noir is easily impressed, being from a universe in the middle of World War. He is actually one of the first people Maya was sent to recruit, but when noir saw maya, in colour he knew right away that she was from another dimension, so there was no difficulty in trying to convince him to join the spider society, noir, in Mayas eyes is a stone cold bad ass facist fighting detective who uses the coolest most dramatic slang ever to say the simplest things but is also good to talk to with personal stuff because he seems to always have a unique view on things. Maya in noirs eyes is a kid that has been through way to much shit and needs to be protected at all costs, he is amazed on how she is still so strong and optimistic about life despite her past traumas. more often than not noir will be the one talking to maya about his troubles, because he envy’s her different more optimistic perspective on things that he can be very pessimistic about. They kinda have an unspoken connection that they both know the other knows that they know that they have. But occasionally maya will go and drop by drawings of him in colour along with pencil crayons and colouring sheets, and he will drop by little thank you notes with gummy’s attached. They always go on missions to find anomaly’s together.

Hobie was the one to recruit Maya, Gwen was also there but wasn’t there for the whole explanation of cannon events, when Maya adresses her concerns over the system to Miguel’s face, she immediately has been put in hobies good books, most people go into silent shock trying to process all the information and breakdown alone, and just shut up and accept that life isn’t always fair and you can’t do both. So maya and hobie get close, they become two people who secretly talk shit about the establishment, and hobie has mad respect for that, hobie is like the cool older sibling maya always wished she had, and hobie is secretly very protective about her, and is always ready to be the shoulder to lie on. They both spend hours theorizing on how to disrupt the cannon with out breaking the world.

Peter has kinda unofficially adopted Maya, kinda like how the Stacy’s and the Parker’s where unofficial family in Gwen’s universe, the Parker’s are like the family she never had, and are always there when Maya feels lonely or overwhelmed, she often comes to MJ for advice, and comes to Peter for comfort. Peter hopes that Mayday grows up to be just like her. Peter and Maya relate in a lot of ways, in the sense of that they both know how it feels to be truly alone, and maya sees Peter as living proof that things get better. While noir goes to maya for support, and new perspective, it’s maya who goes to the Parker’s for support and a new perspective.

Gwen and maya are both very closed off people, who like to help other people open up to each other, so they are pretty much each others venting buddy. Gwen goes for maya for relationship advice about miles, and Maya goes to Gwen for relationship advice about Margo (more on that later). They both are introverts who ironically act like extroverts around each other. Maya thinks that Gwen is a stone cold badass, and might have gotten a hair cut NOT IDENTICAL but resemblant of hers, because it looks so cool on Gwen.

Pav is like the little brother maya has, him hobie and her are a squad. Pav likes to nerd out with maya about stuff she never had any one else to talk about with before. She is very protective of him also.

Margo and maya are two people who are stone cold badasses with literally anyone else, but are hopeless gay idiots around each other, they are friends, they have the same interests and values, and can finally really be themselves around each other literally the entire spider squad constantly tries to get them together but Maya is still traumatized by her last gf’s death so she is the most hesitant. They are very gay and very wholesome together.

Peni is another part of Mayas found family, and she must be protected at all costs, her and peni hangout and play Mincraft together on weekends and eat junk food.

[the-firebird69]

Edge of Tomorrow - Official Main Trailer [HD]

Is a huge number of people that die in this movie who are here and a lot of generals colonels and regions some from Florida it's like 10% of the ones remaining but all over the world they go there and they are addicted to trying to get the power and she dies in this movie she dies a lot but it comes back and they heal up fast he does a lot too and she kills him shoots him in the head it's like 10 times it goes right through three times in the middle then it turns bad and place badly doesn't remember as much and he decides to get rid of her cuz she's hurting him and they have a fight in the movie they cut out and he says shooting me is not like a favor and she says you're ruling over us and you're hurting us and she's checking to see if she can do it I'm saying reset time and he starts shooting here so she dies forever but it's getting there since a couple movies cesario is afterwards believe it or not this is a sci-fi monster through the movie and then she dies permanently in a different movie and you can't tell who she is and it's bja he kills her and she falls to her death very far and he's wanted to kill her for a long time but she's so f****** annoying about this rock thing and she won't let us get in the way of it on purpose and didn't know it was a big rock that's stupid though to make noise they're fighting rocks at the plywood and she stood up and took one and obviously people made it happen and she doesn't let it go and it's stupid and says it as an excuse to hit Tom Cruise but he's actually attacking them it's kind of this massive b**** it is a lot of them around it just stupid and they just run around as b****** but she's right these people are attacking her people and attacking her and son didn't mean to do it but she blames him but not that much Tommy f is trying to shoot him and we need to kill that guy so she gets hurt pretty good and she's actually Allison Hazel and he thinks it's that and she says oh no and it was because her sister her husband brother actually the same thing and not sister but it's her brother was jealous and had him do it most of it was him and he gets killed quite a bit because of this post and finally is out and he's a nuisance. She makes it out of this movie into cesario makes it out of there and does a couple boring movies. And she shows up in a couple of action comedies and kind of disappears a little and still try to get in and they find out she's screwing with them all the time constantly and she gets rid of her husband and it's really her brother and a long time ago and he doesn't recall what happens to her can't remember it she's not a crew she's on a cruise it's not the aliens and it is not the Terminator. It is like an avengers movie and it is the Scarlet witch and he seen it already but looks like CGI and it was a painful death and she was angry at her all the time it doesn't really have a right to be he is not her husband and she's not friendly with him she's a mean person that's gross it is gross. There's a lot of stupid people like that and she dies a horrible death at the hands of her competition it's like the worst thing that can happen this series starts and she pretty much gets hit and her brain stuff is a little the Tom Cruise gets hit a lot and he becomes a little stupid but he's fine in public like Trump no that guy becomes a stone cold idiot and gets killed in this movie like 20 times and he's the sergeant and you see him on the mission in the jump ship with him and eventually they dont come back

Olympus

#Youtube

[fuesch]

Obi-Wan Kenobi 1x05

A flashback, fuck yeah! So nice to actually see Hayden's face.

Totally irresponsible to let a kid crawl around cables when you know something is broken. I mean, how do you know there hasn't been a space marten in there, gnawing and leaving the wires exposed?! I was about to say "good thing she's smart and put on her gloves", but then I noticed they're fingerless. And there's still the problem with that pile of cables on the floor, she might have just sat on a broken one and zapped herself!

Because of the shadow it's hard to tell how many notches there are in Tala's holster, but it seems to be more than 14, so if she wanted to be exact about it, she already had redeemed herself. Though I guess she'll never feel it's enough, because she can never bring back the people she's gotten killed.

Holy shit, Reva was indeed a Jedi youngling! I can't believe she's seriously doing this job because she hates Vader! She's hunting down members of her adoptive extended family to get revenge! On one hand I like her because she's after Vader, but on the other she's not much better than him. Does she feel the same about other Jedi as she does about Obi-Wan ("Why didn't you stop him, why didn't you save us?")? If so that's really childish of her, so again very Anakin-like. Don't get me wrong, at the time those were very understandable feelings, but she grew up and now she's working for the Empire, so presumably she learned what happened back than. Of course people who are far away and unsuspecting of the coming betrayal couldn't be there to help. Not to mention how busy everyone was getting murdered or trying to avoid it. Girl, please!

NED-B protecting wounded Tala! He died to help her ;_;! Although at that point there might have been a chance to bring him back. But then stuff happened and made me even sadder. Tala! Dammit, it's that stupid redemption-death trope again.

Jedi fanboy Haja gets a lightsaber and a mission! Just temporarily, but still!

Conspiring with the Grand Inquisitor is so sexy of Obi-Wan! And honestly very practical thinking. He might not want Anakin dead, but it would be selfish to keep a murderous guy alive just because they used to be friends. And isn't that very in line with the Jedi teachings too? To let go of your attachments.

Ha, Leia finding Lola's restraining bolt within seconds.

Fuuu, Vader holding the ship! Pretty cool of him to not need a tractor beam, though. It was a decoy ship, niiiiice!

What a shame that Reva doesn't stand a chance against Vader.

And there's the old Grand Inquisitor again. Really didn't need him back, but what can you do, his return was set in stone.

So cold of Vader to repeat what he did to Reva before, just leave her there to die. Good for her though, because once again she appears to survive, because what else would be the point of her finding the communicator. Ohhhh shit. So what's next for her? I assume she's done with Vader and the Inquisitors, so that info won't reach them (If it had, things would have been difference in Episode IV, right?). Will she continue to be irrational and use this info for revenge that she had to fight Vader alone, although that is what she expressly wanted Obi-Wan not to help?

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi series #star wars

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

HEYY idk if youre taking requests but if yo uare heres my idea:

Hero and Villian out on a mission together. they end up sleeping in a cave bcz they had no where else to sleep. the weather is terribly freezing and Hero is shivering hard, while Villian doesnt seem fazed by it and is really warm, so he proposes to Hero cuddles. now, Villian and Hero are in the same sleeping bag and Villian is teasing Hero and playing with her hair while shes getting flustered.

CAN YOU ADD A LOT OF FLIRTING OF TEASING (IF YOU WANT TO OFC)

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THISSS

ANYWAYS HERE'S  A 🥐 AND HAVE A GOOD DAY

Request #46

Warning: slight dub-con touching (non-sexual).

Here you go! This one was a lot of fun to write! ^_^

And ayo thanks for the 🥐! *cromch*

~~~~

Hero wrapped her arms tightly around herself, shivering as she and Villain walked deeper inside the cave. She still couldn’t fathom how Superhero had gotten her to agree to this team-up. Her teeth chattered as she dropped her backpack on the floor and began rummaging through it, only for the worst possible realization to dawn on her.

She had forgotten her sleeping bag.

“What’s wrong, Hero?” - the villain asked with a playful smirk, his sleeping bag already rolled out as he crouched down a few steps away from it and started preparing a campfire. “A bit too chilly for you?”

The woman weakly glared at him, lips pursed in a thin line. “S-Said the ice-powered b-bastard who c-can't even f-feel the c-cold.”

The criminal gasped. “Am I really your bastard~?”

“Wh- I- I didn’t say y-you were mine!” - Hero frantically mumbled back, her face tinting red from more than just the cold.

“Oh, that’s alright.” - the man reassured before his grin turned devious. “But you’re still mine, lovely~.”

The hero sputtered, making the other laugh as he started the fire. She eventually gave up on trying to make a snarky comeback and grumpily sat down, regretting it instantly as the coldness of the ground sunk into her flesh, making her shudder.

Once the fire grew in size and lit up the cave, she scooted closer to it, gaining Villain’s attention once more. “Shouldn’t you be preparing your sleeping bag?”

The woman scowled and looked away. “M-Mind your own b-business.”

The criminal raised an eyebrow at her curiously, scrutinizing her for a few seconds before his smile sharpened. “You forgot to bring it, didn’t you?”

…

…

…

“...Yeah...”

…

…

…

Villain glanced at his bag before returning his gaze to Hero. “...Do you want to-?”

“N-NO!” - she protested, not letting him finish.

“Oh, c’mon, darling!” - the villain exclaimed back, throwing his arms out. “Are you just going to freeze then?”

Hero desperately tried to ignore the pet name and not grow any more flustered as she glared at him. “I- I’m not sharing a s-sleeping bag w-with you!”

“Why not?” - he asked, more calmly this time. “Are you just going to sleep on this shitty stone ground?”

The hero opened her mouth to respond but found herself unable to fight his logic. Her back would kill her in the morning if she even tried. And not only that, it was snowing outside the cave. There was no way she could just lay uncovered like this all night.

Shuffling sounds pulled her out of her thoughts, making Hero watch as the other crawled into his bag and got comfy. She frowned in embarrassment as Villain opened his arms in invitation and looked at her expectantly.

After one last attempt at finding a way out of this, the hero sighed and gave in. She slowly got in beside the criminal without a word, avoiding eye contact all the while.

However, Hero finally made a noise as her nemesis suddenly wrapped his arms around her, making her let out a surprised squeak. She squirmed in his grasp, futilely trying to get away. “Wh- H-Hey!”

“We need to preserve body heat, love!” - the villain purred in amusement, much too close to the hero’s ear, making her face burn even more.

“I-It’s not that cold in here!” - the woman protested, managing to turn around and face him. She pushed at his chest with all her strength to separate them, stretching the sleeping bag around them. “Also- E-Ever heard of c-consent?!”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” - the criminal wrapped his arms around her waist once more, dragging her back in. “You came into this of your own will~!”

She opened her mouth to argue further but quickly realized that she couldn’t exactly disagree with that statement. She did join him in the bag...

“I- O-Okay, yeah, sure.” - the hero mumbled, arching her back to put some distance between their faces. “But I d-didn’t say you could t-touch me!”

The villain’s features somehow became even more sly. “We’re sharing a sleeping bag, darling. How am I supposed not to come in contact with you~?”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “There’s a difference between us coming into physical contact with each other, and you- you-”

“Cuddling you?” - he filled in with a grin that rivaled a shark’s.

“Y-Yes..., that.”

…

...

…

“W-Will you let me go now?”

Villain hummed thoughtfully, taking his sweet time by trying to be suspenseful, but the look on his face told Hero the answer way before any words left him.

“Mmmmmm..., nope.”

The woman sighed, glaring at him yet again, though there was no more bite behind it. Today had already tired her out. Add all this bickering on top of it, and she’s practically ready to fall asleep on command. So, dejectedly, Hero loosened up her muscles and slumped down in the bag.

Her blush burned brighter than the sun as her nemesis purred in delight and cradled the back of her neck, bringing her close and resting her head on his chest.

“Was that so hard~?” - the criminal asked teasingly, making her groan in response, the vibrations coursing through them both. “This is so much better~!”

“I hate you...” - the hero muttered, hating how much her arms were craving to wrap around him.

“Sure thing, love.” - he replied offhandedly before placing a kiss atop her scalp, eliciting a second squeak from her and causing her to jump in shock. “I don’t doubt your hate for me at all.”

“Now,” he continued. “How about you stop being a grump and hug me back?”

“I- W-Who said I wanted to h-hug you?” - she demanded, clenching her fists at her sides in an attempt to control herself and not-

“You did.” - he answered with the most shit-eating grin a person could muster.

Hero, meanwhile, got the record for the brightest blush in human history. “I- I d-”

“You said that out loud, Hero~.” - the man purred lowly and directly into her ear. The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. “So, are you going to stop playing dumb and just admit it?”

“A-Admit w-what...?” - the woman choked out, frozen in place.

She felt his wolfish smile brush against the shell of her ear. “That you like me~.”

“I-” - Hero’s words died in her throat. She had to bite down on her bottom lip as Villain trailed a hand up her back, barely stopping herself from whimpering at the feeling.

“Yes~?” - he pressed.

Unable to utter a sound, the hero lay there considering her options for a dozen seconds. And with terrible embarrassment, she slowly unglued her arms from her sides and wrapped them around the villain.

She desperately tried not to shudder again as her nemesis’s laugh echoed through the cave before the two of them peacefully succumbed to slumber.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #writeblr #hero #villain #request #story #short story #heroes and villains #hero x villain community #writing community

[hihihi-ilovbts]

Pairing: Agent!Jungkook x scientist!reader

Theme: Assassin au, agent!jungkook, doctor!reader, angst, sci-fi

Summary: Jungkook had one job before he took off to hide, one mission to fulfill so he could leave knowing he did something he could be proud of, but here he was, his hands frozen and his heart pounding.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

'One last time,' He reminded himself as he stared down at the laboratory. He had accepted one last job, he'd get this done and leave, he'd never come back.

His backpack sat at his feet, once the job was done he'd vanish, never to be seen again, like a shooting star in the night sky. He didn't think this job would be much of a problem.

He knew the plan like the back of his hand. Go inside, kill the mad scientist inside and leave, no turning back, no touching anything, no smelling anything, THAT WAS IT. It would be a piece of cake for him.

He took a deep breath, peering into the binoculars, he could see movement behind the translucent windows and curtains, this was going to be easy, almost too easy, Jungkook thought, slinging the backpack over his shoulder.

He needed to get this done quick and simple, there was no time for games and entertainment. He climbed onto the railing of the tall building, the wind whipping around him, before lowering himself onto the air conditioning unit underneath. The metal creaked under his weight.

He prepared himself for the leap, crouching low. He hoped no one from the busy street would look up at him. They'd call the cops for sure and that would cause problems and unnecessary drama.

He focused on the window sill of the laboratory, scanning all the possibilities that could put him and the mission in danger. He leaped forward, using all his body weight to angle himself towards the window, swift and confident.

His skilled fingers grabbed onto the concrete, his feet trying to find a grip against the stone wall. He held his breath when he heard glass breaking inside. He was sure he had heard someone moving around but the traffic below didn't allow him to hear clearly.

He waited, quite as a mouse, his arms straining to hold him upright. A few more minutes and his limbs would give out and he'd fall to his inevitable death, but that was just him being dramatic. He wasn't going to die, maybe break a leg or an arm but not DIE.

He strained his ears for any more movement, anything to indicate that someone was inside. When he didn't pick up any noise other than the honking of vehicles below, he pulled himself onto the window sill.

He examined the pedestrians below, making sure no one was looking at him before turning his attention to the lock that prevented him from entering the mad scientist's lair. But this wasn't his first rodeo, he had seen more complex lock than this.

He pulled out his swiss knife, sliding it between the window and the window frame, he could feel the latch. He push and pulled for a few moments before the window gave way. He stepped inside the room, tripping immediately. He looked at the obstacle, a seemingly invisible thread, small and indistinguishable, his eyes widened when he realized what it was but it was too late by the time he covered his nose with his hands, the toxic gas making him dizzy and nauseous. He could feel his head throb and his legs give out as his body succumbed. All he saw was a pair of black boots before darkness enveloped his senses.

She stared at the bulky, heavy as fuck dude who currently occupied her only chair. His arms and legs, firmly tied to the chair.

The floor was cold and uncomfortable but it was the only place she could sit. She never thought her trap would work like this, the gas wasn't even supposed to be that strong and it must have been expired by now.

She held the Glock firmly, ready to shoot if he posed a threat to her. Doctor Bang had warned her about this but she didn't think it would happen. At least not till now.

The room was silent other than the squeak of the lab rats and the buff guy's heavy breathing. She hoped he didn't die, she didn't know how to dispose of a body other than Alkaline hydrolysis and that would take too much effort and a lot of time and she didn't have all that.

She had hooked him up to an iv bag and placed a neck pillow around him after unarming him, his holster and array of knives and daggers lay in a pile on the other side of the room but he was still a threat. She didn't find any identification on him, no phone or card to indicate who he was and she didn't have good enough technology to find out who he was just by his face.

Not paying much attention to her growing stomach, she started at the guy, his hair was made up very fancily for someone on a mission and he didn't seem like the military type, they had buzz cuts and didn't dress up all emo like this dude. She wondered who he was and who had sent him as she waited for him to stir.

She didn't think he'd be out for so long but the human body was a strange thing, each different from the other, each person had different limits. She considered splashing him with some water but that would be rude and she didn't want him to be angry with her.

She was reassembling all the rings on her fingers when Jungkook started to gain consciousness. She leaped to her feet, getting closer to him but not close enough that he could hurt her in any way.

"Are you okay," the girl asked as soon as Jungkook regained his senses, he focused on her, the white lab coat engulfed her figure and the smell of chemicals clouded his nostrils.

He sneezed loudly and the girl seemed to be frightened out of her wits, jumping a few feet away from him. "ARE YOU OKAY DUDE," She inquired again, much louder this time, "YES!" Jungkook answered, trying to move his wrist when he noticed the restrains.

"Who are you?" The girl asked, peering down at him, the Glock wasn't missed by him. "Justin," he lied, he was a professional at it now, he was sure the girl wouldn't be able to tell.

And who are you?? Jungkook demanded, he had been told that he'd meet a certain Dr.Bang, a middle-aged, grey-haired mad scientist, not a girl who seemed to be younger than him and the size of a chihuahua.

"Why are you here?" She asked, ignoring his question.

"Will you let me out?"

"Not till you answer me"

"I'm not talking either then"

"Fine then, you can stay over there and I'll stay over here"

The room sank into silence after that, none of them saying a word but maintaining aggressive eye contact, waiting for the other to crack first.

The girl was the first to crack under the pressure.

"Who sent you?"

Silence

"How did you even get near the window, we are on the 7th floor"

Silence

"Are you a bad guy?"

Silence

"Wow, that must be all the training talking"

Silence

"Did you know you drool when you sleep?"

"No, I don't," Jungkook bit his tongue as soon a the words left him. It was an involuntary reaction and he should've known better.

"You do, see you've got drool on the side of your face," she said, pointing vaguely at his left cheek.

Silence

She blatantly stared at him and jungkook couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious.

"Could you stop staring, it's uncomfortable," he said, trying to move himself a little.

"No can do"

Jungkook signed, he didn't know what to do, he wasn't prepared for something like this and this girl wasn't giving anything away.

He looked around the room, taking in the long steel table and the various sizes of test tubes and equipment, there was broken glass near the window he had entered through, he assumed that was where the gas had come from.

"Did you make that thing?" He asked, staring at the broken glass, the girl looked at the broken shards, contemplating her answer before nodding, "yes, it was a long time ago," she answered, she didn't seem uncomfortable answering that. He waited for her to add something, anything, any kind of information to that but she didn't.

"Are you here to hurt me?" She asked, gaining her confidence back.

"Is there any reason I should hurt you?" He countered, he didn't know how else to answer her, she wasn't the person he was supposed to end but he wouldn't hesitate to hurt her if he had to.

"What will make you hurt me?" She voiced out, his silence scared her. She didn't want to get hurt, she hadn't done anything wrong, all she had done was follow orders and make what she was told to, she had never broken the rules and never rebelled.

She didn't know why anyone would want her life, maybe he wasn't here for her, she thought, trying to convince herself.

"Are you Dr.Bang by any chance?" He asked, breaking the silence. Her eyes widened at the name of her mentor.

"No, he's dead, has been for a while now," Yn answered. Jungkook's heart dropped to his stomach at the new piece of information, sweat forming on his brow, was this a trap, had he been lured here?

Did they find out his plan? Did they want to finish him just like that?

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