#still so mad about this so many years later sobs

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door. 

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.” 

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin. 

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal. 

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.” 

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch. 

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

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[larluce]

Arthur travels back in time to save Merlin (from becoming a tree) AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 (You're here) , PART 3

The king of Camelot goes to visit his magic tree before his next battle. This isn't new. He always visits it. But it will be the last time he does it.

Arthur: (caressing the bark of the tree with a hand)It's finally time. I'm sorry it took so long. (sighs) And I'm sorry I have to do this.

He knows he's being selfish. Camelot is better than ever, his people is happy and yet he's going to war, risking this era of peace. A war he knows he won't come back from. But it's necessary.

Gwen: (arriving) Arthur...

Arthur: I won't change my mind, Guinivere

Gwen: I know. I just want to understand. Arthur, why? The price is too high and the chance it might work too slim. And even if it does work, you are risking that everything you know, everything you built will never happen.

Arthur: It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can prevent so many things from happening, not only Merlin's fate, but Gawain's, Elyan's, Lancelot's-

Gwen: Don't pretend you're not doing this just for him, Arthur, I'm not a fool.

Arthur: ...

Gwen: He wouldn't want you to do this. And you know it.

Arthur: Yeah, well, he didn't care about what I wanted when he made that stupid deal.

It's been ten years since Merlin saved his life and was cursed to be a tree forever as a payback. He was now a majestic beautiful tree in the royal garden and the most valuable national treasure in Camelot due to its magical properties: It could give fruits with the ability to cure all ills and the most serious wounds, but also could give ones with the most letal poison. Its wood was the finest. Once it let some branches fall for its king before an important battle and the weapons that were made with them are still as good as new to this day. Though Arthur did his part, he knows Camelot probably would not have obtained the title of the greatest, richest and most prosperous kingdom if it weren't for his Merlin.

However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. Like every treasure it was also coveted by everyone who wanted to use it for their own selfish purposes. Kingdoms envious of his power sent spies to try to steal its fruits, its branches and even to try to cut it down to leave Camelot defenseless. Others even tried to invade Camelot just to posses the magic tree, but Camelot's army was the strongest in all Albion so they never could and soon they stopped trying.

There was a time they almost got too close though. Once Arthur found a man holding an ax stuck deep in Merlin's trunk. He has gone so mad with fury, he almost beat the man to death if it weren't because his knights stopped him before he made the final blow. He was still livid after that, but he let Gwen handle the man's trial, because he knew he wouldn't be reasonable in the state he was in. In the end the man was sentenced to beheading. It was what the law decreed since touching the King's tree was by law an act of treason. The king who sent the spy had to make a public apology and give monetary compensation to avoid a war. Arthur did make sure the spy's head was cut of with his own ax though. Later, when he was alone with his tree, Arthur cried because he almost lost Merlin again. The king apologised to him over and over again between sobs and cried until he fell asleep at the tree's roots.

It was then when it hit him. One day he would die and there won't be anyone to protect Merlin from greedy people who will only use his power for their own gains. Merlin would be at his new owner's mercy and the one after that, and the one after that, forever without being able to do anything about it. The mere thought made Arthur sick to his stomach.

No, he won't allow that to happen.

Gwen: (with teary eyes) Aren't we happy?

Arthur: Don't say that. You have always made me happy.

Gwen: (laughs weakely) But he made you happier, didn't he?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You never told me. Which were Merlin's last words.

Arthur: I love you... he said I love you.

Gwen: Oh... (smiles) I get it now. Alright I'll help you. Just promise me something.

Arthur: Anything.

Gwen: Don't feel bad if you can't prevent other people from dying. In fact, you don't have to do it. Just save Merlin.

Arthur: But-

Gwen: No, you have done so much for this kingdom and sacrifice so much. (cradling his face) You owe us nothing and you owe me nothing, alright? Just be happy.

They hugged each other tightly and they share their last kiss and I love you before Arthur finally went to bloodiest battle he'll ever had in his life. And, after killing 100 hundred enemy soldiers with his blade, the king of Camelot died at the early age of forty.

Later Percival and Leon retrieve the king's corpse and bring it before their queen who doesn't share a tear despite being broken inside. She orders for his late husband to be buried next to his tree instead of burned in a pyre, proclaming that's what the king would have wanted. The real reason however is more complex than that.

The night after the funeral, she secretly brings the druids her husband consorted for years to the royal garden for the ritual to be made. Before the tree, as was planned, is the Ancient Round Table of the Ancient Kings.

Druid1: A sword with the blood of 300 hundred man.

Gwen: (gives excalibur to him)

Druid2: Three dragon scales.

Percival: (gives them to her)

Druid3: And the corpse of a king. We have everything.

Leon: Will this really work?

Druid1: This ritual had only worked once in the times of the ancient kings and only because it was done by three of the most powerful sorcerers of that time. We are not that powerful.

Druid2: However, we have a great magic source (she points the tree). So it might work.

It worked! That's Arthur's first thought when he opens his eyes again and finds himself in his room 20 years younger.

....

HIII!! First of all I want to thank you all for giving the first post so much love! I was truly shocked because I didn't think the AU was that good, so I'm really glad you liked it. I hope this kind of sequel/prequel? was of your liking too.

I don't think I'm going to make this a full fic yet, but I can make snippets like this about this AU until then.

What else would like to see happening in this AU? Let me know in the comments or reblogs ;)

#merlin bbc #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin fic #merlin fanfic #merthur fic #merlin prompt #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur prompt #merthur fic rec #merthur fanfic #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

[bangchansgirlsblog]

i was wondering if we could have an argument or really angsty fanfic kind of i nEED to be hurt lolll

Keeping up with the Bhangs

Not the angstiest them all but yeah.

Warning: Angst, fighting, broken arm

Summary: Chan is a billionaire who can’t seem to stop demanding so much from his wife.

Pairing: Chan x reader.

**

"Chan I'm so mad at you," she exclaimed as she walked out their bathroom. It was as big as 4 bathrooms combined but better and more expensive.

She made her way into their walk in closet where Chan continued to put on his tie obviously not bothered by Y/n's rant.

"Baby, can we not do this right now? I have work right now," he put on his shoes and grabbed the jacket that Y/n had neatly ironed for him.

This annoyed her so much because why was he being so dismissive about the situation. He had always listened to her.

"But Chan, you can't just expect me to drop everything I have to come with you later," she crossed her arms together and glared at him as he walked up and down their room now trying to get everything together for the day.

Yes, even tho he was the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world he still chose to be in time for work so he could be able to set an example.

"Christopher? Are you even listening to me?"

The tension in the room was high.

"I'm not Y/n!" He snapped turning to look at her, "I have work, I have meeting, I have things to do! You having to put on a pretty dress and smiling for one of the biggest events of the year shouldn't have to make me hustle like this. So please," he rubbed his temples and grabbed his phone from the table stand.

His phone was blowing up. Probably all calls from the office or his assistant. God, his assistant. The thought of her made Y/n skin crawl. Anger was  slowly fueling her outburst.

"Chan you know Joon-Ho has soccer all day and you already told me to go to it without you. Then Ji has a play. You want me to drive back home get dressed for a night out?"

The kids were downstairs watching tv while getting ready for their day. Their usual routine set by Y/n who chose to be THAT kind on mum. You know? The pretty, laid back, almond mum? It was working great for the kids.

"God! Why do you have to be so difficult. Fine. I'll just go with my assistant," he didn’t mean it but he was so angry he couldn’t hold back. He knew how much Y/n hated his assistant. How much she got jealous whenever she was around.

She frowns and the anger she initially felt, slowly melted. She couldn’t speak. She was hurt by his words.

"Chan that's not what I mean-"

"Then what? What do you possibly want from me?" He growled, "this conversation is over."

He grabbed his laptop bag and left her to stand there alone. The rising sun sending sun rays through their big windows. Her body slowly shock as each sob left her mouth.

This wasn't there first argument. They had argued the night before about the same thing but this time Chan was really laying it on her.

Chan always tried to understand her. He always listened but recently the more his business became successful the more rough and snappy he became and it wasn't helping her at all because having 3 children and one on the way was heavy.

Yes they had nanny's, yes they had drivers, yes they had maids but she didn't like to bother them. She liked doing things by herself because at the end of the they were her kids. She didn't know what evil intentions these workers had against her or her babies.

**

"Mama!" The voice of her littlest rung through her ear. Her scream making her body completely go numb.

"Soo-min? Babygirl? What happened?!" She gasped finding the little one on the ground holding her wrist.

"Mama!" She cried and jumped into her arms seeking comfort from Y/n.

"Soo-min, you have to tell mama what's wrong," Y/n panicked. How could she be so blind. She turned her back for one second.

"Mama it hurts!" She screamed once again in agony as she still held onto her wrist. Y/n's heart skipping so many beats.

It was only 10 minutes till end of the game. Why did this have to happen to her? Her brain was trying to process the situation. Trying to figure out what to do. The nanny was quick to be by her side trying to help in any possible way.

"Let mama see princess," she begged her little one, "did you fall down?" She questioned the crying girl.

"Mummy, can I go with the girls before the the play?" Ji-Yeon, their middle child, asked her.

"Not right now Ji, your sister’s hand is hurt-" she was shitting it down but a tantrum began. She couldn’t handle everything that was going on at once.

"But mum! You never let me go play! I wish daddy was here instead of you!" This stung. This hurt Y/n. This made her feel like the worst person in the world. Her husband hated her, she couldn't take care of her kids and they hated her. Her mental breakdown was slowly building up.

"Can you behave right now? I can't deal with you bratty attitude right now,"

"I hate you!" She barked back.

"Ji-Yeon. Do not try to tempt me right now or so help me God. Go sit over there and keep quiet or you're grounded."

Although she was in the middle of a tantrum the girl was scared, so scared she got up and made her way to the table where she continued to sulk.

"Soo-min, let mama see okay?" The little girl handed her mum the little hand. Her hand was so tiny that Chan loved to call it a baby paw because of the shape in made when it was in a fist.

Her wrist didn't look okay, it looked broken and that only made Y/n's anxiety grow larger but she kept her cool and continued to carry the little one to the nanny.

"Take her to the car right now, I'll get the rest of the kids. I think she broke her wrist. Please inform Chan to meet us at the hospital," the nanny agreed and slowly carried the crying girl.

Y/n rushed over to the coach and teacher to apologize for her abrupt leave. She explained to them the situation and told them that their other driver and nanny would be there to pick up her oldest son. She made sure security was with him before kissing him goodbye as he continued to play on with his game.

**

It was 6:30 when Chan run through the door. He was panicking and his tie was loosened around his neck.

"Is she okay? What happened?" His breathing was quick but his body relaxed once he saw his wife.

"How could you let this happen Y/n?" He barked at her.

"I was just trying to collect everything so-"

"She's a kid! A 4 year old. You guys should be paying close attention to her. Where's the nanny? Tell her she's fired, I can't believe you right now,"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? Who takes care of the kids on a daily? Me! Who goes for all their shows and their sports events? Me! Who's there to pick up the pieces whenever you leave home? Me! So don't you dare come in here and say it's my fault Chan," hot tears poured from her eyes and she glared at him. He was taken back. Everyone in the room was.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault…” he looked at the floor. Regret was eating him alive.

"I want a divorce Chan." Chan didn't allow her to even get the chance to walk away before he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the private hospital lounge. He wasn't going to have this conversation out there where nurses and doctors were watching.

Just like the kpop world worked, the Korean business world worked the same. Dispatch and everyone was ready for the biggest millionaires to crash and fall. Everyone was waiting for the latest scandal or drama and this was not going to look good for him.

"What do you mean you want a divorce?" He asked in disbelief. Her brain felt foggy and she felt exhausted.

"Chan, we're always fighting. You treat me like shit. You barely listen to me. You think I'm some baby making machine. All you care about is our image!" She exclaimed gasping for air, "I wish you never became rich, I want the old you back,"

His hands wrapped around her instantly. No hesitation. Her scent filled his nostrils and his body automatically relaxed. De ja vu was hitting him hard.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say. "Let me fix this, please my love?"

"C-Chan I can't. I can't do this anymore," she cried harder. A panic attack slowly passing by.

"Shhh, hey? Look at me. We're okay. I will fix this. I love you so much." He whispered while leaving kisses on her forehead.

"Can we finish up from the hospital and talk at home? Please my love,"

"Fine," she sighed, "but I'll go use the bathroom to wash up."

So she did, she washed her face and made her way to their daughters room where she found Chan goofing around with Soo-min. The poor little girl was so intrigued by her father that she forgot all about the bandaid they were wrapping her up with.

"Mum, are we still going to my play?" She asked softly. Y/n had totally forgot. How could she forget?

"Yes my love, let me talk to your dad really quickly, go get your bag," she giggled and quickly grabbed her bag, "can we stop by Yoona's house mama?"

"Yes princess, we can but only if you behave," the little girl smiled and quickly sat in the chair waiting for her mum to finish having a conversation with her dad.

"Chan, I have to take Ji-Yeon for her play, I totally forgot. Can you finish up here? I'll meet you at the house in like 2 hours,"

"Yeah sure, are you sure you wanna go for the play? You don't look too good love, I can go instead..."

"'No, I've got it. Once your finished up here, I called the chef to cook her some soup. Just feed it to her and then put her to sleep," she instructed Chan, "also make sure when you warm her bottle it's room temperature, she doesn't like it too hot or too cold. Also when you put her in bed you have to cuddle her Chan only for 5 minutes and she'll be out like a light."

Chan admired her as she wrote down the instructions down on the paper. Watching her be so controlling and being such a good mother was low key turning him on.

"Babe, we will be okay. I've done this before-"

"Yeah like 3 years ago before you became mr boss man," she teased her and quickly gave Soo-min a kiss on the cheek.

"Mummy loves you princess, I'll see you in a bit," the little girl waved at her mum and continued to admire the pink plaster that wrapped around her hand.

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids as boyfriend material #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagines #bangchan angst #bangchan fluff #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #skz angst #skz x y/n #skz stay #skz x you

[marvelous-slut]

Rekindle - Opie Winston x Reader

Y’all I’ve underestimated just how sexy Opie is. Like, stop for a minute and look at him. I’ve literally had this in my draft forever and I’m glad to finally get her out.

Warnings: MINORS, as always DNI! 18+ ONLY! Smut head folks.

_________

You turn the engine to your car off as you finally made it to the familiar garage. Teller Morrow. It had been at least 10 years since you’d gotten out of Charming and never looked back, even sitting in the garage brought back too many memories for your brain to count. Most were horrible memories, your father Otto being arrested right outside the club house/garage. Your mother coming in late into the night, drunken and loud. Knocking over things she didn’t need but wouldn’t throw away. If she didn’t come home, you knew she was right inside the club house sobbing for your father who was constantly in and out of prison. The more you thought about the horrible memories, the more pissed off you felt yourself becoming. You decided it was time to go in and face the members of SAMCRO, find out exactly what had happened to your mother. A part of you figured she’d gotten killed due to something with the club, or maybe one of her porn costars had beaten her to death. Whatever it was, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel one hundred percent sad about it. Your parents were never really parents, who could be when they were so invested in the club life?

You walk in to the club house, not much has changed since 10 years ago. The same smell of pussy and booze, the same mug shots hanging on the wall with the exception of a few who you assumed to be members. One struck you, taking it in as you looked at the familiar face. Harry Winston.

“Jesus Christ Ope.” You say softly, before you have any time to think about what he did or if he was still in, a voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“Well look at who’s here!” Piney, it was so good to see him. Even if he looked sick with the oxygen tubing sticking out of his nose. You walk over to him, opening your arms for his warm embrace. “How you doin’ kid?” He asks, smiling largely.

“I’m good Piney, how’d you end up with that shit hanging from your nose?” He chuckles deeply, letting out a cough once he’s done.

“Lung issues, too many Marlboros I guess.” You laugh and he pats you on the back, before you can ask any questions about Opie you get your answer. He stands outside the door of the chapel, leaning up against it and seeming like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Seeing you wasn’t something he was looking forward to like the rest of the club.

“Well, glad to see you made it out for someone’s funeral.” He speaks coldly before walking out of the club house completely. Piney can see the discomfort on your face and speaks up.

“Ignore him, he’s been a real prick since Donna died.” Donna, it had been two years since she passed. He was still mad about that? You sigh and shake your head. You didn’t attend Donnas funeral and maybe you should have, maybe you should have been there to support Opie. He’d called you after it happened, drunken and slurring almost every word that come out of his mouth. You felt it was disrespectful to Donna to come to her funeral and comfort her husband, who you dated for years and considered your first love. It didn’t feel right no matter what way you thought about it, so you didn’t come. That was the last time you’d heard from him until today.

“I guess death can do that to a person. I’ll see you later Piney, I have to go get started looking for a dress to bury mom in.” He hugs you once more, this time a little more tight than before.

“He still cares about you kid. He loved Donna, but he loved you too.” He whispers, making you go cold. You break the hug and smile at him softly, heading out the club house doors as fast as you could. Hoping Piney didn’t notice the grief written all over your face.

__________

You had been through many challenges before, but trying to find your mother an outfit for her funeral that wasn’t completely revealing may be something you weren’t able to do. She’d turned the house into an even bigger dump than it was before you left, ashtrays filled to the brim with butts, beer cans and bottles scattered everywhere. Clothes thrown to the side, on the tv, in the floor. It was a wreck. You prayed it wouldn’t be yours to deal with now. You move a pile of books on the bed to the side to lay out what clothing looked appropriate to bury someone in when a stack of photos falls out. You pick them up, looking at each one. A photo of you and Otto on his Harley, you were maybe 6 years old in the photo. It made you smile, even if there was a lot of shit memories connected to your father you did know he loved you. You knew it was shitty not to call or even visit him, if they’d even let you. You look to the next picture, feeling like someone had just hit you in the chest. A photo of you and Opie on your senior prom night.

“God, my hair. My face.” You say softly, laughing at how much different you looked. Your eyes roam over to Opie, he was much smaller than he is now. Hardly any hair on the poor boys face compared to now. You sigh, folding the picture and sticking it in your pocket. Maybe you’d get to show it to him, if he lets go of the issue of Donnas funeral before you leave. The knock at the door takes you away from reminiscing. You’re in shock at who stands behind the white, dirt covered door.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for earlier. I guess I’m bad at letting shit go.” Opie says, he leans against the frame of the door, before you can suggest for him not to do it. “Can I come in?” You move out of the door way, noticing him looking around the disaster of a house.

“It’s a fuckin’ dump. Luann couldn’t keep a house up worth a shit apparently.” You say, he laughs a little bit. “There’s no way I’m staying here. Guess I’ll get a hotel till I go home.” You say, moving around some clutter, scared to sit on the couch even after it’s gone.

“If you need a place to crash, I’m sure the club wouldn’t mind if you stayed at the house. My house is pretty empty too, wife being dead and all.” You weren’t sure how to react to the last comment, so you didn’t acknowledge it.

“Thanks Ope. I found this going through moms stuff.” You hand him the photo, as soon as he looks at it he laughs. You feel your chest tighten when he does, even after all the years apart he still had an affect on you.

“Jesus, look how fuckin’ scrawny.” He says, you remember the first time he’d ever put his kutte on, how it was so baggy on him. He’d definitely grew into it over the years. “You were pretty, still are.” He says, you can’t help but smile at the comment.

“Don’t kiss my ass just cause you were being a shit head.” He grins, knowing you were half right. He felt awful for being so cold toward you, especially this being the chance to let you know that he’s never forgotten you. How you’d haunted him nearly everyday for the last 10 years.

“Listen, I gotta get going. Got some shit with the club that needs handled. If you need to crash at my place, you know where I am.”

“Thanks Ope. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you later?” He nods his head and closes the door behind him. You place your back to the door, hanging your head down. It shouldn’t be this way, the high school sweet heart still having some stupid affect on your mind years later. You look up, opening your eyes to a large rat sitting in front of you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You scream, grabbing the dress you’d found for your mother and slamming the door behind you.

__________

The porch light is barley shining when you step up to the door. You knock on the door, not having to wait long before it’s answered. Opie stands in the door way, only in a towel. Hair still wet from showering. You feel your eyes widen, looking him up and down. You knew it was obvious even if you had been praying it wasn’t.

“Sorry, didn’t think you’d stop by.” He says, moving out of the door way. You step in, the place was much different than your mothers. Clean, neat, no reason to be scared of being on the couch.

“So you just answer the door for anyone half naked?”

“Just the pretty ones.” You feel your face heat up at the comment. Embarrassed that you’re blushing like this. You place a hand on his thigh, rubbing it gently.

“Ope, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” You say softly, he brings your head up to face him. Looking into his eyes makes your heart go faster than it had in years. He places his hand on the side of your cheek, caressing it gently.

“It’s okay.” Before you can respond, you feel yourself move closer, kissing him. He moves his hands to your hips as you stratal him, gripping them tightly. You run your fingers through his damp hair, the last time this had happened was when the two of you were 19 years old, what you’d thought would be the last time you ever got to be this close to him. You break the kiss and head down to the towel that covered him, uncovering his hardened cock. Turns out, everything about him had grown some in ten years. You lower your head down, running your tongue up his cock as he moans out. One thing you love about Opie, he never was afraid to be loud. He’d let you know how good you made him feel. You wrap your lips around his cock, moving your head up and down. Slowly, trying to get him going and eager for you. It worked very fast, he grabs a fist full of your hair, tugging it gently trying to get you to pick up the pace. It was hard to take him in your mouth without choking, you hadn’t been blessed with no gag reflex like most. Taking him little by little however, was driving him insane.

“Too big for you to handle now?” He asks, you can just in-vision the smirk plastered across his face. You decide to take it as a challenge, taking him until he hits the back of your throat. You hold in your gags, but the tears forming in your eyes can’t hide that you’re struggling with taking every inch of him.

“Fuck.” He mutters out, leaning his head up to watch the sight in-front of him. A sight that as much as he was ashamed to admit, thought about from time to time even while he was married to Donna. You pull your mouth off of him, slowly, letting him feel every movement as you do. He groans out, as you straighten yourself up, he’s pulling at the waistband of your shorts. Silently, he begs you to take them off. You begin to unbutton them and he helps get your underwear and shorts off swiftly. Eager to be inside of you. You reach your hands down to discard your shirt before you slide yourself down onto him. Your walls stretching with every inch you take of him. Moaning out, you rest your hands on his chest. He places his hands back onto your hips, helping you move and watches your face as you adjust to him.

“Oh my God. Ope.” You whimper out, moving yourself faster and more steady onto him. A hand finds its way to your breast, grasping it firmly. He moves his hand farther up to your mouth, he drags his thumb over your lips slowly. You open your mouth far enough for him to graze it over your teeth. Before you know it, you’re flipped onto your back. The feeling of him reinserting himself makes you whine out, arching your back as he picks up a steady pace. You turn your head, closing your eyes and taking in the feeling of pleasure that’s overwhelming your senses. He uses one of his hands to turn your head back to him, holding it there.

“I want you to look me in the eyes. I want to see how good I make you feel.” The words make you even wetter than you were, which at this point you’d thought was impossible. He feels your nails digging into his back, using your hands to pull him closer to you. Looking at your face and the way you tightly had your legs wrapped around him, he knew you were close to cumming. He speeds up, thrusting into you faster and a touch harder than before.

“Fuck! Ope-“ You’re unable to get another word out before you feel yourself tighten around him. You grab him, pulling him down and smashing your lips against his. You grind against him, making sure to ride the orgasm as long as possible. Feeling you grind against him sends him over the edge, he groans out as he releases into you. You would thank God later for the birth control pills, but right now that was the last thing on your mind. He pulls himself out of you, laying down beside you as you both try to catch your breaths. You try to make the shaking in your legs stop, but it’s useless. You decide to just lay there until you don’t feel shaky or hazy.

“So much for small talk huh?” You ask, he chuckles and stretches out his arm for you to come over. You do so, resting your head on his chest. The feeling feels so good, so familiar and you hate to think about it ending. Suddenly dreading going back home.

“Yeah. Maybe we can do that in the morning.” He says, kissing the top of your head.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader #opie winston #opie winston x reader #sons of anarchy smut #sons of anarchy imagine #opie winston smut #opie winston imagine #soa smut

[justimaginescenarios]

Warning: NSFW

After the first time you did it raw, you weren't comfortable or you were afraid of getting pregnant if both kept going. You suggested using condoms.

Zaraki Kenpachi

He threw it away at the time, and called it "rubbish bags". As a man, he wanted to do it raw and flooding you in his sperm was his proud achievement.

Because of that, you banned him from sex until he used condoms. The 11th division quaked under Kenpachi's mad spirit.

Days after, he was not still in the mood, since you ignored his existence.

One day, he went crazy enough to kidnap you from your mission or your division (if you worked in another division) in front of other's eyes.

"Why are you so stubborn?" He asked.

"It's you." You are under his giant figure, fearlessly talked back. Even how mad he is, he never hit you. "... Because it was uncomfortable… when you cum in me…"

Moreover, since he was always too rough in the progressing, you bled many times. The condoms would help you reduce the damage. You explained to him.

The large man hesitated. He was worried about your condition. He acknowledged that.

After all, he decided to use condoms. But you never expected that the rage of having sex was up, since you did not bleed anymore. His worries were blown away either.

As expected of the most brutal man in Soul Society, the condoms sometimes were torn off, his sperm found the way getting into you.

Muguruma Kensei

He spent a hundred years in the living world, the condom in his hand was not so unfamiliar. Unlike Kenpachi, he was not stubborn in the kind of thing called "Being a real man". Because you were not in the best shape, he did not want to force you. He could wait until you are ready again.

Using condoms was not a bad idea. It may cause him discomfort, since he as well wanted to feel you around him, not the plastic.

When you told him, you two could do it naturally again. He hesitated a bit.

"I'm fine, Kensei. You hold yourself all the time."

He was explored. He wanted you so bad. He was harsh sometimes, then gentle again. He tried not to injure you, if not he had to use condoms for a long time again.

He was still a man, but could hold back for his s/o.

Hirako Shinji

A mischievous man. He said he was okay with it, but his facial expressions showed a difference.

"You really wanna use this when we do it."

"Shinji," there was a warning in your voice "stop playing with it." You glared at the blonde man who was blowing a condom balloon.

"But, y/n, you'll miss my-"

"Shut up!"

Raw dick he would say that if you let him finish his words. Before you left, you didn't forget to throw him a last warning about doing the do raw next time was the last time he could see his dick.

You thought using condoms was the best solution, but you never expected your man could do things to you.

He obeyed your command, even in force play. He had never touched you since he used condoms, even his fingers were in the condoms.

"You bastard…" you sobbed in anger and frustrated when he was fingering you.

"I don't want to lose my fingers, too, y/o."

"Shut up… take it off..."

"But you said-"

"Shinji, please…" you hid your ashamed face under your arms "... I miss you…"

A big wide smile spread to his ears.

"I told ya~" he leaned on you, huskily voiced into your red ear "you'll miss me."

He just rebelled for fun. Later, he used condoms as he thought about you sincerely.g

Urahara Kisuke

"Quit your acting, Kisuke."

You glared at his surprised face. In a second he was back to his stupid smile. This man acknowledged your thought, but always waited for you to speak out first.

"My bad, y/n."

Things went smoothly at the beginning. But then, he tried some weird shapes. Thus, you even begged him to just do it raw, because you were scared of them.

"It's just a condom, you know?"

He stretched a weird one in his fingers.

"I know!" You roared. You wanted the normal condom, not those damn ones "... But, I don't like it… don't use it..."

"I just have this."

You cursed. He did it on purpose. He lured you into his trap again. You can't withdraw or step forward either.

"Can we do without condoms today?"

At least he did not force you to the end. You groaned in your throat as an agreement.

Kyoraku Shunsui

He happily agreed. He was the type of man not to let his S/O worry about anything and respected your every word.

This old man was so open-minded or… just a pervert. He had researched many ways he could do with condoms, such as sexy poses to tear off the package, ask you to use your mouth to wear it on him, or he just left the full bag of his sperm inside you, ect.

He always kept some under his sleeve just in case. The most cases happened were those dropping out of his sleeve and you wished a hole to hide when there were others.

"You're a perv old man… you did it on purpose, am I right?"

He laughed, and kissed you, while his hand played with the condom stinking between your legs.

Ukitake Juushirou

He was the one who always stepped forward a step.

"This is what human use to have a safe sex?"

He took a look at the condom in his hand, then read the construction on the box in the other hand.

"You seemed not quite comfortable last time."

This man earned the reputation for his kindness and sensitivity. He could read you well, even if you haven't said a word.

You wanted to tell him too. You prepared one in your sleeve, but a different kind. You glanced at your man reading carefully the description, then took out yours. He was really surprised, then he smiled.

"We're a perfect match then, y/n."

He always made you get burned by his bright smile.

"But, Juushirou, if we use it, we can't get a child…"

In a few minutes of silence, he approached your tensed figure.

'It's okay." You were in his big embrace, your back was gently pat by his hand. "We have plenty of time, y/n. Our babies could wait until their mother gets well."

You groaned as the itching in your chest. How he could say those flirty words so warm and sweet.

"I love you most, Juushirou."

"I love you more than that, my y/n"

#bleach scenarios #bleach smut #kenpachi x reader #muguruma kensei x reader #shunsui x reader #ukitake jushiro x reader #bleach x reader #kisuke urahara #urahara x reader #kenpachi zaraki #jūshirō ukitake #kensei muguruma #kyouraku shunsui #shinji hirako #shinji hirako x reader

[002yb]

Hi! i love your blog <3 and I wanted to ask if you have any ideas/headcanons surrounding a Jason that was ressurrected maybe a decade or two later than in canon and his relationships with Bruce or Dick or Damian or Talia (if all of them are even alive by them)

No thoughts, just same-age!Damian+Jason!AU ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! Or rather, Batman!Dick + Robin!Damian save resurrected!Jaybin.

Where Jason is resurrected ten years later and what happened a decade ago still feels like minutes prior. In his mind, it's not a casket and six feet of dirt Jason digs himself out of, but gravel and shrapnel. He's still just as hurt, just as scared, but it doesn't matter. Jason's awake and alive and he wants Bruce.

Nothing registering beyond that yearning to feel safe. Nothing mattering but going home. The trauma hitting hard and leaving him a wreck of a boy who just wants to apologize and be told that it's okay — that he is okay.

Jason wants to go back. Desperately. Tragically.

What he gets is this: the familiarity of Gotham with all its crime and corruption. The icy pinpricks of rain beating down on him. The daring hands of twisted men that pull him down alleys and laugh when he struggles. And yet it's not them who Jason hears...

HAhahHAhAHAhaHa!

Jason gets away after laying the men out flat. And that's when someone sneaks up behind him and Jason lashes out—only to get laid out flat, himself. By Robin.

Jason being in the middle of a nervous breakdown. Choking on a relieved sob because Robin is alive and safe. And that Robin came for him. But then realizing that can't be right because Jason is right here.

Something something one of the men stirring and looking to retaliate. Before Robin can act though, Jason flips them around. Protective on instinct despite Robin's protest (because Robin had it handled and now a 'civilian' is getting erroneously injured)

Enter: Batman

And Jason doesn't see him because of how he wraps himself around Robin, but he hears him—a familiar flutter of a cape and just like that, Jason is drawn to him. Sitting back to straddle Robin while looking over his shoulder at a dark shadow. Breaking at the sight of him, eyes welling with tears and lip trembling because Jason is still fifteen and just went through hell and he's sorry. He's so fucking sorry, don't be mad at him. Take him back, please. Please. He'll be better this time. He'll be good.

Robin's complaints falling on deaf ears as Jason stumbles to his feet, taking staggering steps towards Batman before Jason runs to him. Throwing himself into Batman's chest, arms wrapped tight around him.

Sobbing when those arms would come around him—as a hand would tangle in his hair and pull him impossibly close so as to not lose him again.

But it's wrong. Everything is wrong.

Because this isn't Bruce. It's Dick.

Still, they hold Jason like he's dear even as they sink to the ground with Jason half curled in their lap; broken over Jason and stealing his breath with how desperately they cling to him.

Robin!Damian not understanding what's happened with this emotionally distraught child or why it is that his partner looks like he's seen a ghost, why he looks damn near to tears. 'Pull yourself together. (¬_¬")'

Jason only placing who it is when Dick pulls away from him to look Jason over. It's the warmth of Dick's hands that come to rest on either side of Jason's face, thumbing away tears and dirt and grime. Tentative, gentle. It's the stormy blue of his eyes behind the cowl and that gravity that's always been about him that draws Jason in.

The sobs die down, choked down as Jason comes to the conclusion that he came back wrong. Because Dick is older. Because Bruce is gone.

A quiet moment where these two look at each other before they rest their foreheads together and Jason mourns too many losses. Because it's his turn for that now, it seems.

Bruce, dead. Dick, burdened by a hero's cause; clipped and caged by a mantle that never fit him, that he never wanted. It's sad. It's awful. What a terrible future.

Jason's only consolation? The Joker is dead. Killed by Dick's hand (as Nightwing's last hurrah). Also, Alfred, of course. But yes, very much an AU of 'making the best of it.' Also, an AU where it's all batboys coping with loss and moving forward together.

Extra thoughts:

Jason's body healing poorly, so resuming his role as Robin is a precarious thing. And being told 'no,' even temporarily (spoilers: it's not temporary), leads to the greatest of temper tantrums because the loss is too much. Because where does Jason fit if not as Robin? What purpose does he have? Robin was his connection with this family, with Bruce; don't take that away.

Just something with Jason going after Damian to literally fight for Robin's role. Only Damian lays Jason out flat. And he's not trying to be mean, but Damian is blunt about the circumstances. The truth is that Jason doesn't compare to him (condition, training, etc). Let it go.

Which upsets Jason more because denial. But Damian fights with him until Jason tires himself out. Taking hits and giving them back because Jason is acting a child.

Then Dick pulls Jason back and Jason screams in that way that breaks into a broken sob and oh.

Dick having to talk Jason down.

His heart breaking because Jason feels that Robin is taken from him not because he's physically incapable or because he's being looked down on—it's punishment. But he's sorry. Let him help. He'll listen this time. He swears it.

Just Jason being so beaten down and devastated because everything fell apart in an instant and he can't make anything right no matter how he tries.

All the mourning and regrets and guilt. It drowns him. He chokes on it.

Something something Dick helping Jason find his purpose again.

Something something Jason helping Dick find his purpose at the same time (because the Batman struggles are suffocating him, too).

More thoughts:

A talk between Dick and Jason at some point about how Dick always thought it would be Jason to take the cowl. Which baffles Jason because what. But Dick is being honest. ;3;

Jason being resigned to live as a ghost until Dick pushes him to be social (don't need to be legally alive to go to a book club, little wing).

Ahhhh, petulant Jason dragging his feet as he's dropped off at aforementioned book club. But then he gets to chatting with old ladies about some classics and some recommendations from over the past decade and it's not a bad time.

Oh. The old ladies flirting with Alfred whenever Alfred comes by ahahahaha.

Also, especially in the earlier days, Alfred not letting Jason wallow and carting him about the manor to help with chores, instead. And just being this quiet, supportive presence as Jason processes everything.

Sometimes Jason gets disoriented because Alfred looks so much older. Sometimes he gets teary eyed when he looks at Jason - overwhelmed with a gratefulness Jason doesn't understand because time passed so differently for them

Oh. Also, no more meta rule for Gotham because Dick doesn't give a fuck? So Jason can befriend all the heroes. Just Dick's (and Tim's) support network becoming Jason's.

Speaking of Tim. He's around. I don't know what he does, but Jason probably accidentally ends up being nice to him (impressed by Tim's competency and how it's a relief that someone so capable stepped in when Jason was gone and--) and Tim is mortally wounded forever by the praise from his second Robin lol.

Also, Dick and Jason developing this really sweet relationship because they got each other through times where they were struggling and were vulnerable and it just fostered a really warm sort of trust between them.

Random scene:

Something with Dick being worn thin and crumbling beneath the weight of everything Batman is. Hating life, but bearing it.

Jason sitting with him and taking the cowl off. Commenting on Dick's unhappiness. Leveling with Dick that this will kill him, same as Bruce.

It's hard because Batman is a symbol for this city, but the truth is that Batman has never been her only hero. She's had many - she'll have more. She can't have Dick.

Jason scrubs away some of the eye black and smiles a bit when he catches Dick's gaze. So damn blue.

Dick turning into the touch, sighing into the heel of Jason's palm. Gentle and reverent and for just a moment - Jason is taken aback by it all. The closeness, the familiarity and intimacy. This is all they could have been, huh? Or rather, it's all they are. All they've become.

So much changed and so much will. And it can get better. Loss still haunts him, but there are still safe places for him, safe people.

This AU runs away from me, but yes. Feelings. (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

Also, hi. Hello. Thank you for loving my blog. //3///

#dickjay #jaydick

[starker-raving-mads]

For You: Part II

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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It had been two weeks since Tony Stark's disaster of a funeral.

Peter thought he'd gotten maybe 12 hours of sleep in that time, mind still haunted with the last images of Mr. Stark he'd ever have - but also now haunted with Ms. Potts's words.

He did it for you.

The rest of the sleep he'd gotten was mostly from passing out from sheer exhaustion. The city was in ruins and more than ever, Queens needed their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. It was humbling the first time a grandmother started sobbing after seeing him, clutching him to her chest. Kids of all ages came up to him in ferocious hugs and clinging to his arms and legs. Many of them had heard tell of Spider-Man but were too young to have known him, and many more had missed his suited face around the streets, protecting them and keeping peace.

Peter's heart ached knowing that they'd been without him for so long, and through something so awful. The Blip was an instant for him, done and undone with only the vaguest sense of time loss in between. But for them? Half a decade of time, gone, lost in the deep expanse of tragedy. The teenager could hardly begin to understand it.

When he'd told May - who wasn't Blipped, who'd lost him for five long and miserable years, who had gray hair at her roots and frown lines where the laugh lines had been - that he couldn't leave Queens, couldn't leave his people, even for something like college, she grabbed him fiercely around his shoulders and they both cried.

"You're so incredibly strong, baby," she whispered into his hair, voice husky from holding onto her tears. "I'm so fucking proud of you."

So yeah. Queens needed him.

But that wasn't what was on his mind, not now, not with 12 hours of sleep and too much coffee in his system and a overwhelming, polished stone building looming over him. He tapped his fingers restlessly against the worn thigh of his jeans. Taylor & Taylor, the sign said. Attorneys at Law.

He was here for Mr. Starks will reading. Apparently, per the couriered letter to his and May's apartment last week, he was part of the will and was required to be in attendance. Baffled, all he'd even remotely begun to believe Mr. Stark would leave him with was the Spider-Man suit, or maybe a patent for it, to keep his identity safe? He really wasn't sure.

The caffeine in his system was causing his anxiety to ratchet up as he entered the building, greeted the receptionist, and was ushered to a conference room with a long, shiny table. At the other end of the table sat Pepper and Peter flatlined his lips together and gave her a nod, ignoring her well-hidden wince.

She hadn't said anything to him after the barrage at the funeral, Happy having pulled her off of him and led her away, still sobbing. He imagined, for all that she was probably still mad at him, that someone as put together as Pepper Potts felt uneasy with her emotional break, understandable as it was.

He sat down in the furthest seat from her anyway.

2 silent, tense minutes later, Happy entered the room. He gave Peter a quiet clap on the shoulder before going to Pepper's end of the table and sat down next to her, holding a whispered conversation. He could've easily heard them but was trying to mentally tune them out for their own privacy. Not long after more people entered the room - Rhodey, Sam Wilson, Steve Rodgers, and Bucky Barnes all ushered in a line, looking like they'd come together.

It was an odd mix of people, Peter supposed, but then again Mr. Stark always valued the unseen in those he cared about. The hardest one to figure was probably Bucky, whom Tony had given Peter the breakdown on. The man had gone, in his words, feral after learning Bucky was the one to take out Howard and Maria Stark and Peter could hear the stale anger and sadness in those few moments Mr. Stark talked to him about it, explained why he'd come back from Germany beaten, how the rift in the Avengers came to be.

Looking across the table, though, Peter couldn't see the ruthless killer he'd once been. His metal arm had been removed, the shirt sleeve carefully tucked around his shoulder, and he was quiet and contemplative, glancing around the table much like Peter was. In fact, it was less glancing at the other occupants and much more at Peter himself.

Actually, most of the table had looked at Peter more than once and it took him a good, long moment to realize it was because they didn't know who the hell he was. Pepper and Happy were the only two not looking his way, still whispering quietly between themselves. It struck him that despite his mask having been torn away in battle, no one had seen him, no one here but Pepper and Happy knew he was Spider-Man.

No wonder they're staring at me, he thought. Why would a teenage boy be at Tony Stark's will reading -

What little blood his body could spare rushed to his cheeks and the back of his neck and he stared resolutely down at the table. Despite many, many fantasies, he and Mr. Stark didn't have that kind of relationship. But oh how Peter had wished they had - how his heart and soul belonged to Tony Stark even if it was never given in return.

His long unrequited yearnings were interrupted by the lawyers finally coming in. It was two of them and what looked to be a junior associate, hands loaded with files. "We apologize for the delay," the more sleek looking 50-something woman said. "We had been confirming the last of the details."

"It's all right," Pepper said, brusque and business-like despite the emotion the teen could read in every line of her face. "Let's get started."

The lawyers sat themselves at the long table, at the head near Peter and across from Pepper. "This is the final reading of the last Will and Testament of Anthony Edward Stark," the male lawyer said, reading from his portfolio. He glanced up. "Much of this actually comes in the form of videos that Mr. Stark created himself," he said, and Peter could tell he wasn't the only one who'd barely withheld a pained gasp. "We have some to read and at the end, we'll set the video to play and he asked that only those called for his Will be allowed to remain to view it."

That figured, Peter thought. If there were a handful of powerful people in this room, superheroes and not, it made sense Mr. Stark wanted everything as on the downlow as possible.

"Firstly, to Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes," he said as a junior associate quietly and quickly handed Rhodey a file folder. "He leaves all patents and holdings and architecture belonging to the tool 'War Machine' to you. Specifically with the addendum - try not to give this one away to the government, Platypus." The lawyer looked uncomfortable but Rhodey chuckled, smile full of love and pain both.

"Next, to Captain Sam Wilson," the junior slid a similar folder in front of Sam. "He leaves all patents and holdings and architecture belonging to the drone 'Redwing' to you." The man cleared his throat. "Per Mr. Stark's instructions - 5 years is a long time to fiddle with something without ever knowing if the owner is coming back. If what we're about to do works, enjoy the little sucker."

Sam's lip quiver slightly before he tightened his jaw, nodding once. Peter wasn't the only one seemingly effected by the genius's generosity, not by a long shot.

"To Captain Steve Rodgers, he leaves all intellectual property rights to the design of his vibranium shield." The lawyer cleared his throat. "And the entirety of his liquor collection. Per instructions, 'So you have something to test that alcohol tolerance with, boy scout." Steve let out a low chuckle, nodding in thanks to the associate who handed him his folder.

"Finally," the female lawyer said, standing up as her colleagues exited the room. "We have the rest of his Will on video. We have not, and will not view this video, but have specifics mentioned within documented. These are vague," she clarified when Pepper looked like she was about to ask, "and only enough to allow the contents within the video to be legally sanctified." She gestured to a remote at Pepper's end of the table. "Simply press play and the recording will begin."

The room was quiet for a moment after the last lawyer left and Pepper cleared her throat before gesturing to Happy to hit play. An instant later, on the large screen at the end of the room, Tony Stark appeared.

His face was lined with the extra years Peter didn't get to have with him, hair graying and so fucking handsome it hurt. The frown lines around his mouth were more distinct than ever and there was a sort of settled sadness to his eyes that Peter had never seen before. He didn't move with the restless fidgeting that Peter himself often exhibited, the sign of a mind that wouldn't cease moving. If the teen had to guess, it was because of too much having happened. He knew that after the Blip, Tony had spent months withering away on a space ship and then years secluding himself at the cabin where his funeral was held. He retreated into himself more and more, letting the rest of the world figure itself out without his interference. If the pain in his face was anything to go by, Peter understood and his heart broke for that version of Tony he'd never gotten to know.

"Testing, testing," the Tony on the screen joked, letting a put upon smirk flit across his face. "Just joking, we all know my technology wouldn't fail me like that." The wink was devastating to Peter's psychology and it was already clear that this whole video would be his downfall.

"But seriously," the older man continued, more collected now. "If you're seeing this video, we either failed and died trying or I died after having succeeded." He shrugged. "The chances of everyone coming out alive were," he wiggled one hand in a so-so fashion, "basically zero. At least if it's only me, then hopefully no one else got hurt." He winced. "Sorry, Pep, but if it's me or half the universe - I'm so sorry, honey," he was so sincere it hurt Peter's teeth. He could hear the hitch in Ms. Potts's breathing from here. "If it's me or half the universe, you know which one I'm gonna pick." He looked genuinely regretful, as if he didn't realize that he was worth more than just one man. As if he didn't realize he was the center of more than one person's whole world.

Much as Pepper might hate him, she and Peter had that much in common.

"Soo," Tony continued, dragging out the note. "Now is the time to give you guys my last Will I guess. Honeybear, Sam, and Capcicle, you should've all gotten your patents and whatnots," he gestured to nothing again. "The lawyers insisted on that bit. But the real important stuff is in this video, right now." He cleared his throat.

"First, Bucky," the super soldier's head snapped to attention, looking like he didn't know why he was being called on even though being in this room was enough to know something was coming his way, words or otherwise. "Man, I went ballistic on you when we first met," Tony frowned. "It took me a long time, and a smart guy to tell me that sometimes people aren't the culmination of their actions, especially when they weren't in control of themselves."

Those were the words Peter had said to Mr. Stark during one of their lab binges - but about Mr. Stark himself, when he was too in his head about his past as a weapon salesman. He nearly started crying thinking that the man had heard him so profoundly that he'd applied to knowledge to others. Fuck, this hurt.

"So," Tony cleared his throat. "You don't need my forgiveness because you did nothing wrong. But I'm giving it to you anyway because if you're anything like me - and I have a suspicion you might just be - then you need to hear it. I forgive you, Bucky. And, not only that - in case that wasn't enough," he said, voice taking on its cocky tone that, again, Peter could tell was put upon, "I have a secondary prize for you. I figure you probably don't like that arm the Russians gave you, so I made you a new one. Arc reactor powered, and it shouldn't be as painful. Plus, I integrated some of the nanites from my suit to help with the whole sensation thing. I, uh," he cleared his throat, ducking his head before looking back up. "I kind of just thought about what Dad would want for his oldest friends and figured I could at least do that, especially since you really have had just the most shit time the last 70 years. So. I hope you take it, and I hope it works, and just like live the rest of your life the way you want, okay?"

The gaze that Bucky had on the screen was like someone frozen, unable to express anything or feel anything. Like a statue too overwhelmed by movement to do anything but sit there. Next to him, Steve wrapped an arm around him, hand sliding up to grip the back of Bucky's neck. It seemed to wake the man up and he took a deep breath, nodding to whatever the super soldier had whispered into his ear.

"Next," Tony continued. "Happy. I'd make you chief security officer but we both know you'd pull your hair out." Both men chuckled. "Instead, I bequeath my classic car collection. You already have funds sitting in your bank account so don't worry about not being able to take care of them, buddy."

"Thanks, boss," Happy said and it was sweet and sorrowful.

"Pep," the genius took a second to smile sadly into the camera. "I'm so sorry, Pepper, that I couldn't give you what you deserved. But we all know that you are, and have always been, bigger and better than me." Silent tears gathered in the corners of the CEO's eyes and she dabbed at them, elegant and perfect and everything Peter knew he wasn't. "I leave you the lake house and that brownstone you love in Manhattan, all the money in the prenup account, and 20% of my shares at SI. You've always been an amazing CEO and mother, and I know you'll be even better without my shenanigans haunting you every waking moment."

At that, everyone at the table chuckled. Grief, dark humor, and Tony Stark went together like nothing else. Peter's mind, though, was turning over. Mr. Stark only left those things to Ms. Potts? Wouldn't it have made more sense to leave her for last and say 'everything else is yours, babe.'

"Finally," Tony sighed and it was the most straightforward he looked all video. "Pete." Peter's heart clenched and he felt more than saw everyone start eyeing him. He was too focused on the screen to look anywhere but Mr. Stark's face. "You put so much trust in me, kid, and I gotta say it wasn't warranted. I have fucked up almost every single part of my life and until Thanos, you were the only thing I never ruined." The teen swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears gathering in his own eyes and wanting to scream you didn't ruin anything. "If you're seeing this, then that foolhardy plan of mine worked. And you gotta know, kid," the sincerity in the older man's eyes was sharp with pain, now, instead of dull with grief. "You gotta know I did it for you." He cleared his throat. "You're the best of us, and I wasn't going to leave you behind."

The sounds of crying hit Peter's ears and he realized that both he and Ms. Potts were starting to cry in unison. Their pain so similar and shared but so very far apart.

"I couldn't leave things the way they were knowing you had been lost because of that big purple smurf," Tony continued. "The first year you were gone I don't think I left my lab more than 5 times," he laughed softly and it made Peter's heart clench. "I drank more than my liver could probably take, considering everything, and I tried, tried, tried to figure it out, Underoos, I really did. I'm sorry it took this long."

He took a deep breath and the inhabitants of the room did the same. Peter could feel their curious stares boring into his neck but his eyes didn't stray from the screen.

"You have to trust me once more okay, Pete?" Tony asked and Peter would give him anything. He nodded even though the man obviously couldn't see him. "Firstly, to everyone else." The everyone else in question sat straighter up in their chairs. "This," he gestured and somehow it lined up with Peter's chair, "is Peter Parker. To all of you but Happy, Pete was my intern at SI. Believe me when I say this kid has the brightest mind of his generation, but that's not the only reason he's here."

He took another breath. "See the thing is, Peter Parker also happens to be Spider-Man. Yes," he said, sensing that half the room was going to interrupt with questions despite him being a recording - he knew them well. "Yes, the same guy that fought with us in Germany. Yes the same one who's spent the last few years - pre-Blip - defending the streets of Queens."

Voice becoming more intimate, he continued, "Pete is the best of us. He's got your bravery, Rhodey, and he's got your need to stick up for what's right, Steve. The kid is pure good and too smart to not do anything with it. He's gonna be better than you or me combined."

Peter flushed. It wasn't that Mr. Stark hadn't said things in that vein to him before, but to other people? He wanted to protest so, so badly and the fact that he couldn't was strangling him alive.

"And he's gonna need your help. I did what I could, before everything, and I failed over and over again." His mouth was set into a thin line. "He needs people on his side, now more than ever, now after everything, and even more than you might think because," he took a deep breath, "I'm leaving him the company."

"What the fuck," Rhodey whispered.

"What the fuck!" Pepper screeched.

"What the fuck?" Peter gasped.

Their weird sort of chorus ended after that as the room went up in cacophony. On screen, Tony was quiet because yeah, he knew most of the people in that room well enough to know they needed a minute.

"He can't do that," Pepper kept saying as Happy tried to calm her down.

"Pepper," Tony started talking again and it shocked all of them enough to calm down and shut up. "I know you're mad and I know you think I can't but - you're amazing, okay? You are so fucking good at being CEO it's like you were born for it. But Stark Industries has always, and will always, need someone there to be the mad scientist. First it was dad, and then it was me, and now it's gonna be Pete - if he accepts." He sighed. "I had really hoped to last a few more years to get you prepped for his, kid," he shrugged, chagrined smile on his face again. "But death waits for no one, me especially." That sobered them all up.

"I really hope you take this, Petey," he continued, "but if you don't, I won't be disappointed. It's a lot, I know, and if you say no, then everything goes to Pepper and that's fine. But all the weapons I've made for the Avengers and co over the years, all the Iron Man designs, all the Spider-Man things - I'm sorry, but I'd have to trash it. Friday already has the program depending on your answer, but don't let that stop you. Even if you say no to this, you're still gonna be set for life, okay?" His voice, for the first time the entire video, took on a pleading tone. "Please, please don't do this just because I'm asking. Do it because it feels right for you and if it doesn't that's okay. I set aside money for you and May to live easy for the rest of your life if you need it, college, all of it. Just, please consider it."

As if Peter could do anything else. As if Peter would let the last of Tony die with this one request. Say yes and get everything, say no and Tony dies again.

"Pepper," Tony goes on. "If Peter does accept, then I need you there to support him. I know it's hard, and I know you're probably fucking furious at me," he smiled and for just a moment his eyes twinkled in the most devastating way. "But trust me this last time that this is what's best. You know I was never the business guy, not really. But you also know that I love this company and would never leave it to someone who wouldn't do it justice."

He shifted in his seat on screen. "And for Rhodey, Steve, Bucky, and Sam - the kid's gonna need you guys to help him out with the superhero gig. I wasn't really the best with, you know, ground level stuff and that happens to be his specialty. Get him what he needs, help him where you can, and just be there for him, okay?"

"We will, Tones," Rhodey agreed, swearing on their behalf.

For his part, Peter was overwhelmed. It didn't matter what everyone else was saying right now. He heard it, but it was cotton in his brain, the lightning fast jump of thought to realization to devastation of this whole hour more than he could keep up with.

"And with that," Tony sighed. "I'm sorry, but I've got to hopefully go save the world. Or end it," he shrugged, chuckling, "who knows."

The video cut out and the screen turned off. Silence reigned until -

"You cannot take it," hissed Pepper.

"Pep - " Happy started.

"No!" Pepper yelled, standing and slamming her hands onto the table loud enough to make Peter's sensitive hearing ring. "He already took Tony he's not taking my company!"

"My company," Peter said, quietly, resolutely.

Her bright red hair whipped as she faced him, glaring. "No."

"I'm really sorry, Ms. Potts," he said quietly, firmly. "But Mr. Stark was right. Stark Industries needs someone to lead the innovation side and I'm not saying I'm the best - "

"You aren't," she hissed. Across the table from Peter, Rhodey frowned at her.

" - but I'm the one Mr. Stark chose," the teen finished. He stood, facing her, and it felt weirdly powerful to be the only other person standing in this room of powerful people, facing off against Pepper Potts against something that was by all rights his.

What the fuck was his life.

"It's not the first time Tony's thought with his dick before his brain," she spat, "but for fucks sake to give the leading shares of SI to a fucking teenage twink."

"Pepper that's enough," Rhodey said. Beside her, Happy was trying to get her to calm down, one hand reaching up to her shoulder. She shrugged it off, shaking her head.

"You can hate me all you want," Peter said, shrugging. "But Mr. Stark spent the last 20 years trying to fix the world in the best way he knew how and if a bunch of board members who are too greedy to care about that get a hold of his patents or turn the tide against the CEO and spin SI back to the weapons manufacturers that you used to be," he shook his head. "There is no greater way to disrespect Mr. Stark's legacy than that and I'm not gonna let it happen."

"You think you know about how business works," she laughed cruelly. "You think you know Tony - well you don't, Peter. No matter how many promises he made you or how much he lied to everyone else, Tony Stark was always one thing at his core: selfish."

Peter's face crumpled in perplexed sadness. "You can be as mad at me as you want, ma'am," he said, shaking his head. "But I know you don't believe that."

"I didn't," she said, voice quiet but still full of venom. "I haven't for 20 years. But him killing himself to bring you back to life, only to give the leading shares and intellectual rights to you after the fact?" She rolled her eyes. "God, you must have been some fuck."

"Virginia," Happy hissed, standing up next to her finally.

Her eyes darted over to him, then to the rest of the faces staring at her from around the table, like she'd forgotten they were there. Her face blanched slightly but her expression didn't change. She glared at him, gathering her things, and walked toward the door.

As she left, she shouted over her shoulder, "You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

#peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #starker #tony stark x peter parker #iron man #peter parker #peter x tony #spiderman #tony stark #no beta we die like men #for you fic #angst #i swear it gets better

[klausinamarink]

Easy Promises

rating: T | cw: cancer, mentioned child abuse | tags: pre-relationship, Steve has good parents, childhood friends, reunion, Theodore is Eddie’s full name agenda | wc: 956

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 14: Angst with happy ending

When Steve was eleven, he was told that he was going to die. Naturally, he burst into tears. His mother immediately pulled him to her chest, shushing him gently while his father yelled at their doctor.

“He’s just a child!”

“It’s important for your son to know that leukemia isn’t possible to survive-”

“Bullshit!”

Steve cried harder in his mother’s arms, even after they left the office.

Back home, his mother knelt down, looked Steve in the eye, and said, “You are going to live, baby. You are still going to grow up to be a smart, healthy man. You will fight that cancer and live.”

It was easy to make a promise. It was harder to follow through it.

After the urgent move to Indianapolis, Steve’s days fell into a blur of check-ups, medicine, throwing up, and exhaustion. He spent more days at the hospital than at his new school. He wasn’t sure which place was worse. The clinical words and smells with thin blankets and more sick children like him or the classrooms where apologetic teachers gave him too many lavish gifts while the other kids avoided him.

But there was one boy who declared himself as Steve’s buddy. Steve thought he would hate Theodore Munson, but he didn’t. Theodore (“Just Teddy! My full name makes me feel like I’m Roosevelt.”) never stared at Steve or asked about his leukemia or poked at his thin arms. Instead, Teddy always asked how his day went and listened to every word, even if it was a foggy repetition of hospital visits. If Steve said he was tired, Teddy never announced it to their teachers and just silently offered some cookies or juice under their desks. During recess and lunch, Teddy sat next to him and spoke excitedly about the new comics or movies Steve never had the chance to check himself.

It was always nice listening to Teddy talk. Way better than a doctor reading his statistics aloud like it was an eulogy.

When the chemotherapy inevitably snuck into his schedule, Steve cried and begged everyone to keep his hair. He was already The Kid With Cancer. He didn’t want his hair shaved off.

Nobody listened to him.

A couple days later, Steve wore a Reds cap. He refused to wear the knitted wool hat his Nana had made for him like he was five again. That would just push his classmates into bullying him for real.

He came to school late, not wanting to join the student crowd. He stopped when he saw Teddy sitting on the steps, his shaven head in his arms.

For a second, Steve thought that Teddy somehow knew and wanted to shave his hair in solidarity. And then Teddy looked up and he saw a nasty black eye. They stared at each other for a long time until both of their eyes welled up in tears.

“Your hair’s gone.” Teddy said wetly after they ran into each other for a hug.

“So ‘s yours.” Steve sniffs, daring himself to pat the buzzed scalp.

“My dad got mad last night.”

Teddy told him about his dad enough that his muffled words made Steve tighten his grip. “At least you’re not dying.”

Teddy barked out a wet laugh, “Just don’t leave me first.”

It was an easy promise to accept. Except it was already broken when Teddy never showed at school the next day. And then Steve was alone again.

—

I’m in remission. I still have a future. I’m going to live. Steve repeated that mantra to himself in his car, staring from afar at the ominous entrance of Hawkins High.

It had been a good year and a half since the doctors finally gave the good news. Steve was always a crier, but he’d only stared up at the ceiling in silent disbelief while his parents wept joyfully. The news never really hit him until two months later, when he touched an inch of new hair in the bathroom, and then sobbed and thanked God for letting him live.

Even if that little what if it comes back lingered in the back of his mind.

Now, he was thrown back to Hawkins, which included starting his sophomore year in person.

But old habits still stayed. Steve kept seated in his car and watched the other students walk inside while they laughed with healthy smiles. Even after the bell rang, he stayed. After a good five minutes, Steve’s courage returned and he stepped out.

He only took three steps when a van suddenly appeared, scaring the shit out of him with a blaring honk. Steve jumped back and flipped the driver off. “Watch it, asshole!” He stomped away, his mood broken further by the van’s door opening. Great, now he’s gonna be in a shouting match in front of the school-

“Steve?”

He froze. Turned around slowly.

Teddy, all dressed in some dark clothes with long hair. Teddy, who stared back at him with wide eyes. Teddy, Teddy, Teddy-

Steve wasn’t sure who ran towards the other first, but it was Steve who hugged the tightest and cried first.

“Holy shit,” Teddy laughed wetly in his ear, “Your hair-” He leaned away so his hands were placed on both sides of Steve’s head. They felt warm and oddly right. “You look so much healthier…”

Steve just smiled, a little blush in his cheeks as he said, “I got better.” He watched as the realization dropped on Teddy in real time. Then he was pulled into a more tighter and fiercer hug, already feeling a wet patch on his shoulder.

There were definitely lots of things they needed to catch up on. But Steve’s more contempt in sharing his warmth with his friend.

#klaus writes #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #tw cancer

[formulapai]

DAY EIGHTEEN : MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

CHARLES LECLERC

TAG LIST:

@i-wish-this-was-me

@giada-chan

@havaneselover08

@fangirl125reader

@rheathesimp

@strangemaximoff

@scopeiguess

The only thing you can recognize is the numbness filling you, haunting your every thoughts and precluding tears from falling down your cheeks. It prevents you from feeling hands stroking your back in comfort, hollow touches on your cold skin, a transcription of support when words fail. Your tea has gone cold, the delicate porcelain cup left untouched as your fingers are too stiff to hold it.

There are voices surrounding you, you can recognize all of them, varying from loud and disbelieving to quiet and wavering, a large array of reactions to the news. Someone is sitting next to you, patting your hands in a mean to get your attention, to get some sort of sign, yet nothing is able to come out of you, no sounds, no movements, not even thoughts. You know that you’re shaking but can’t see it, can’t feel it, can’t even comprehend it. Maybe that’s why there are so many hands on you.

A door slams open, footsteps rushing and echoing through the room, wails deafening. They drop down in front of you and only then you’re able to realize that you’re not alone in this pain, that you have to be there for them, like they’re here for you. Something inside of you breaks, the dam keeping your tears at bay suddenly gets overthrown and you feel the wetness dripping on your hands, feel a hand stroking your cheeks in an attempt to dry them.

It’s no use as you let yourself fall down the couch, dropping on your knees in front of the person, in front of Arthur. His arms are around you before you know it, burying his face in your neck in an attempt to quiet his cries but it proves useless, his grief ringing in your ears as yours take over, too. It must look pretty pathetic, the two of you sobbing on the floor. It would, if only the rest of the room wasn’t filled with people like you two, drowning in sorrow and tears.

You can’t quite comprehend it, still. And if it was any other situation, if the outcome hasn’t been so tragic, you’d be laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all. How come a Formula One driver, risking his life in high speed cars on the daily, have an accident in a rental car, coming back from the grocery store. The more you think of it, the more anger flares up inside of you, bubbling under your skin, fuming. It’s not fair, the world’s cruel and heartless, a selfish man taking what he wants, when he wants.

Then, the numbness comes back. Days go by, the funeral takes place, the emptiness in your heart takes more place each seconds passing. You dress in black, you keep your head down, you don’t bother smiling at the people coming to meet you. You don’t eat when you’re sitting in Pascale’s house later, surrounded by family and friends. You don’t share your favorite memories with him with the others, sitting together around bottles of wine.

You don’t realize when they get mad at you, heart and voice raw with pain, with incomprehension, with worry. All they can do is witness you giving up on your hopes and life, not finding a reason to keep on living if he’s not coming back to you. Lorenzo fights for you, telling them off and setting the record straight. He understands you, understands how you cope. Then it’s quiet again, soft apologies falling from their lips and Pierre pulling you into a hug, barely holding his tears as he tells you all about what his best friend confessed to him during all his years dating you, admitting that there’s a ring waiting for you inside his bed table.

You find the ring when you come back to your shared place, admire it as you sit in his side of the bed, cold and empty. The metal is comforting in your hand and the way it wraps around your finger when you put it on reminds you of when he’d hug you, intricate and intimate. You send a message to Pierre, a simple picture of your finger and the ring adorning it, visible tears drying on your hand. He answers with a heart and a message about how proud of you he is, how strong you are.

A bitter laugh leaves your mouth as you close the phone. You’re not strong, you’re quite the contrary as you let yourself fall back on the bed and sob to your heart’s content. You’re not strong and you don’t know how to be, you don’t even know if you’ll ever be anymore. He was the strong one in the relationship, the rock you’d cling to during storms. And he’s not there anymore so how can you survive them now ?

As you finally log in your social medias, days later, you post the picture of the ring, in between dozens of pictures of him, of the two of you together. And as much as your heart breaks, as much as your hands shake, there’s a certain lightness taking over your heart when you’re finally able to write a short message, posting it seconds after.

“To the love of my life, to my best friend, to my rock during storms. I’ll miss you, always. Thank you for all these memories. Thank you for introducing me to your family, to your friends, to all of the people who dried my tears these past weeks. Our souls will meet again, in this universe and all the others. I love you, Charles.”

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 angst #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc

[agentdilfhotchner]

random question.. do you have any hotchniss headcanons? 🫣

// okay, so i do not ship hotchniss as much as jemily, BUT i do think they’d be really good together, soo i wanted to throw my thoughts about this power couple out there. this is also my first time doing something like this so i apologize if it’s ass ✨🫶

MY HOTCHNISS HEADCANONS:

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡˚॰°ₒ৹๐

- Emily and Aaron both took dance when they were younger. Hotch was kinda forced to by his mother but secretly liked it, especially the being partnered up with pretty girls part. Emily was a full on pro ballerina by age nine. She still takes ballet classes in her free time because it helps ease anxiety. Definitely giving black widow movie vibes, like spy AND ballerina, we love to see it. Anyway, they bond over this when they first get together and decided to take couples classes. They do anything from salsa dancing to tap, Emily even persuades Hotch to take a dirty dancing class, AND HE IS ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD?!? The man is so tender and likes to take his time in a relationship so the intimacy in dirty dancing is like second nature to him and Emily definitely isn’t mad about it.

- They are both very much married to their work so every now and then they have to take a step back and remind themselves, and sometimes each other, that work isn’t the most important thing anymore. Hotch is actually better at making time because he’s had so many years with Jack. I also like to think that Emily is the Unit Chief and Aaron has semi retired but helps consult on cases across the country by the time they get together. Emily is definitely in charge of planning trips for the two of them, plus Jack whenever he wants to tag along.

- very much the definition of ‘touch him/her and i’ll kill you.’ vibes. They are both VERY passionate creatures and do get jealous often. Definitely not in a toxic way, they just love each other so much and never want the other to feel disrespected. Hotch will always have a hand on the small of her back when they are walking together. Emily eats ALL of it up cause her man is completely whipped for her.

- Aaron goes absolutely feral when Emily speaks French or any other language. He literally turns into Gomez Addams and is just like ‘My wife is the most gorgeous, smartest person to ever live!’

- Emily instantly connects with Jack because although her mother is still alive, Emily rarely got to spend time with her. So she definitely feels like she is healing a part of her younger self by being there for Jack. I don’t see Aaron and Emily having kids of their own. Jack being enough for Aaron and Emily maybe feeling as though she wouldn’t be a good mother. Aaron tells her how ridiculous that is because she’s a natural with Jack, but ultimately they decided to just focus on raising him.

- Emily does have five fur babies to take care of though. Soon after her and Aaron got married he gifted her with a cat he adopted from the pound. Little did he or the vet at the pound know that the cat was pregnant, so a couple months later the Hotchner family discovered a little surprise in the form of six baby kittens. Aaron talked Emily into giving two of them away, one to Spencer and one to JJ, but Emily insisted on keeping the rest. Of course Aaron couldn’t say no to her 🫶

- Aaron has a lot of PTSD from what happened with Haley. He has night terrors sometimes so bad that Emily finds him shaking and sobbing in his sleep some nights. If Emily takes to long running errands or maybe doesn’t answer a text over a certain amount of time Aaron’s anxiety sky rockets. But Emily is so patient with him. Staying up late to soothe him and going with him to his therapy sessions just to hold his hand in the waiting room. She’s his number one supporter and he doesn’t take that for granted.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #emily prentiss #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss

[theflowerrooms]

Dad!Eddie Munson headcanons?

(if you haven't already)

I LOVE DOING THIS!!!

single dad! Eddie series someday?

Your pregnancy was easy but it was anything but stress-free.

When you told Eddie you were pregnant, he stared at you for a moment before he said “are you keeping it?” With the most monotone voice you’d heard. His reaction to learning that you were carrying his child.

It took him a week before it processed for him, that you were going to be having his baby, your baby together.

He came home one night later than usual and bolted to you with a small gift bag, blue with white tissue paper.

You opened it slowly, loving the big cheesy grin on his face more than whatever could b possibly be in the gift.

A small hellfire onesie, 3-6 months. You cried and he cried.

Eddie was so worried during the pregnancy. He hadn’t gotten lucky with his parents, his mom dying when he was so young and his father being- his father.

He was so sure that he wouldn’t even know how to be a parent.

All of his worries were washed away when a doctor put your little baby girl in his arms.

Big round eyes and a full head of dark hair. She was a month premature, and while completely healthy, she looked impossibly tiny in Eddie’s arms.

Delilah Juliet Munson

Eddie cried when you held her for the first time, and he cried when he handed her to Dustin for the first time. He sobbed when he watched Wayne hold her carefully in hands aged by years of working in factories and raising a troubled boy.

Eddie sang to Delilah every night since you brought her home. A lot of them he’d written for you, a lot he’d written for her.

She’d sit in his lap between him and his guitar, playing with her dad’s soft dark curls that she’d inherit.

There was no trouble telling that she’s Eddie’s, she looked nothing like you. Dad’s girl through and through.

As she got older, she didn’t seem to act much like Eddie. She was more timid and quiet, didn’t get mad quick.

From any child you’d expect tantrums, especially a Munson child, even Eddie threw tantrums from time to time.

Not Delilah. She’d cry when she was sad, express that she was mad when she was, but she was incredibly emotionally intelligent, tantrums were never a thing you had to deal with from her.

She didn’t share many mannerisms with Eddie, only a few. When she’d colour she’d stick the tip of her tongue out past her lips in concentration, when she was scared or nervous her hands would shake, and she’d always talk with her hands. Even if she was talking about something boring.

She loved to talk- she got that from Eddie. It would take some time to get her to open up, but she’d talk your ear off when she gets comfortable.

Delilah and Dustin have an incredible bond. Uncle Dusty. She draws pictures for him all the time, includes him on family portraits, picks him flowers.

“Daddy can you put this in your pocket?” Is for Uncle Dusty.” She’d grin, adorable tooth gap on show with a cool looking pebble in her palm. And Eddie would put it in his pocket, and Dustin would keep it forever.

When Delilah was old enough for preschool, she’d started to cling to you a bit more. She always wanted you and always loved you, but she was dad’s girl. And overnight she’d decided that you gave the best hugs, that you told the best stories, and that you gave the best piggyback rides, which Eddie swore was false because he was both stronger and taller.

But she still loved her dad, told him all his secrets and asked him all her questions.

One day you went into her room to the both of them looking sheepish, she handed you Eddie’s D20

“If you roll a number bigger than ten, you and daddy get to have another baby!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #petalwrites #eddie munson headcanons #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie x mom!reader

[signed-sapphire]

The Fallen Star ✨

A Wish rewrite

Asha redesign 💜

Hehe hi Anny sorry I’m basically stealing your reimagining format… let me know if you want me to change it

Anyways hi! Inspired by so many amazing Wish reimaginers (yes that’s a word shut up), mainly @gracebethartacc/@gracebeth3604 and the aforementioned @annymation, I decided to post my own rewrite! This being the character details.

Now, unlike the prior AU Ashas, my Asha acts less like a Cinderella and more of a… Kusco. If you catch my drift.

But don’t worry! Our girl is going to go through some major character development!

But first… let’s get to meet her!

(Ignore the shit quality this is the only art I have of her atm since I don’t have my ipad with me… will update with better photos later)

Princess Asha Arabella Arman is the heir to the throne of Rosas, the kingdom of wishes

It was founded by none other than her adopted father, Magnus Arman

She was raised by Magnus and Amaya for the past 8 years, and has been coddled quite a bit

All three of the Armans lost their homes to to the evil Stars, so Asha is against everything to do with Star magic

Just like the movie, Asha is 17 years old, and can’t wait until she turns 18 and can wish to become a great magician like her papa

No matter how hard she tries, wish magic doesn’t work for Asha, something she finds extremely frustrating

When this happens, she has a tendency to lash out and snap at people

Many servants have been fired for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they understand

At least, the older generation does

Stars destroyed their homelands with their greedy magic, and Asha just wants to be as great as her parents

Though… they do think she could be nicer about it

Asha’s parents are always quick to come to her rescue and smooth things out after her temper blows up, rehiring staff and gently reprimanding Asha

They’re not the best parents but like they adopted her when she was 9, they don’t know how to deal with kids

Still, they love Asha as their own

Gonna get more into the king and queen of Rosas in part ii, back to Asha!

Becaude her parents are such great heroes, Asha feels very strongly that the citizens of Rosas should be treating them as if they are the most grand royalty ever

And as their daughter, she should be awarded some of the same privileges

Except none of the teenagers her age seem to like hanging around her, always calling her snobby and self-centered

Excuse me? She was not self centered! Asha just believed her kingdom deserved the best, and their rulers even better! Obviously!

Personality traits

Stubborn

Loyal (to those she deems worthy)

Spoiled

A bit naïve

Insecure but covers it up with WAY too much confidence

Bad liar. Will be important later on.

^But SUPER good at pulling out her “I’m your princess I’m better than the air you breathe” face when needed

Never seems to take her duties seriously… think Rise!Leo if you can

Backstory

So my rewrite’s epilogue is posted already, but imma put her angst here too anyways~

Stars used to help people fulfill their own wishes, until one day they got lazy and started simply granting them instead

This method messed with the system and drove the Stars crazy, mad with power, and they started destroying kingdoms to get more magic

Little Asha’s village was unfortunately one of the victims

Sakina and Tomás barely had time to react before the glowing streaks of light crashed through their roof

Screams echoed through the chaos, and giant hands made of twilight ink scooped up villagers

Tomás and Sakina grabbed their little girl and huddled over her protectively as another blast of scorching light exploded through their roof

When the dust settled, and the harsh glow had faded away, there was only one sound left in the village

The sobbing of a 9-year-old girl, crying and begging for her parents to wake up

That’s when Magnus came across Asha, and took her under his wing

He could fight away Stars, so Asha stuck with him

It took a WHILE for her to learn that Magnus wasn’t going to harm her, but hey, Magnus had her back through it all

After he and Amaya founded Rosas, Asha was reassured that she would never have to see a Star destroy everything she loved ever. Again.

Oh, Asha, if only you weren’t the protagonist of your story

Design

BEFORE I DO ANYTHING I WANT TO GIVE A HUGE SHOUTOUT TO @mythartist21 BECAUSE THEY DESIGNED BASICALLY THE WHOLE LOOK FOR ASHA AND CIELO GIVE THEM A ROUND OF APPLAUSE AND GO CHECK THEM OUT

*Ahem* So I did a bit of a deep dive into Asha’s design in the “pilot” over here BUT for her fully updated design today, notes below (a lot of it copy-pasted from here)

Asha’s concept art was inspired by Moroccan and Amazigh fashion, so @mythartist21 added a bunch of inspiration from that in her design

Our girl has her hair accessories back!

I gave her fuller lips and a longer nose bc we only had Jasmine for the nose rep in Disney Princesses, and she’s Afro-Hispanic! Show off her black features!

I also darkened her skin bc… I get that people from North Africa can have lighter skin, heck, Pepa from Encanto showed good rep for the lighter skinned Colombians! But like… we only have one other black princess. Let’s show off that skin color diversity

She also has wider shoulders, a bigger chest, neck, and waist, bc she’s not white but also WOMEN WITH MUSCLES>>>

Asha isn’t super jacked but she does have muscle defining and I want to write in a scene where she has no sleeves on so we can appreciate her arms

RatLD had Namaari’s back and my bisexual ass needs some more women to simp for

Eyeshadow as a reference to Elsa but also I felt she needed some color on her face. Miiiight change it later on when I add in her hair beads but for now she has eyeshadow

Gonna keep the many Rosas symbols bc she’s the princess of the kingdom, what do you expect?

Also she just looks older in general (even though she’s still seventeen like canon!Asha) which I think lends itself to her royal status idk

+ technically more realistic proportions which ig can be a callback to the times when animators did rotoscoping?

Dimples. Bc they’re fantastic

I TRIED to draw Asha with her fine braids, but people were complaining that canon!Asha looked too much like Isabella Madrigal, and with TFS!Asha having darker skin + longer nose structure + more haughty personality? Yeah, I gave Asha back some body in her hair

Idk I tried to make them look like the braids from this concept art ⬆️ (imagine they’re like this… I did the art at like 3am okay)

I HC that Asha’s canon outfit is her younger self’s outfit, down to the detailed braids done lovingly by Sakina

But after the incident with the stars…

Let’s just say Amaya tries her best, and Asha appreciates it

I also finally modeled our girl a crown! Based off of Amaya’s weird ass canon one, and the tiara look of the early Disney Princesses

Gotta make one for Maggie too…

#saph doodles #the fallen star #the fallen star au #asha #asha x star #disney wish #princess asha #star x asha #human star #starsha #wish 2023 #based on the concept art #idk #art wip

[veronicaphoenix]

Chapter tags: best friends to lovers, alcohol intake, angst/fluff, Japanese folklore, fantasy. | Word count: 4.5k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

3 YEARS LATER

(CONNECTING WITH THE LAST CHAPTER OF IKIGAI)

The first time I heard about the Hanahaki disease I was a kid. I couldn’t even retain the name for too long in my head.

The first time I coughed up flowers, I thought I had gone mad, but I never forgot the moment I held the purple flower in the palm of my hand.

The occurrence happened again sometime later, and as the weeks went by, it became more recurrent to the point where I would fall ill with each change of season. That was the first thing I put it down to. My grandmother was far away, on the other side of the world, and perhaps if I had had her nearby, I would have been able to identify sooner the illness that was eating me up inside. 

By the time I did, the love of my life was lying in my arms, her body numb; Death was welcoming her with open arms. And consequently, I was about to run to it, too.

The first time I coughed up flowers, it had been a week since Lia had told me she liked Mitch, but the malaise started much earlier; the night we finished playing the last show of the tour.

The band and most of the crew were gathered in the dancefloor of the concert’s venue. Lights on and most of the equipment already picked up and stored into the truck, the guys and I’d had some time to take a shower and change clothes before returning to the green room and the show’s floor to help clear out the space and pack up.

Most of the crew gathered in the wide space and on stage within the next thirty minutes. Matt, our FOH, grabbed the last mic before someone unplugged it and congratulated the entire team. He started a round of applause that spread throughout the room, the sound reverberating against the walls. It was our first time touring as headliners, and me and the rest of the band were still processing the fact that we had sold out most of the venues we had played in. To say it was a dream come true was an understatement.

Given that this had been the last show, many of our friends and family had come to see us. Smiling from ear to ear at our accomplishments, I responded to the hugs from my colleagues and shook every hand that came my way. I could still hear Folio’s father somewhere behind me vociferating how proud he was of his son and the entire band, then I came upon Lia’s lit-up face in the crowd. My smile grew bigger.

She was wearing the same clothes I had seen her in before we went on stage and during the concert. She had been watching us from one of the balconies right in front of the stage, high above. Her band T-shirt fell to the point above her knees, and she was wearing fishnet tights with black boots. She had let her hair down again, which fell across her chest and over the pendant with her band crew ID card. 

Politely, I pushed a couple of people aside until I had her within arm’s reach. I enveloped her in my arms. In turn, she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my back. We said nothing to each other. We stood there, among dozens of people around us, feeling each other and remembering the road we had traveled together to get to where we stood that night. I thought I sensed a small tremble coming from her petite body, as if she was fighting to hold back a sob.

Lia smelled like vanilla, and the warmth emanating from her body enveloped me. After so many years by her side, growing up with her and going through heaven and hell together, it was always Lia I sought out after a long day’s work.

Her cheek pressed against my chest with the trust of someone who’s used to it. With my arms around her shoulders and the height difference between the two of us, I practically had her tucked into my body, and she felt more comforting than any other place I could imagine.

The hug might have lingered for a few more minutes, allowing us to sway gently, content as two free birds, if not for the intrusion of a voice that disrupted our moment.  

“Hey, Noah.”

It was Mitch’s voice, the sound guy that worked for one of the bands we had played with last summer on the Warped Tour. We’d known each other many years, but hadn’t really hit it off until the two bands shared the stage at different times last year. We had hung out a few times in the past couple of weeks, as his band toured concurrently with ours, leading to shared nights in local bars and pubs, getting to know each other better.

As Lia and I reluctantly disengaged from one another, Mitch’s hand had already found its way to my shoulder.

Releasing my grip on Lia, we both shifted our attention toward Mitch. He was a few inches shorter than me, but broader at his shoulders and chest, and his face was covered in a light brown beard.

It didn’t go unnoticed to my eyes the quick glance he shot at Lia, nor the stupid grin on her face.

After a firm handshake and a brief, brotherly hug, Mitch congratulated me on the success, and we shared a couple of comments until he couldn’t keep his eyes off Lia any longer. Lia mumbled a shy “hi” and let Mitch wrap her in his arms and give her a kiss on the cheek. I averted my gaze and looked around uncomfortably, looking for someone to occupy myself with.

I spotted Nicholas not far away. I exchanged a glance with him. With a half-smile, he raised his eyebrows at me, and I shrugged my shoulders. He approached our spot with a beer in hand as behind me I listened to the exchange of words between Lia and Mitch. Mitch's tone was subtle, the same one I had heard him use many other times when talking to her. He spoke with a softness that was not typical of him, that he never used when he was with the boys. 

He had it bad for Lia. 

And judging Lia’s behavior, I could tell she liked him, too, but she had never said it out loud. Lia was very cautious when approaching relationships. She didn’t want to get hurt, the reason why she had never been in anything too serious. Her experiences as a child and others later during her teenage years had already given her too much to learn from. However, as a human being, there were things she couldn’t control even if she tried, and she was itching with curiosity.

We were weak like that.

Mitch was asking Lia if she would be at the hotel bar that night, where we all planned to meet after dinner. Tomorrow we were going back to Los Angeles, and we had two months off before we locked ourselves back in the studio and started working on the next album. Lia said yes and Mitch replied that they would meet there then, in a few hours. He did so by slurring his words and smiling wickedly at her. For a moment, as I looked back at Lia, I thought I would have to hold her in case her legs flattered.  

He left, and I stared at her with raised eyebrows.

“What?” She asked with flushed cheeks and tucking a strand of hair behind her pierced ear.

I shook my head. Nicholas caught up with us and suggested going to a Mexican restaurant not far from there, recommendation of a local.

We finished emptying the room and said goodbye to those who were leaving that night to go home and those who were exhausted and opted for a hotel dinner. I was exhausted too, but I still felt like hanging out with the guys and having a good time that last night before going back to LA, where I could catch up on the sleep I’d sacrificed and on the energy I had expended during the shows. 

We waited half an hour for a table in the Mexican restaurant, a consequence of our large group, which exceeded the available seating. The chaos we brought with us and that extended throughout our food feast made me feel a tinge of embarrassment when I glanced at the state of the table right before we made our way out.

Back at the hotel, some, including Nicholas, Jolly and Matt, went straight to the bar. Bryan, Lia and Folio decided to go up to the rooms. Bryan needed to drop off his camera and change his shoes. Folio wanted to get a hoodie because he was feeling cold, and Lia wanted to get cleaned up and go over her makeup. I gave her my backpack and my room card to drop it there along with the iPhone I used for work-related calls. 

I didn't see her again for another forty minutes, when she had a second beer in hand and one of those smiles that made me worry more than I would like to.

Lia had a problem with alcohol. She was as aware of it as the rest of us were. It was the leftovers that her mother had left along the way and that she had picked up from an early age. While she was going through a good time and had gotten some help through the years, she was still prone to getting carried away, especially if something triggered her and took her back to the years she spent living under the same roof as her negligent mother.

That night was not the case, but the mere act of drinking too much carried its consequences. The next morning she would resent it, and she would feel guilty with herself because ending up drunk from simply drinking too much was already reason enough to make her remember each of the times she had drunk to forget. 

She was entertaining Amalia and Emery, two friends she had invited along on that last night. They were engaged in a conversation that made her laugh, exposing her little dimples, although from where I was standing I could only see one. She bent forward every time she laughed, and the movement made her hair dance around her shoulders. 

Despite the small tug I felt in my chest as I caught a glimpse of her in the distance, under the dim light of the bar, and with beer in hand, the more altruistic part of me almost made me smile to see her so happy, because after all, if anyone certainly deserved to be happy in that room, it was her.

Another thirty minutes later, I heard Jolly’s voice approaching, interrupting my funny talk with Bryan over some strange connection between kangaroos and squirrels.

“I think we should consider calling it a night.”

I looked up from my beer and then toward the direction where Jolly’s eyes were pointing.

Lia was now in the center of the dance floor, swayed to the music alongside her friends. Her movements were a bit unsteady, and at one point, she tripped over her own feet and had to hold onto Emery for support. Their laughter echoed across the space.  

“She’s had a few,” said Jolly, louder this time. He was worried. If there was one thing we all agreed on besides our passion for music and the decisions we made about and for the band, it was Lia’s well-being.

Lia was the cements that held our castle together.

Without Lia, maybe the band wouldn't exist. Maybe Jolly wouldn't be there. Maybe our last album wouldn't have been as successful, nor the merchandising designs as appealing, nor the tour as well planned. 

Despite what Lia carried on her back, she was the hardest working, most passionate woman I had ever met. And resilient. Her resilience was unmatched, but that didn't stop her from falling apart at times. We all go down at times, don’t we? It's in our nature. We're made of glass, and sometimes we crack, and sometimes, when it's worse, we shatter. Lia had cracked time and time again during her teenage years, but she had been able to pull herself together and keep walking. Other than that, she was an amazing person, and the concern I felt for her well-being was shared by the rest of the band and even some of our closest friends. 

Lia didn't talk about what had happened to her. She didn't talk about her relationship with her mother, about everything she had wanted since she was a child and never had. But some of us had known her since we were six years old, and we knew everything she had endured while living under the mantle of a single, alcoholic mother who was disinterested in the big, brown-eyed little girl she had brought into the world.

“I suggest we go back to the hotel. We’re not doing anything out of the ordinary here, anyway,” Nicholas mumbled. He had only had one beer all night and was now entertaining himself with some chips and a Fanta.

I clicked my tongue and stood up, leaving my beer behind. 

I didn't mind having to go back to the room, it being barely one in the morning. We had had a good time for the first two hours. The bar had been crowded and the atmosphere had been livelier. By three in the morning, however, the pace of the party was beginning to slow down, though not for everyone. What mattered to me now was ensuring that Lia didn’t end up too drunk and spare her the consequences the next day.

"Lia".

She turned as soon as she heard her name, nearly losing her balance in the process. I reached out an arm to catch her, but she managed to steady herself before I touched her. Behind her, Emery and Amalia stifled a string of giggles. I shot them a quick disapproving glance over Lia's head that didn't seem to have more than a little effect on them.

"I know what you're going to say," Lia started saying, as if my sudden presence hadn't surprised her. She pointed her index finger at me. "I'm not drunk." She touched my chest with her finger and her body leaned toward mine. Her gaze still seemed to focus clearly on what was in front of her and she didn't babble, but from the joviality with which she spoke and her lively movements it was clear which way she was headed towards. "Not yet anyway."

"I know," I replied, wrapping the fingers of my hand around her wrist and pulling her finger away from my chest, "but I think we should go to the rooms. It’s late."

Lia pouted. Her shoulders slumped and she made a disappointed face. Then she said my name in that way that, for some reason, made me fall to my knees.

"Noowwaah!"

When we were kids and ever since we met, Lia had always had a tendency to mispronounce my name. I remember the first few times it had annoyed me, and I had spent week after week repeating to her that my name wasn't pronounced that way. She had finally learned to say it right, but sometimes she would let that slip, and over the years it had begun to sink in. Lia only called me that way when she was drunk, sick, or when she needed my help, and I couldn't help but get attached to that way of calling me and the expression that appeared on her face. 

"Just a little while longer, please."

"No, Lia. You've had enough to drink. Come on, let's go. You know you'll thank me tomorrow."

"Ten more minutes, please," she said, leaning against my chest with her chin raised.  "Please? Let me finish this beer and say goodbye to the girls. I'll give you a back massage, I promise." 

I looked at her with a raised brow. 

"Wow, what do you have to do to get one of those?"

Perfect, I thought as Mitch appeared at my back. I held Lia with one hand around her waist as I felt her melt. 

"Noah wants us to leave now, but I haven't finished my beer yet."

Mitch, who was no longer wearing the sweatshirt he'd been wearing during the concert and had a cuba libre in his hand, looked at me as if I had no right to look out for her. She was my best friend; I knew her better than anyone and cared for her better than anyone did. The one who had no say there was him.

"The party has just started," he said to me in his deep voice.

"Right?!" Lia exclaimed, looking at me as if it was the first time someone was agreeing with her. 

"Lia," I looked at her sternly, ignoring Mitch. Lia had long understood what I meant when I mentioned her name that way. 

After a few seconds, she puffed, slumping her shoulders and pouting.

"Alriiiiight. Ten minutes?" 

"Five," I concluded. 

"Okay. You're an angel."

She kissed me on the cheek. The stench of alcohol coming from her reached my nose.

Before she could pull away from me, Mitch interrupted us again. 

He pointed at us, wagging his index finger from Lia to me and from me to Lia, "You two aren't together, are you?"

Lia snorted a laugh and I looked at him with a frown, as if he had lost my mind.  

“No”, I replied dryly.

“Of course not,” Lia agreed. “Noah’s my best friend,” she continued, giving me a weak pat on the stomach Then she started to ramble. “He just takes care of me and I take care of him, when I’m not drunk, of course. He’s like my big brother. When we were little, we promised we’d never fall in love with each other, and we’re not going to do that, are we, Noah?” She raised her head to look at me with those big brown eyes. When I looked down at her, I felt something stir in my stomach. I felt uncomfortable. Even if the answer was a clear “no”, I didn’t want to have that conversation with Mitch in front of us.

Part of me wanted to answer the opposite so that I wouldn't have to see Mitch's smile. I wasn't sure what was wrong with me. I had liked Mitch from the beginning, we had gotten along well despite our differences, but the moment he noticed Lia, I started to look at him with different eyes. 

"Great," Mitch said, that smile I almost hated already plastered on his face as he looked at Lia with eyes that were loaded with something I didn't like, either. 

Lia widened the smile as if to please him with the information we had just given him and turned away and reengaged in a conversation with the girls. 

As I began to pray that the five minutes would fly by, Mitch ran her up and down with a hungry look. He was a nice guy, but I wasn't sure if he'd be a good match. He seemed too rough for Lia. Maybe that’s what worried me to the bone.

"Fuck, she's hot," he mumbled. 

I rolled my eyes.

“Sorry, Noah,” he said next, tapping me on the shoulder. “It must be like hearing comments about your little sister.”

“Something like that,” I answered reluctantly.

“You went to school together? How have you known each other for so long?”

“It’s a long story.”

And I didn’t want to tell it. Not to him.

“It always is, isn’t it?” He laughed.

He was getting on my nerves. I glanced to my left and saw Lia finishing her beer in one gulp.

“Then you won’t mind if I ask for her phone number, will you?”

I held his gaze for a few seconds before finally answering with a slight shake of my head. The music coming out of the speakers was starting to get into my ears in a piercing way. Mitch followed up with comments assuring me that I had nothing to worry about and that he knew how to take good care of women, and another string of bullshit.

Over the years I had seen Lia at her highest and lowest moments. She needed help and sometimes she needed someone to be there for her to keep her from sinking. I wasn't sure Mitch was the one for that. 

Or maybe it was simply that I didn't want to give up my place to anyone else. 

On our way to the elevator in the lobby, we ran into Bryan and a colleague of his, also a photographer. Nicholas and Jolly stayed with them talking for a while and Lia and I excused ourselves and continued to the elevator. 

Once inside, Lia leaned against the wall and threw her head back, closing her eyes and letting out a long sigh. Her hair was tousled, and her makeup was smeared.

After having spent nearly three hours in the bar, exposed to a loud volume of music that had already been haunting us since the morning when we had sound checked in the event room, and being surrounded by people, the near silence and quietness as the elevator took us to the fourth floor was to be welcomed. 

I didn't expect Lia to say anything. She was as tired as I was, and when she drank, any ounce of energy she had left disappeared. At that hour, the hallway on the fourth floor was empty, and the yellowish light from the lamps on the walls gave the place a bit of a gloomy look, even for a four-star hotel. 

"The card?" I asked her when we got to the door. 

Lia leaned forward, and I thought she was going to throw up. Instead, she pulled the keycard out of her left boot and swiped it through the reader. She looked at me curiously, and seeing my expression of disbelief, she burst out laughing. 

With a hand on the small of her back, I escorted her inside. Neither of us bothered to turn on the light. When we reached the bed, Lia turned on the lamp on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the mattress. She lay still, staring at the carpeted floor of the room, her hands resting on the mattress on either side of her body.

I took a quick look around. As expected, Lia had her things scattered around the room, but in an organized fashion. The suitcase lay closed on the stool next to the desk reserved especially for that use. On the desk were her MacBook, iPad, a couple of notebooks, a pencil case, and a bottle of water. Underneath were three pairs of shoes: Vans sneakers and a pair of boots. I had seen her wear other shoes during the tour and was sure she kept them in the closet, or they were already in the suitcase. On the armchair in one of the corners, next to the window, she had left her backpack and jacket. On the small table next to the bed she had a book, another bottle of water, and her iPhone.

As I looked back at her, I sensed that she was about to fall backwards and lose herself in Morpheus’ arms.  

I took a step toward her. 

"Boots and tights off. Come on.” 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lifted one knee to remove one boot and then the other. She looked up at me from under her eyelashes and a mischievous smile crossed her features.

"That sounded really hot."

I had to roll my eyes and look away from her. It wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last time Lia would make comments like that whenever I made a remark that could be interpreted otherwise. She loved teasing me, and despite that, I couldn't help but curl my lips and satisfy her as she stood up and reached under her shirt to remove her tights. She left them lying on the floor next to her boots and turned around to uncover the bed. 

"Aren't you going to use the bathroom?"

"I'm exhausted," she muttered.

Her hands hid inside the oversized t-shirt she was using as a dress, and in a way that still amused me, she managed to unclasp her bra and take it off. It joined the tights on the floor.

Placing first one knee on the mattress and then the other. She climbed into bed and flopped down on her side, then pulled the comforter over herself and settled her head on the pillow. She brushed her hair out of her face with one hand. 

"Try to get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"

She nodded and I watched her squint her brown eyes. I was about to turn away when she called out to me again. 

"Kiss me goodnight?"

For a moment I stood there, staring at her with a growing crease between my eyebrows. I blinked a couple of times, holding her gaze. Then she let out a giggle. 

"What are you thinking about, silly? A kiss on the forehead," she clarified, pulling out a hand from under the sheets and running a finger to the area. 

I dropped my shoulders. I returned to the side of the bed and leaned down until my lips touched the skin of her forehead. I heard her let out a sigh of contentment and saw her smile a little.

"I feel a little dizzy..." She whispered with her eyes closed. 

"Want me to stay?" I offered, willing if necessary.  

"You've done enough. I'll be fine when I wake up," she turned onto her side and hid her hands under the pillow. Blinking a couple of times, she stared at me with a softness that indicated she was close to sleep. "Thank you."

"No biggie. I'll see you tomorrow, Gremlin."

Before I left the room, I stole a glance at her one last time and saw her already asleep, almost completely hidden under the white comforter. I thought about leaving a tablet of tylenol next to the bottle of water but decided against it. 

That night, as I went back to my room and got into bed, I couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks, but there was one thing that had me more worried than anything else, and that was the fact that Mitch had ended up asking for Lia's number.

That night was the first time I started to feel that sick feeling in my stomach that would become so familiar as time went on. 

When Lia called me weeks later and told me that Mitch had kissed her, with innocent excitement in her voice, I coughed up the first flower.

#noah sebastian #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x ofc #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction

[jacksdinonuggets]

Lute

Summary: Lute finds out about Vaggies regression. she ain't exactly supportive but ain't exactly against it.

tw: BAD ENDING

Another successful extermination passed. Blood coated Vaggie’s uniform and she couldn’t wait to get back to the dorms. The slaughtering had really traumatized her this year. It hurt a lot more than it did the past ones. Multiple times she wished she wasn’t an exorcist, but she also enjoyed the praise she would get from Adam and her sisters after an extermination. However, now, she was exhausted and didn’t want to talk to anyone.

 After everyone would shower, all of the sisters would line up in the dorm’s common area and preen each other’s wings. However, she really wanted to skip that, needing to cope from the shit she just went through. The images of dead, bloodied bodies were still fresh in her mind. As more pictures and memories stayed in her brain, the closer she was to crying.

“Head to the shower’s ladies! Preening will start in 30 minutes!” Lute yelled at the troops as they entered their dorms. Lute was Vaggie’s roommate and sort of friend. Vaggie didn’t know their relationship. Sometimes Lute would be a real bully and other times was a kind soul. It made no sense.

Vaggie let herself cry while she was in the shower. It would all go down the drain. No one had to know that she cried that night. She washed her face after she finished her sobbing session. Lute didn’t shower right after exterminations. She liked the smell of blood for some reason. She was a bit crazy to be honest.

So when Vaggie stepped out of the shower, she put on her favorite pajamas (no matter how bad she wanted a onesie, she couldn’t get one as heaven didn’t support age regression that much) and went over to her closet, ready to regress. She took out her bag that had coloring books, a small teddy bear, baby bottle, and baby pacifier. She knew that the baby pacifier would ruin her teeth but unfortunately, no age regression gear was sold in heaven. It was looked down upon. People saw it as defying God’s gift of age. Many also believed it wasn’t a coping mechanism and was something else. Something they also believed that god didn’t want.

She filled her bottle up with tap water and sat in her bed with crayons and her coloring book. Her bottle on the nightstand that separated her bed and Lutes. She held her teddy as she laid on her stomach, coloring angels in her book, facing the end of her bed.

She was having a good time, completely forgetting about the couple of hours prior. It was a good distraction. She felt happy and comfortable, even though she’d have to miss the wing preening. She would just have to tend to her wings later or get lute to help. 

Suddenly the door opened and Lute walked in. she immediately spotted Vaggie, clearly in a younger headspace. She just needed to grab some extra oil and a comb but had obviously walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see, because Vaggie immediately started crying.

“Vaggie? What’s… wrong?” It felt so weird to say. Lute was often caught up in her own cockiness after exterminations that it was hard for her to be kind to others.

Vaggie just cried harder. Sitting up and pulling her covers over her body to hide. She couldn’t bear to see the face of someone who would definitely bully her because of this.

“I ain’t mad with you, Vag” Lute said. She knew she was regressed and this wasn’t something else. Vaggie just wasn’t the type to do something so sinful.

Vaggie’s crying died down as she heard that. Lute waited until her sobs turned into sniffles.

“You not mad or dis’poin’ed?” she mumbled from under the covers.

“I’m not upset with you. I understand that it's a coping mechanism.” Lute said. Vaggie uncovered her head and looked at her. Her face was red and eyes puffy, tear marks stained her cheeks.

“You have to understand something though. Everyone else here will see you as weak and pathetic if they find out about this. To be honest, It’s kind of stupid, but I don't really care about what you do with your time. Just don’t tell anyone else about this. Acting childish is weak. Crying is weak. Clean yourself up, Vaggie, get out of that headspace and come downstairs. I saw your right wing got cut. You gotta get that fixed before it gets infected,” Lute said before grabbing her feather oil and comb and exiting.

Vaggie didn’t know what just happened. Did Lute support her? Or judge her? She didn’t know. She guessed that she did accept, just not support. But that pep talk got her feeling a bit bad. Maybe she should just get rid of this mechanism and be better. She needs to stop being weak. With anger and frustration, she threw her coloring book in the trash and hid away all of her other little gear. Maybe she’ll donate them or something. 

As she left her dorm, she thought about what Lute said. Regression was pathetic. She can’t use it anymore. Because Exorcists aren’t weak.

#agere fanfic #agere writing #safe agere #sfw agere #age regression #hazbin hotel agere #sfw littlespace #hazbin hotel age regression #hazbin hotel #fallen angel vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fandom agere

[gobbluthbutagirl]

i have only written a cover letter one time and they loved it so much they called me within an hour of me submitting it to schedule an interview and i had to drive like 30 minutes to get there and then i had to call the guy i was meeting twice before he even picked up and within like five minutes he was like, “well you only have one year of bakery experience so we don’t think you’re qualified.” (this was for a bakery doing literally the exact same thing i had been doing for the past year). and i was thinking then literally why the hell did you make me drive all the way out here then you stupid asshole could you not have just told me that over the phone. but i was like, “ok thank you for your time,” and then turned around and walked out and then driving back to my airbnb i got t-boned and my car was totaled and i was alone in a city where i knew literally nobody yet and everyone i did know lived 2300+ miles away and the tow truck man and everybody else pressured me into getting a rental car even though i said i didn’t want to drive and would just take an uber and then like ten minutes after i got the rental car i was in ANOTHER wreck because some guy merged on top of me and i had to call the tow truck man again and my phone was literally on 1% and he drove me all over the city for like two hours even though i just wanted to get an uber and go home and he bought me a full-sugar ginger ale at 7-eleven even though i told him i was on an insane person diet where you literally don’t consume sugar at all and i had to just act like i was gonna save it for later when really i wasn’t gonna drink it ever and he wanted to take me out to dinner too but i said i wasn’t hungry and the whole time i couldn’t tell if he was hitting on me or not and it was so uncomfortable and when i finally convinced him to drop me off at my airbnb i had been gone for 11 hours and hadn’t had anything to eat or drink and i immediately went online and deleted my indeed account and then stood in the kitchen in my underwear eating ricotta cheese straight from the container while sobbing. and then i took a shower and then i took way too many anti-anxiety pills and then i slept for like 18 hours. and that was over two years ago and i’m still mad about it. and THAT’S why i refuse to write a cover letter

#logically i know it wasn’t the cover letter’s fault but if i hadn’t written it maybe they never would have called me! #MAY 14 2021 TOP TEN WORST DAYS OF MY LIFE!!!

[verylostkirukunstuff]

` Peaceful Reader AU ` [ 1 ]

Weakling

- Madness combat x reader

Warning : Death(?) , Trigger , Emotional (?) , diseases

---------------- Start ----------------

" what-.what do you mean My child won't last more than two years? "

" We are sorry, your child has a very weak body. So they also had other diseases. We can't help them. "

One Doctor spoke and stare at the weakling grunt name ' y/n '

" the best You should spend time with your child before they can rest for eternity. "

After speaking, they left the room.

Your Pov :

I started to look at my mother She cried and hugged me tight, I feel weak, can't do anything, just lay in the hospital waiting to die.

" mom, don't cry.. I'm still here hehe.. "

I hugged my mother with a smile.

" My dear. I just-.. *sob* just feel unfair. "

Her words hurt my heart again.

" Can you at least smile at me? I want to see your smile again! "

" I-I will try.. "

She smiled at me as her tears fell. She kissed my forehead and left the room. She left two lilies on the flower jar. I hold 1 Lilly and look at it .

" I wish someone could help me be normal again, I don't want to be a weakling .. It's so alone.. I want to be free and be myself again.. "

I mumbled and stare at a lily. Later, an unknown door opened. I saw a mysterious figure in a cloak with stars on they face. They walked up to me and touched my forehead. I feel very warm and relaxed.. Unconsciously, my eyes began to close.

" Wake up , Weakling "

I heard a strange sound calling my name. I feel very dizzy.. but try to focus around.. Just a moment! Where am I?!!!

" Ah, you're finally awake "

"Excuse me, where am I? Who are you? So what am I doing here?? "

I have a lot of questions in my head. but don't want to ask-

" You're in my realm, I'm The Maker "

" The Maker?.. Hmm "

" You don't need to know much about me, weakling "

" Alright ! But can you tell me what I'm doing here?? "

I asked Them to know his answer.

" You should calm down. You're here because I have a job for you. "

They spoke and looked down at me.

" a job? for me? I'm only a child not even older. "

I mumbled and glance at him.

" Easy work, don't worry, you will become sane grunt, But the incurable disease remains with you. "

They began to go down on my level. he smirk about how short I was.

" Uhm.. Can you tell me what incurable disease means? "

They stunned at my word, like somethings very wrong about it?

" Didn't that doc tell you?"

I stare at they and shook my head.

" Hmm. Incurable disease in this sense is 'Ice blood' You will feel cold all the time and have a weak body. But I wonder why you can survive longer than normal grunt.. because the disease can only kill people in 2 days. "

They stare at me and pat me like I'm a little puppy.

"But it can also make grunt around you relaxed and calm, you know? "

They began to carry me and floating up, I see many stars on the sky It so beautiful.. I never seen this before..

" Well the job is live as sane grunt and make grunt around you calm . "

They closed my eyes and send me somewhere.. Will I able to be warm like that again?

- Present Time -

Somewhere at Nevada

Your POV : It been long time that I Live in Nevada and still not die yet-Many people died from the three criminals by joining the AAHW. But good for me I don't join the AAHW things.. Because I have a weak body plus Fighting is not for me, remember the job that the maker told me? yes ' live as sane grunt and make grunts around me calm. ' I rarely to show up on the public or many place, so many people don't recognize me.

Let get back to the point.. I'm sitting with a friend named.. ' Hank J. Wimbleton ' I know he's crazy person but he not attacking me and asking me for being his pal. I feel so curious right now- I decided to whisper to him.

" hey! how was your day "

Hank turn to me, damn he look so scary too.

" Good. "

" that's a great, I will go now we can hangout tomorrow ! "

I nervous about his answer would be..

" can I follow you. "

Yes, Like I thought he would said that

" no no! hank.. I want to have my personally space too- "

" You know that, you can't stop me. "

" If you follow me, I will not let you hangout tomorrow. "

I sigh and hug him before walking away, he stunned about 5 minutes and wave back at me.

walking away from him is not really good choice but I will let him choose about follow me or go back to his place. I walking back to my house that look like abandoned house, of course.. I made my house look sinister so nobody will enter my house while I'm resting :)

I opened the door, inside my house clean don't even have trash on the table or on the floor. I walked up to the second floor. there only have a bed for one grunt, I changed my clothes and took off the scarf and hat. another day of life , another day of memories .

" Don't worry about your life time, [ Y/N ] . "

" You are their weakness, you know? "

(( hello! this is my first time that writing this stuff if there have some mistake . I'm apologies! TvTT

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #peaceful!readerxmadcom