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tamayakii · 6 months

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Fathers Love

notes: honestly i went in so hard without a plan this kinda fell through so I'm so sorry if it sucked, i wrote this in like, an hour with no beta reader or breaks. Sorry homies, this is all u get until i get more inspo <3 tags: @inuyasha330 warnings: angst, daddy daughter angsty, the way i was tempted to make this emotionally incesty but i DIDNT- thank me for that. anyways, dives over the pier.

The atmosphere felt thick around you, sitting in an unfamiliar environment. Your only comfort was your older brother but even then he felt distant, you saw the stars of the galaxy and more; you saw things that amazed you.

“So this is what I missed out on?” whispering to him, when you had gotten your powers he had offered you a trip through the stars but you had rejected it; terrified of the powers granted to you through your DNA.

Days before the incident in Chicago, your father had forced you to get a superhero suit when he found out that you too were blessed with the viltrumite powers, promising that he too would train you as he did Mark but; that no matter what you were still his little girl.

You were always his little girl, when you came into this world Nolan had shed the first tears he ever would shed; he was so fearsomely protective of you. Never letting you go out alone, finally seeing the purpose of the backpack leashes marketed towards parents, always always kept you close to him. Growing up he was your hero, he was your everything.

Now the suit feels uncomfortably tight with the memory of his words when he saw it on you for the first time, “just like me” he said, back then it was a compliment but now it was your fear.

“Yeah.. it’s amazing. Isn’t it?” Mark replied in turn, looking at you. There’s a pause before he puts his hand on your shoulder, “it’s gonna be okay.” he answers, you want to believe him. You wanted to but your gut told you otherwise but you stifled it. “I hope so.”

The rest of the flight passed by quickly, with sleeping and eating orange-coloured goo there wasn’t much else to do besides daydream. After a while; all the stars looked the same, passing you by like blurs.

You wondered about where your father went, leaving Chicago a mess, beating your brother to near death- Leaving the world without a word to you or your mother. How many stars away was he? You were left no time to wonder before Nuolzot announced your arrival, waking your brother up.

The skies were pink turning into blue, and purple buildings and large arches decorated the sandy planet. The spaceship hummed as it slowly landed, a horde of blue bug people awaited your arrival.

Cautiously you followed Mark, so close that you were practically his shadow. While he stared in wonderment, you looked for the meteor showers that were supposedly destroying the planet, but there was no sign of them. Only clear skies, no orange fiery balls of death. You held onto Mark's forearm, your gut twisting as Nuolzot took you further from the ship.

“Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving? Where are the meteors?” Mark questions, you let out a small breath. So he noticed too, you stared at the alien from behind Mark. Face twisting when he answers, forgetting about his own planet's demise that he had cried out about in your backyard before finding your brother at college.

Mark stopped, “The ones that kill billions?” He questions slowly. Stepping in a way that covered you from Nuolzot, as if he was gonna attack as an answer to Mark. But only to leave you two in confusion about his answer,

“The Monarch will explain all.” You begin to wonder who the Monarch was, what it was. Was there no one else to help this planet? Why come all this way when there must be nearby planets that could help?

“Your Majesty!!” The alien calls out, pulling you out of your thoughts, “May I present, Invincible and His sibling, Of Earth!” You and Mark stammer before bowing, figuring it was the most respectful thing to do.

“Hello, Kids.” Shock runs through you like a viper, making your heart drop and your limbs go numb. “It’s been a while.” Your bottom lip quivers and you look up- Dad. There he is, tears fill your lash line as you rack your head for answers,

“Dad?” Marks voice sounds like the wind, moving farther away. Your brows further, shaking your head as you watch Mark approach him. Memories of childhood and happiness flood through you like a dam broken, the love for your father washes over you before something else hits you. Anger, Despair, Sadness.

It was like looking the devil in the eye, the same one that had killed thousands. Your fists clench as you step back, lowering your head as you gaze at him through your eyelashes. Body quivering with the amount of power it takes to not scream at him, to hit him, to ask him why he ruined everything.

And Mark hugs him. He fucking hugs him. It’s like a knife in your heart, biting your lip so hard you taste the iron in your blood. The longer their embrace goes, the longer your heart squeezes. Emotions wrap around you like an old friend amidst the eye of a hurricane, words become distant as you remember all of the pain he put you through, put your mother. Your brother.

You’re brought back to reality when Marks hand touches your shoulder, Nolans eyes catching yours making you flinch from his gaze. “Guess they don’t know you like we do… Fuck you.” Thats the last word your brother says before he takes off, for a few seconds you look back at him. The man that is your father, he goes to reach out; mouth opening and you take off just like Mark. Catching up to him, tears being blown away by the harsh oncoming wind.

But despite all that, he catches up to you; “you’ll never make it home on your own!” You speed up, leaving Mark and Nolan behind. You wanted your silence to hurt him, to cut him deeper than he cut you but it wasn’t possible because he made a hole in your heart.

Mark catches back up to you and Nolan follows again, bargaining with Mark. Promising a ship back home, that Nuolzot wasn’t lying. That they do need help. You let out a yell of frustration; can’t they leave you alone? If you had to fly back to earth on your own you will.

You keep flying, even when Mark doesn’t follow anymore. You keep going until you feel your body adjust to the lack of oxygen, till your tears float in the endless void of space.

“Wait! Wait up!” You stop at your brother's voice, lips quivering. “Please. Wait.”

“Look.. just five minutes-” He bargains “What?! No! Absolutely not! I- No! Are you insane?!” You push him away, but he floats back, angering you more. He grabs your forearms,

“Just five minutes is all. Is there is actual trouble; then we’ll help them out. If not, we can leave. It’s just five minutes.” Mark explains, his dark eyes are wide and begging.

“..fine. But i’m not saying anything to him.” Mark nodded, before pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s okay,” he answers gently before flying with you beside him.

“Five minutes.” Mark orders, Nolan looks at you but you don’t look at him,

“don’t you wanna say anything to me?” Nolan asks- arms out in defeat. He expected this, expected hatred, expected yelling or anything. Anything but silence. He hated silence. Especially from his little girl, that hurt him the most. Both you and Mark flew down to the civilization in response, following Nolan through the building. Mark and him made small talk- more like argued.

You spaced out, trying to bide back the pain that holds you tight, you look up to see another bug alien approach your father and kiss him. Your mouth flies open; Words are exchanged but they’re tuned out.

Seconds feel like hours, Nolan walks to a crib and realisation hits you hard. You feel sick, he made a new family. You’ve been replaced. You’re not his little girl anymore, you were nothing to him. Bile rises through your throat,

“I’m gonna be sick” You shout, turning and sprinting out the door to barf into a potted plant, Mark storms out afterwards and Nolan goes chasing, his bug mate as well. “Oh dear- are you okay?” She asks, holding the baby in one arm and the other rubbing your back. You feel bad, normally you would be thankful for any pity when you barf but now her touch makes you wanna scream. Shrugging her off, you sneer at her before storming off as well.

You see your father and brother, rage making you see red. “What I did on Earth was..” Your fist connects with Nolans jaw as he speaks but it only makes him stumble a bit.

“Fuck you! Just fuck you!! You get to come to earth and make a family- make us love you as if you loved us and then you fuck off to make a new one!?” You cry out, your voice breaking from the strain on your vocal cords. Nolan rubs his jaw, his eyes hold anything but anger, but youre blind to it.

“Please... It’s not what you think.” He pleads, holding his hands out. You slap them away and push him,

“You put me into this fucked up world! You promised me you’d never leave me and look what you did! You left me! You almost killed Mark! Mom cries every night and i don’t know what to do with myself!” You hit his chest, “you said i was your little girl but you left and made a new family like we were nothing! Well fuck you!” You hit his chest over and over again, to no avail.

“Please. Listen.” He grabs your wrists, “You have to listen. You and your brother need to help these people; if not, viltrumite will kill them. They already know i left my post.” Tears roll down your cheeks, and you lean your head back and thrust into his nose.

“Post!? We were just some fucking post to you!? Why do you care about them? Why not us? What about me!?” Headbutting him made no difference, you struggle in his grip. The sight of his babygirl crying broke him; he was supposed to protect you and all he did was hurt you.

“Look i.. I needed you and your brothers' help. They’re good people. We need to save them”

“What about me dad? What about me? Where were you when i needed saving?” your words fall more gently, and you press your forehead on his chest. You wanted to be his little girl again; giggling in his arms as he swung you around.

“I promise, we can talk about all of this soon. But you have to help me save these people.”

And like the little girl who did anything for her daddy's approval, you caved. You hung onto that promise, not realizing that he wouldn’t be able to keep it but for now, it comforted you, warm like your father's love.

#invincible x reader #invincible #nolan grayson x reader #mark grayson x reader #wow thats not alot of tags...

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ifangirlalot · 9 months

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˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒 2ˎˊ˗ | starring the fellas

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

~smut!~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] too many to pick out, just a shit ton of nsfw shit.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

✧˚ mike ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or bottom? Mike is a perfect even split between sub and dom. He's kind of a pussy, so don't expect any hardcore shit when he's on top. But like?? He expects?? Rough treatment?? When he's the sub?? Lmao, what a hypocrite.

What are his favorite positions? Sub Mike likes to be ridden while being tied down, it gives him a good view. Dom Mike also likes to be ridden, except this time your hands are the ones tied, behind your back, and he has the tail like a leash and he can pull it to make your back arch, thus putting boobs in his face. So he can *blublublublublub* all in them mfs.

How freaky is he? Depends on the day and the mood. Sometimes Mike can be quite adventurous. He can wanna fuck in the bathroom or the janitors' closet at school, but he can also pussy out and just wait until you get home and just fuck in the basement or in his bedroom. He can wanna be teased and edged, or he can just give you a quick pound and that's that. And then sometimes, he'll want to experiment with new kinks and then sometimes, he wants to be boring and basic.

How noisy is he? Mike is a whimperer and a whiner. So, he's pretty noisy most of the time.

How long does he usually last? Usually right at twenty minutes.

Protection or no? Are you kidding? His parents would kill him if he got you pregnant, of course he uses protection.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ trevor ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or bottom? Trevor is a top. He did genuinely try to be a bottom once, but being called a "good boy" just made him feel like a dog.

What are his favorite positions? Doggy, but specifically over the Ectomobile hood. He likes the idea of driving it and thinking Yo, I fucked her on this thing. Even if he does get a hard-on in the middle of the road because of it.

How freaky is he? Moderately freaky. I mean, he's not looking to call you a bunch of names or beat the fuck out of you for pleasure, but he's down with some car sex in a parking lot, and for the occasional spank to your ass, and also for some teasing with sex toys. How noisy is he? He's more of a heavy breather, but occasionally you'll slide across a vein on his dick that he's sensitive about that gets a moan out of him. How long does he last? Somewhere in twenty-five-to-thirty-minute range. Sometimes it's longer, sometimes it's shorter. Protection or no? Yeah. His car floor is like covered in condom wrappers, it's kind of funny because he doesn't clean his car and he drives Phoebe and Podcast to school sometimes and they're like "?? The fuck??" ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ richie ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or a bottom? Both, but he thinks he's way more of a top than he actually is. Which is a lie. Richie Tozier is your bitch. Period. What are his favorite positions? All of them. He can't pick a favorite. He likes reverse cowgirl, because ass. He likes being rode, because boobs. He likes going down on you, because he likes to see your face contort in pleasure. Yeah, any position you do he can find a reason to love it. How freaky is he? He's freaky, but a lot less than you'd think. He does have his limits. One of them is that he refuses physical violence. He'll degrade you all you want, but he won't lay a finger on you in a negative away, no matter how much you beg. How noisy is he? It's Richie- when the fuck is he ever quiet? He's noisy, he's loud, and he's not ashamed of it. He wants everyone to know that he's getting laid. How long does he last? Eh. Fifteen minutes or so. He makes it count, though.

Protection or no? He's like Boris in the way that he sometimes he does forget, but that's alright, you're on the pill anyways. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

#💭 ۫⠀PREFERENCE.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚#⊹ . SMUT ۫ .#mike wheeler #trevor spengler #richie tozier #mike wheeler smut #trevor spengler smut #richie tozier smut #mike wheeler x reader #trevor spengler x reader #richie tozier x reader #mike wheeler x you #trevor spengler x you #richie tozier x you #stranger things #ghostbusters afterlife #it #it chapter one #it chapter two

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 1 year

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Come with me on this journey okay:

-Stay-at-home-wheelchair-Dad Jake Sully babysits literally all children. His own, whatever fosters Norm has at the time, Tonowari’s, and Tsu’sey and Sylwanin’s. He is the babysitting and parenting God.

-When they’re really rowdy he puts them all on leashes and has them pull him around the street yelling “MUSH, MUSH!”

-Eytukan is retired, so he helps Mo’at run her free clinic. Jake spends like all his free time there, “helping out” with his hoard of children. It’s really just a nice open area for the kids to play in, big fields and equipment in clear view while Jake helps with physical therapy.

-The clinic is where he and Neytiri met, he didn’t have the money for treatment on vet benefits after he was paralyzed in the marines so he ended up at the free clinic. Neytiri volunteers for her mother on the weekends, and she bullied him into enjoying life again.

-Sylwanin and Jake are pretend frenemies, she pretends to hate him because he stole her little sister AND managed to get married and have kids before her and Tsu’tey who have been dating for like, their entire lives. Jake says it’s because they have yet to be blown up, and he can help her with that.

-Every time Jake wheels his way in with all the kids Sylwanin goes “Oh, it’s you,” and Jake says “Yeah yeah, just your brother in law, not like I should get any respect around here,” and then he hands her her exact Starbucks order and offers to have Lo’ak throw up on her most hated patient.

-(when he was little Lo’ak could throw up on command)

-Sylwanin loves all her nieces and nephews equally but she especially enjoys Spider, because before he was adopted he was in the clinic fairly often for suspicious injuries. She hasn’t shaken the urge to watch him like a hawk yet.

-Eytukan and Jake are Boys in a way that disgusts all the women in their family. They go golfing together, and Eytukan accuses Jake of cheating via proximity to the ground.

-Lo’ak was DETERMINED to golf with them for years and when they actually let him come he cried he got so bored.

-Neteyam would never admit this under pain of death, but he enjoys golfing.

-Spider, Neteyam, Ao’nung, and Lo’ak are all deeply obsessed with American Ninja Warrior, so Tonowari, Jake, and Tsu’tey built a course for them. They then started to get a little into it and it got serious. To this day out of everyone they know Jake is the only one to have completed the salmon ladder, and then he hauled himself off the mat and back into his chair and Tonowari and Tsu’tey had to reconsider their sexualities.

-When Kiri, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Spider, and Ao’nung were all babies Jake went to the store with them all strapped to him or in a basket on his wheelchair and someone called the cops cause they thought he stole all those varying ethnicity babies.

-Jake calls it The Great Baby Heist of 2077 and Tsu’tey always responds to this story by asking what idiot would want that many babies?

-Sometimes Sylwanin gets too friendly with Jake and quickly pretends to get mad at him.

-Tonowari and Tsu’tey became friends by both being confused as hell by their friend Jake. When they met him he was all depressed and rotting away alone in the free clinic. Now he’s so high energy he raced Lo’ak once and threw himself out of his chair to get extra momentum to beat Lo’ak over the arbitrary finish line. He had a pool installed for Kiri to just float in and stare at the sky. He bakes cookies with Tsireya balanced on his chair between his legs so he can help her crack the eggs. He beat Tsu’tey in a wrestling match in the gym the other day. His enthusiasm for life scares them, they spend a lot of time side eyeing each other behind him.

-Sylwanin (secretly) likes Jake because he’s a good father and husband to her kids, and he’s funny and a good person, but she likes him even more for the energy he brings out in her husband. Tsu’tey is NOT GOOD at making friends, he’s awkward and he’s a weirdo. But now he plays tennis twice a week with Jake, Norm, and Tonowari and spends like every evening she has to work at the Sully house for dinner.

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gffa · 10 months

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Dick sneaks out to chase down a case about missing girls that Batman and Robin have been working on, ending up solving the case and freeing the girls by himself, while Alfred frets with worry about how Dick's putting himself in danger and throwing away his youth on this crusade and how he puts so much on his young shoulders. And now I'm thinking about just how many times I've seen Alfred step in and steer Bruce towards a gentler demeanor when dealing with Dick's determination to go down this path's crusade. How often we talk about Bruce could not have stopped him from it, that Robin was a leash on the kid, rather than putting Dick in harm's way for his own need to fight criminals--but the same is true of Alfred. He watches that kid, he worries about him, he's afraid that Dick is throwing away the years of his youth on this fight and if he'll regret, he never relaxes because he knows Dick's two seconds away from sneaking out to go fight people grown adults who are legitimately trying to kill him. But Alfred also sees the same thing Bruce does--that they're not going to stop someone that determined. And Alfred sees even further than Bruce does sometimes, in that Dick's desperate to prove to Bruce that he can be trusted to do this job, to justify the trust Bruce has placed in him, and that Bruce needs to gentle himself with the kid, even when he's terrified that Dick could have gotten himself hurt. Yeah, Dick put himself in danger without Batman there to watch over him, but he did it for the same reason that Bruce started this path, too. That Bruce didn't put that spark of angry need for justice in that kid, Dick came by that all on his own, the night his parents were murdered, and neither Bruce nor Alfred were pulling him into something that he didn't want, they were instead giving him shape and form to channel that need. Alfred has never liked this choice of theirs, to dress up in costumes and go punch criminals in the face, but he doesn't stand by out of passivity, but instead because he recognizes that Dick was going to do something and this was the best he could do to help shape the kid into something that would survive it. Including stepping in to help him behind Bruce's back or straight up saying, "Yeah, I helped him and you are going to be gentle with him, because that kid is desperately trying to prove himself to you and you're the only stability he has and you of all people should know what he's feeling about needing to help people." Alfred can't force either of them into a life that he would prefer for them, he can only help provide guard rails on the roads they've chosen, but what a difference that has made for them both. I love Bruce and Dick's relationship, I love it because the question of, "Where do you take a character who fights crime because of the trauma of his lost parents?" has a fascinating answer in, "You have him--step by painful step--grow into being a parent himself, learning to open himself up to being gentle with people he loves and fears losing, to learn to trust those he loves even though they might die." and, when Dick's own losses are mirrored in Bruce's, driving the parallels home even further, it's so important for Bruce to learn to be a father to this kid, as his own father figure nudges him back onto the right path. Alfred is such an important part of that character arc for both of these characters, he is part of the thematic bridge of parents and children that runs through the Batman family of stories, and his role of guiding Bruce into being a better father--to heal from the loss of Thomas and Martha Wayne who should have been there to guide him--by telling him, in the most British gentleman way possible, to look the fuck around and see what's going through that kid.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #robin year one #long post

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zjpg · 8 months

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just a girl

'birthday girl'

last - m.list - next

[june - addi's bday!]

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charles_leclerc happy birthday best friend❤️ -> tagged: addilynleblanc

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addilynleblanc thank you cha❤️💙

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landonorris Happy birthday AL 🫶🏻

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addilynleblanc thank you LN🫶🏻

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talking to pierre and arthur again felt nice, though she still carried this burden of guilt with her every time she speaks with any of them, including lando. she's still learning to deal with the neausiating feeling that takes over her stomach when she sees them, she smile and waves.

"happy birthday!" her team jumped out from behind the tables as she walked into the 'energy station'. she jumps a little before smiling at the decorations, cake, party hats, and of course her team. max looks like he was forced to put on the party hat but he still wore a smile as he stood in the middle of everyone else, right in front of the cake.

"awe, thanks guys." she giggles and walks over to her team, hugging christian and max. nolan and claire stood back as one of the pr managers followed the youngest driver with a camera. "what flavor is the cake?" she asked.

max let out a chuckle, "red velvet" her favorite, they remembered!

they sang happy birthday to her in a mix of english and french, though they butchered it enough to make even max laugh at it. she blew out the two candles on her pink and purple cake before she cut it. "maxie, you want a a slice?" she smiled and tilted her head. max would usually deny, but it's her birthday and she's been through a lot, he knows how much it mean to her if he said.

that's something everyone finds so endearing about addi, she finds so much joy and happiness in these small things. it's a childlike trait, and maybe that's because she never had a real childhood to begin with. her parents needed her to mature quickly so she could also mature on the track, especially when it came to racing against older kids. she needed to be professional and mature when she was at the track. she was 4 when she started.

she cut everyone a piece of cake who wanted it, leaving herself a very small piece. she doesn't like to eat junk before a race, she likes having a good healthy breakfast before each race. the red bull team always buys her packs of her favorite red bull flavors. but they actually made a picture book of her first year with them.

after the celebration they had practice to get to, game faces on. she was getting happy birthday wishes the whole day, some of the drivers gave her cute little trinkets or bought her some of her favorite snacks, or in kimi's case, money and a pat on her head.

addi is actually really loved by the older drivers, even kimi has a soft spot for her. she has the nickname of 'kid' along with the younger drivers. each driver has given her nothing but praise over the last year that she's been driving. and it's really special to her to have a bond with the older drivers, especially because her bond with her dad isn't the smoothest at the moment.

"happy birthday, kid!" lewis smiled and hugged the young girl when he first saw her, hamilton falls in line with the older group of drivers. he brought roscoe to the track just for her that day, "does this mean i can show him around red bull?" she smirked.

lewis sighed but smiled, "i guess" he exaggerated. later tiktok's of roscoe walking around with addi around red bull and the paddock would be posted on the f1 account.

"hey birthday girl" lando smiles at the younger, she was holding roscoe's leash as the pair hugged, "get anything good today?"

she shrugged, "roscoe." she giggled and pointed at the dog. the brit laughed back and pet the bulldog, "i got red velvet cake, a collage book... thing?" she chuckled, "and like 3 packs of red bull as well."

"red bull is just in your bloodstream at this point."

"it's my secret to passing you every weekend." she joked with a wink. lando wasn't having it, he gave her that 'oh yeah?' look before grabbing her waist and tickling her. roscoe tried joining in the tickle fight but couldn't quite reach their level, so he barks.

"okay, okay, stop!" she tried but he wasn't giving in, "i'll let you by this weekend!"

he stopped, "really?"

"nope!" she and roscoe ran, though the bulldog wasn't much of a runner. "c'mon roscoe, c'mon we gotta get away from the bad man!"

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addilynleblanc 21

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addilynleblanc thank you for all the birthday wishes! and thank you to whoever sent the flowers, they're beautiful 💜💜

pierregasly Happy birthday, Addi-Loo -> addilynleblanc IT WAS YOU!?!?!?!?! -> pierregasly 💜💜

landonorris Happy birthday, thank you for teaching me everything you know 😎 -> addilynleblanc thank you dodo ily

charles_leclerc HB forever friend -> addilynleblanc 🫶🏻

claire.newbet glad you liked the cake, beauty -> addilynleblanc 🫶🏻

arthur_leclerc Happy 21 -> addilynleblanc 🫶🏻

taglist: @love4lando @fairiepoems @leilanixx @ietss @charli123456789 @ayoanna @enhacolor @be-your-coffee-pot @alixnsuperstxr @vellicora @tpwkstiles @lndonrris @willowpains @gaslysainz @blueanfield @cixrosie

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skunkox · 2 months

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Dad Sam? Dad Sam.

What if like, in the future, Sam and Darlin' adopt a kid? Or kids rather. 2 siblings. Let's say a 10 and 3 year old.

The youngest is afraid of them, and the oldest is afraid of starting over. Gonna call them Thing 1 and Thing 2 cause there's no way they get raised in the with the pack as extended family and not grow into being hell raisers.

Sam is extremely awkward with the kids. Darlin pretended as if this was an average day, trying to figure out what peeked their interest. Thing 1 was the only one willing to speak directly to them, and always with short responses.

Thing 2 was the first to start warming up to them. It actually happened pretty quickly. Thing 2 was having trouble sleeping. Sam and Darlin were cuddling on the couch. Darlin goes to get snacks, but when they come back, their spot was taken by a sleeping Thing 2. They now new the magic of sleeping on Sam. Darlin was but a lil butt hurt.

Thing 1 had been eyeing Darlin's old skateboard. Wouldn't touch, but often was caught giving it a look over. That was enough for Darlin to drag then to the skate shop. They practice after after school and on weekends.

It surprisingly took seeing Darlin shifted for the first time a whole month after their adoption for Thing 2 to speak to them. They never stopped. Turns out the lil shit really likes animals. But only the ones that are extremely dangerous to be around. Thing 2 has to be put on a kiddy leash at parks and zoos.

The kids may or may not have been witnesses to Darlin fighting. Maybe Thing 1 thinks they can be just like them. No. Sam full heartedly disagrees. Had to have a sit down about throwing themselves into dangerous situations and recklessly. Explained that its a miricle Darlin can still walk. Sams not stupid. He knows this wouldn't be the only time the kids would find themselves in any sorta trouble. If they we gonna fight, at least fight smart. Sam would go forward to teaching them to box.

This conversation was extended to everyone. Even Thing 2. Much more kindly. Darlin got read the whole riot act behind closed doors. It was a needed conversation but probably the last time it's happened.

I've generally got a lot more to say on this but like should I? Lokkey wanna put it in a book thing but. Please send help. I saw something about the pack boys being parents but not a mention of Sam. Prior to the last video of Sam leaving, I kept thinking about how if someone in the clan turned a near child (for life saving reasons), they would be placed with Sam and Darlin'

Please send help.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted darlin #redacted sam #redacted tank #what have i done?#parent au #redacted headcanons

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midnightmoonkiss · 1 year

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Bloody Kiss

Wednesday Addams X GN! Vampire! Reader

Blood was something that never bothered Wednesday, in fact.. she’s become quite accustomed to the taste after having been dating you for almost a year now.

You who drinks blood for lunch, and maybe as a treat after dinner.

You, a vampire.

Or, well, more accurately a ‘hybrid.’ Blood and human food, you required both to live.

Of course, it’s only pigs blood. As if Nevermore would allow it’s more fang-y occupants to consume human blood on a day-to-day basis, it’s far too expensive.

Besides, Nevermore is already on rocky terms with Jericho, no need to worsen it with the knowledge that donated blood would go to them and their blood thirsty residents.

Fake blood and pigs blood are the only options, of course they bring out the real deal for parents weekend but alas, thats once a year.

And so here you are, stuck consuming pigs blood as it doesn’t contain that artificial tang you’ve grown to hate.

Normally other kids stay away from the vampire table during lunch because of the nauseating scent of iron, but not Wednesday. No, sometimes she’d even sit with you. That, or she’d give you a look from across the quad or cafeteria that screams “come sit with me.”

How could you refuse?

She’s basically got you on a leash at this point, not that you minded.

Your lips could be stained a deep red and yet still.. she’d take your breath away with her own plump ones.

It was hard to tell if she liked the kiss or the taste of blood on your tongue more.

You discovered her lack of care for the crimson liquid a few months ago. You had been teasing her when she requested a kiss, taking a big swig of your drink before showing her the redness of your tongue and teeth, thinking it’d freak her out or cause her to rethink herself.

It’s not like you didn’t want a kiss, you just wanted her to know it’d be bloody.

And boy, did she not care.

She didn’t care for that bratty attitude of yours nor the implication that youd think she’d give a damn about something so insignificant. As if blood could deter her when she knew exactly what she wanted.

So, she grabbed you by the back of your head, instantly wiping that cocky smile from your face and replacing it with shock as she crashed her lips against yours. It was almost as if she was trying to prove a point with the way she practically licked all traces of blood from your mouth.

You would’ve been grossed out had you been a normal person. But as a vampire.. she was intoxicating.

You were even more wrapped around her finger from then on.

Her kisses always made you dizzy, but there’s something different in those specific ones. Passion burned like hot embers behind them, you always felt as though you could pass out either from them or the look in her eyes you’d see if you were to open your own during the kiss.

She doesn’t even mind kissing you with human blood on your tongue.. or more specifically, her own.

Wednesday was never one to back away from morbid curiosity, and with a vampire as a lover and her own twisted enjoyment of pain, you knew full well she’d eventually ask you to bite her.

However, she knew just how intimate of an act that was.

Vampires may be ancient, but there was always passion behind a bite. Even if that passion lead to someone’s demise, it was seen as taboo in communities to bite someone without that flare.

So, you’ve never bitten someone before. You were a fang virgin, as weird of a term that was.

The night she decided you would taste her own blood was a moonless one, the stars in the sky being the only things to light up the inky black abyss.

Candles lit up her dark and empty dorm room, prepared and ready for you to sink your teeth into her flesh, the atmosphere beyond romantic.

She whispered poems of devotion against your skin as she pressed gentle kisses against you, relaxing you as she slowly guided your mouth down to her neck.

The second your sharp fangs sank into her pale skin.. she knew she’d be addicted to the feeling for the rest of her life.

The sharp sting, the feeling of blood gushing into your awaiting mouth, the bubbling pleasure and passion from the venom that burned her skin, Wednesday couldn’t help but cradle you against her.

The second you pulled away, gazing hazily into her clouded black eyes, her lips were once again on yours.

Human blood tasted very different from pigs.

Wednesday Addams would never let romance die if it meant she could continue having you just like this.

You’d do anything for her, and the devil himself knows just all the sins she’d commit for you.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams #suggestive #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #vampire reader #gn!reader #tw. blood #blood #dom wednesday addams

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i-cant-sing · 2 years

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I’m just picturing ushijima messing up a serve and it accidentally hits the reader who is filling up water bottles for the team. The hall hits them right in the stomach, knocking the wind out of them. And Ushijima is just absolutely devastated. This guy cannot believe that he just served a ball into y/n, who is a “frail kitten”

You’d think he killed you, well in his eyes he practically did. Even the whole team is shell shocked because it hurts to even return on of his serves, let alone get hit in the stomach by one. A large black bruise forms quickly after the accident, making him feel even worse then before. Ushijima makes it a rule that you’re not allowed to leave the blench during their practices.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO CAUSE NOW I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT A SMALL KITTEN'S FACE BEING REPLACED BY READER'S FACE AND IN USHIJIMA'S MIND, YOU'RE NOW PERMANENTLY SEEN AS THAT- "A FRAIL KITTEN"

The moment the ball hit you, everything came to a stop. The bottle you were holding, drops and you do as well, curling into yourself as you hold your stomach and start crying. That's when they all come running to you.

"Y/n? Y/n, are you okay?" Semi asks while Ushijima quietly turns you over on your back. You're just groaning in pain, crying as you shake your head, and Ushjima has to pry your hands away and lift up your shirt to see your reddening stomach.

"Shit." Tendou whispered. Ushijima simply picked you up and shushed you when you whined, running out of the gymnasium to the nearest hospital, with Tendou and Semi in tow, while the rest of the team stayed behind to explain to the coach what happened.

"Nothing's broken, so that's good. However, she did have some internal bleeding on her right side. We've fixed that but she will need a lot of rest, avoid strenuous exercises for a while. She might experience shortness of breath, abdominal pain and nausea for a while, but that's okay. But if she starts bleeding from her nose, eyes, ears or there's blood in her stool, she needs to come see me immediately." The doctor told Ushijima while you slept in the room.

Soon they brought you back to the dorms and Ushijima tucked you in bed, brushing the hair out of your face as a tear finally slipped from his eye. He did this to you. You have a large bruise because Ushijima slapped the ball out of court, and it hit you.

Wait. What were you doing near the court? Didn't he tell you to stay put on the bench?

You were filling up water bottles for them, and as sweet as it was, you almost died because of him. You're lucky the ball didn't break any bone, or else Ushijima would've actually thought that he'd killed you.

This is your fault as much as its his. He told you to stay on the bench for a reason, which was so that you dont get hit by the balls. And you didn't listen! If you weren't so bruised up, Ushijima might've finally punished you, but you need to rest.

He doesn't why you don't listen to him. Don't you know that he only wants the best for you? Does he need to tie down to the bench? Put a leash on you? Cant you see-

Wait. Leash. Ushijima's seen some parents putting leashes on their unruly kids.

Maybe that's something he could look into, considering how useful it'd be when you try to get lost in the sea of people during tournaments. Hell, he could even tie your leash to the bench.

Ushijima pulled out his phone and googled "child safety harnesses".

He's not losing his frail little kitten ever again.

#yandere ushijima x reader #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere ushijima #yandere shiratorizawa #yandere haikyuu #platonic yandere #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima fic #ushijima fluff #ushijima imagine #yandere tendou

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atinylittlepain · 2 months

Text

Atlantic City

college!steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy universe

wordcount | 3.2K

content info | 18+ smut, WASPy parental trauma, misogynistic father boooooo, little angst, New Jersey, mostly fluff though

a/n | special thanks to orange anon who isn't anon anymore - apologies this one took a while :')

.........................................................

He can’t sleep. He’s in the plaid room again, close and quiet and suddenly he’s small, young, swallowed up by the thin pall of the past. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if this was such a good idea, but Andy’s not even here for him to tell her that. Down the hall in the guestroom because his mother hadn’t even given them the chance to protest that no, both adults, no, same room is fine. She had already dropped Andy’s bag in the guest room and his bag in the plaid room and given him a pointed look about the whole thing that meant silence, he knows it well.

And he’s considering it, he is, padding down the hallway and slipping in under the covers with her, breathing her in and breathing the detergent his mother has used since he was little out. But something is stopping him, keeping him tangled and curled up in the plaid room, that smalling, that suddenly twelve again thing.

They had flipped a coin before spring break. Which set of parents would be met first, and nobody was winning, really, in this situation. Andy took it in stride when it became clear they’d be paying a visit to Chip and Diane Harrington, shrugging, dramatic warbling of that John Mellencamp song, a little ditty about Chip and Diane, two American kids causing parental trauma in the Heartland. He had laughed at the time. He’s not really laughing now.

Dinner had been as tense and tight as a closed fist. At first, his parents had behaved like Andy wasn’t even there, directing all their questions, all their scrutiny onto him, the usual rundown of yes, decent grades, and yes, how great, the post-grad job he has lined up, yes, mom, yes, dad. And when their attention turned to Andy, never one to back down, ever, the conversation had curdled from a question about her thesis to her asking Diane about her multiple admissions to the state hospital for “exhaustion,” air quotes necessary to connote the dose of skepticism Andy parceled around the word while Chip glared at her and Diane grew skittish, smiling nervous and talking in that high, airy voice of hers.

Steve had managed to steer far enough away from that with a tact that can only be found in the children of parents like Chip and Diane, always on the defense in that way. But when they had gone up to bed, his father had stopped him, hand curled, clawed, on his shoulder and I’m not sure about this one, champ. Not sure about this one, right, and got a mouth, doesn’t she? Something else was said about a firm hand and a tight leash while his stomach started to swirl and sicken. He didn’t say anything, just nodded, the smallest okay, dad, goodnight, dad, and he hates himself for that, tossing and turning in his twin bed because he hates that he didn’t, what? Defend her? Snap and snarl back against the closing hand, closing jaw of his dad? Not that Andy needs anyone to defend her, not that it matters what Chip thinks, not really, but still, but still.

He’s not sure how long he’s been lying there when his door cracks open, the muffled sound of footsteps, a hand curling on his hip, skating up to his ribs and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder, just inches to the very edge of his bed to make as much room as he can for her to slip in behind him, her palm coming to rest splayed over the center of his chest, her lips pressed to the nape of his neck as she settles around him.

“I’m sorry, I think I was a dick to your mom.”

“It’s okay, she’s so heavily medicated I don’t think she’ll remember it in the morning.” She hums, her legs tangling up close with his, perfectly curled into and around each other and barely fitting on this stupid twin bed, but it’s the greatest relief to have her here with him, like the walls aren’t closing in, like his ribs aren’t pinching and pulling taut, her palm over his heart reminding him to pump blood like this, breathe like this. And when she presses a kiss to the shell of his ear, for whatever reason, that’s the thing that finally breaks the thick heat swelling and stuck behind his eyes, water starting to pool and spill, turning his vision into stained glass.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He tries to speak, but a strange sound breaks in his throat instead, a little like a sob, but softer, her hands holding him through the shake.

“I always forget how much I hate being here.” And that is but isn’t all of it. Yes, he forgets how much he hates being here, but he also forgets how small he feels being here, how young. He forgets the fights, and the silence that was somehow worse. He forgets the seemingly constant alternation in those last few years of sleeping in Eddie’s or Robin’s bed simply because he didn’t like being small and alone in this big house. And it’s a good thing, he thinks, that he can forget about these things in the new life he has. But it’s difficult to remember that the plaid room and the silence isn’t his life any more when he’s back in it like he is now.

“Am I making it better or worse being here right now?”

“Better, please stay.” She holds him a little tighter, little closer, her other hand brushing his hair back from his face and of course, baby, of course I’ll stay, and he can’t even feel all that foolish for crying in front of her because she’s not like that about these things, and it plainly feels too good to be held by her for him to think about much else than her hands and the warmth of her body against his.

“Do you want to leave?”

“Right now?”

“Well, I was thinking in the morning. Don’t want those two thinking I kidnapped you and like, ritually sacrificed you to Courtney Love or something. But I’m also not opposed to leaving now if you really want to.” He turns over just enough that he can look at her, the soft curve of her smile, nothing but care, no judgment, no recoil when she sees his bleary eyes, the pull of his frown. She cups his face in her hand, thumb stroking at stray salt beneath his eye, and he knows that she would do it, if he said he wanted to leave right now, she would do it, pack both of their bags and toss them in the car and get them the hell out of here before his parents even woke up. How lovely, how devastating, to be loved like this, to be loved by her.

“My mom said she wanted to take you shopping tomorrow.”

“Steve, to be frank, I don’t really give a fuck about what your mom wants right now.”

“Where would we go, back to your place?”

“We could, but Robin and her girlfriend are watching Sylvia until the end of the week so really, we could go wherever we want to. Anywhere else you want to go?”

“Anywhere?”

“Yeah, I’m paying for gas, dream big, we’ve got a whole week to kill.” And by some strange unfurling in his mind, the first place he thinks of is Cape May, New Jersey, an errant memory of a family vacation, a good memory, young memory, warm and rare memory. Small town and candy-coated storefronts and the beach, of course, the beach. He remembers spending most of that week blowing his allowance on ice pops and roaming the pier alone, sticky hands and sugar-sour stomach, threading through throngs of too tall and too tan legs. He remembers pure, unfettered joy. And if Andy has any qualms about New Jersey she does a good job of hiding it, smiling and alright, baby, we ride at dawn. They don’t really sleep, just curl up close and plot out their grand escape until the light is starting to turn pale and thin, and the plaid room becomes something other than a cage.

She takes care of it in the morning, takes no prisoners and leaves no room for questions, breezes into the kitchen on a long sigh and Robin called, something’s wrong with Sylvia, and he does his best not to laugh as he oh no, should we go back? and Andy’s gosh, I feel terrible, but yeah, we probably should, a veritable production right under the rims of Chip and Diane’s coffee mugs. They get their bags into the trunk of his car in record time while Andy coddles and coos oooh, I’m really sorry, Chip, Diane, but it was lovely to meet you, Chip, Diane, oooh in June? Hmm, I think we’ll both be a little too busy, but thank you, Chip, Diane, let’s not and say we didn’t. That last part, muttered under a quick breath as she ducks down into the passenger seat. He makes a mental note to thank Robin for calling his parents’ house, after he called her and asked her to do exactly that earlier in the morning.

They don’t look at each other until they’re back on the highway heading east, grins splitting into laughter, Andy leaning over the console to press a smacking kiss to his cheek.

“To Jersey, baby.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Well, I try. Let’s switch off when we reach Cincinnati, alright?”

And, well, the truth is they didn’t think this through, at least not as well as they thought they had. They stop more times than they should, don’t even make it to Cincinnati before breakfast beckons. A crueler for him, coffee with cream, and a maple bar for her, her coffee black, perfect shards of sugar sifting and snowing over the dash of his car, a little sick and a little giddy kick in their stomachs. A handful of stops in Ohio too, gas stations and rest stops and an admitted music shop because they’ve run out of fresh cassettes by the time they pass through Akron. And Pennsylvania, forget it. A delirious afternoon haze, a strange conversation about the Amish, the lingering smell of pickles from the burgers they shared for a late lunch. But after their third or fourth driver seat switch, Andy starting to nod off on the passenger’s side, he realizes a bit idly that he hasn’t really stopped smiling since they left Indiana.

For the record, they never make it to Cape May. The sun has already set, leaving a vivid wash of orange bruising into blue by the time they’re driving through Atlantic City, and they both seem to have the same thought at the same time. Yeah, like the Springsteen song. So they scrap Cape May and car crawl down to the beach, and it’s cold, March, wind bitten and bitter, and dark, and they cling to each other, hands tucked in close against ribs and chin tucked toward chin as they flirt closer to the water. And because it’s cold, and because it’s dark, they’re the only ones out here on this gray-blue stretch of beach, the slow thrum of the water breathing in and out. Andy grins at him and he feels young in a new way, and when she wordlessly starts shrugging out of her shoes and popping the button of her jeans, of course, he follows suit.

It’s cold, bracingly so, all the air shuttering up still in his lungs, up to his shins, then his thighs, then his hips, Andy holding his hand and it doesn’t count if you don’t get your hair wet before she’s dipping under the dark ink of water, resurfacing with a burst and break of laughter, her hair slicked back and the pooling water on her skin shimmering and shining in the distant light of the city. He does it too, with a yelp, a yawp, coming back up for air to the sound of her laugh and then they’re sprinting out just as fast as they dared and daunted in, teeth chattering as they pull their clothes on over damp skin.

“We’re probably gonna catch some kind of flesh-eating disease from that water.” Shivering words that are almost drowned out by the wheezing roar of the heat turned all the way up in his car, he has to laugh, a little bleary eyed while she winds and weaves through the city streets, eyes peeled for a hotel.

“At least we’ll go out together.”

“Knew you were gonna say something like that. So romantic, we can put ointment on each other’s matching rashes.”

“Well when you put it that way.” Matching grins, turned giddy and bold, and they smell like the sea, and that’s less lovely than it sounds. They smell like brine, like snapping cold, his nose burning a little with it, eyes red-rimmed and weary, but still smiling, her hand in his over the console.

They end up getting a room at a motel with so many lights burned out in its vacant rooms sign that all that’s left is the red neon glow of CAN. It’ll do. A shower for both of them, because when she starts pressing kisses to the soft hook of his jaw, she laughs, you’re salty, Jesus Christ. And she wasn’t wrong, boyish and a little brash when he licks a stripe up the side of her neck, smacking his lips in a barely contained grin while she squawks and squirms. So, a shower, skin tacky and warm, and he feels like something perfect, something preening, is unfurling in his chest as he watches her lay out on the coarse sheets of the bed, bare, the soft spread of her hips, shadows bending and breaking in warm lamplight. She smiles at him, her chin tucked down and shoulder hiked, chipped purple nail polish trailing a line of want from her navel up and up between her breasts, along her clavicle. It becomes more clear to him every time he sees her like this that yes, he’s a goner.

“Hi.”

“Hi, baby, you feeling good?”

“Yeah, you?” She hums, mmhmm, rolling her lips back to hide the stretch of her smile, palms splaying along his ribs when he settles between her thighs, breathing in the close heat of each other. And there are words he would like to say, though they fail him, this feeling too big and buoyant to wrap language around. Good love, giddy love, turning to fizz and foam, and he thanks her, thank you for today, with his mouth pressed into her sternum, nose grazing up along line and ligament, the catch of breath in her throat, her smile.

They move with a patience that’s new to them both. In the early days, the beginning, when they were both still skirting around the edges of this being something serious, there was also a tinge of something a little frantic, a little fear and frenzy laced into their fingertips because, no, never sure if that time, or that time, or that time, would be the last. But neither of them are worried about that any more, whispered promises and easy comforts, staying, and certain in it. For the long haul, for it all. So now, now, they can take their time.

And this is different too, at least for him. He had gotten used to, and good at, the performance of things like this, the putting on of things like this, move like this, moan like this, bodies fitted with bodies for particular outcomes. Andy had seen right through that early on, turning the tables, quick spin and her hands on his chest and an easy grin, and he was no longer thinking about the aesthetics of it, of what should follow what, wrapped up in the sense and sate, and now he blushes when she tells him he makes the prettiest sounds for her, pretty, pretty, pretty, my pretty boy.

Her palms soothe presence into his spine, here, like this, be here, like this, and there’s a beat every time his hips settle against hers, a hiccup, a breath, how nice it feels to be with her, to be feeling this with her, both of them sighing, little keening cries that flicker into breathless laughter because how absurd, how obscene for them to have something as good as this. And he knows that they are the same in this way, two people convinced that no, never anything good like this, not for them, and now getting away with something good like this, good for them, and only them, and only theirs.

The soft inside of her knee pressed against his hip makes easy movement out of turning them in the sheets, languid limbs and him on his back and her draped over him, the curve of her spine and the taut line of her neck when her head tips back, pooling light like flecks of gold and he puts his hand there, there, curled close at the front of her throat, not taking anything, but in fact asking, and accepting. Her hips roll, liquid and lovely, dark hair curled damp between her thighs, and it’s something better than art, he thinks. She sighs his name when his hand slips heavy down to cup the weight of her breast, just because he can, pleasure because he can. Like that, like that, they unravel for each other in the close stillness of the night, and stitch back together in the hazy aftermath, her cheek pressed over the battering ache of his heart, all hers.

“Can I ask you something about your parents?” Her chin propped on her forearm, voice barely above a whisper. He nods, his palm stopping its circuit in the dip of her spine.

“How did they meet?”

“High school, I’m pretty sure.”

“I didn’t think that actually happened.”

“I don’t think it does any more, it probably shouldn’t have between those two.”

“Hmm, made a good kid, at least. Though I think that has more to do with you than it does with them.” And then, an afterthought, agonizingly sweet, her knuckles brushing along his cheek, you made it out, you know, and he does, presses a kiss to the pads of her fingers, making that knowing real.

“What about yours?” Roll of her eyes and sigh, the same, but different.

“Two big Boston families, one marriage of sensibility. Add in a little catholic guilt and you end up with five kids and no hope of divorce any time soon.” She says it with half of a smile, a weak laugh that sounds like something else, something tired and trying. He doesn’t push though, doesn’t ask any more. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, he knows. Instead he nods and says a few simple words that sound a lot like what she told him. Getting out, both of them, making something new for themselves, together.

“You think they’ll like me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m not even gonna ask if you think yours liked me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His words crackle and curl with his smile, relief in those words, in believing them. She smiles and something warm splits open in his chest, her palm pressed there like she knows.

“No, baby, it doesn’t.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months

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how are you doing today, sweetheart? any random thought you'd like to share?

Yea I do actually.

1. I don’t know what to think of the seraphim’s relationship now, cuz they all call luci brother, but (at least with Michael) he seems to be… Yk, pretty into his dear hyung.

Like- isn’t this incest? Ofc they are all children of god but they even CALL him brother so, yea. I mean I don’t really mind it, cuz I know this game has dark themes, so if it turns out they ‘love him alot’ then I wouldn’t hate on it. It’s fiction, I don’t need to get mad over a work of fiction. Just, should one be allowed to ship it then? Idk man, the ship lucifer x Michael is now a little… ehhh, questionable. I’d want them to get along though, their family issues pains me so much.

2. Honestly, god is kind of an ass in the whb universe. It’s one thing that he disappeared from those immature children, but he also couldn’t take responsibility for their actions? If you are a parent and your kids does some bs you have to take responsibility as their guardian. God, ffs, teach your kids, get them under control like there are so many ways. You can literally create anything, make them wear a bracelet that informs you whenever they have murderous intentions and resurrect the dead or smt, put your dogs on a shorter leash.

3. I kind of have a feeling lucifer, since he hallucinates, would sometimes mistake people as his brothers. I wonder how he’d react to my MC? Cuz she looks like Michael, since I based her of me. Anyhow, it’d be kinda funny, just imagine it:

“I’m the descendant of Solomon.”

“No, you are Michael.”

“The fuck, you don’t see those tits? I don’t even have a wing!”

“You ripped your wings off too?”

4. I posted a fic I worked on yesterday, and that was a batshit decision. Because now everyone is concentrated on the new update, and the post got buried behind all the spoilers. I should have posted it like in a week, when things calm down. I think I’ll actually, I spend a lot of time on it.

That’s my rant for now :]

#whb #what in hell is bad #micheal whb #whb lucifer #whb angels #nini!rant #Rae

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

Text

Rotten Apple

Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap

A/N: This is set after the events in Bird Hunting, but is mostly centered around Canary (here [Name] due to her being in a civilian setting) and her parents. Just a lil' bit of lore for BH fans :)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, referenced past child neglect, narcissistic/abusive parents.

Summary: Sweetened apples turn sour when rotten apples are around.

Word count: 2100~

“...Yae think we should’ve brought a leash?” Johnny pondered, and Simon had no choice but to consider his opinion for the next time they went to the farmers’ market with [Name]. Only ten minutes had passed from the moment they arrived, and it only took her catching a whiff of sweetened apples for her to zoom away into the crowd.

And it was crowded today, with a congregation of people, alone, in couples, or entire families that had decided to brave the unusually sunny weather to stock up on organically harvested seasonal fruits and vegetables, animal products, and other produce made by the same people that sold them in cute little stands.

[Name] absolutely loved the farmers’ market - Simon wasn’t that keen on crowds, but both him and Johnny were easily swayed by her excitement. The initial plan was for them to stock up on groceries before spending a long-awaited long weekend at Johnny’s cabin in the north. But now she had disappeared to who-knows-where.

Her stealth had been an important skill during missions, but now it was a problem. Is this how their enemies felt, knowing that she was around there but being unable to find her?, Simon thought, his eyes scanning the crowd from above - luckily, there weren't many people even close to his size.

“There!” Johnny exclaimed, and took off in a random direction. Simon was hot behind his heels, refusing to lose another one of his partners today. Both men had to struggle to part the crows around them without shoving them aside, and not tripping into distracted kids that wandered around their parents.

Finally, Simon saw her, but there was something off about her. He couldn’t quite place it before Johnny got to her, his hand brushing her arm.

“[Na-]! Oh, sorry,” Johnny quickly retracted his hand with a sheepish grin, “I thought you were my girlfriend, you look a lot like her.”

The girl eyed him up and down and quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, “That’s the most awful pick-up line I’ve heard,” she sneered at him, and Johnny couldn’t help but notice that she really looked eerily similar to [Name], from the color of her hair, the shape of her lips, to the scrunch on her nose when she looked at him in displeasure. “And by the way,” she continued dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest, “I already have a fiance, and you can’t afford me anyway.”

Both Simon and Johnny blinked at the woman, who was looking at both of them up and down. Johnny was getting rightfully annoyed at her choice of tone, and was about to turn around when she saw the woman’s face shift into surprise as her eye caught something behind them. “...[Name]?”

[Name] had been about to grab Simon’s shoulder, excited to show him her newly purchased jars of jams while munching away at a caramel apple, but the moment she noticed who was speaking to them, she turned around and shifted through the crowds again.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and she felt her lungs constrict against her ribs for oxygen. The soles of her feet stung - although her burns were healed, the new skin was still sensitive. She had lost her treat somewhere, but she paid it no mind, eager to find the exit, and wait for Johnny and Simon by the truck.

However, and she should already know this by heart, Lady luck sometimes is a bitch.

“...[Name]? Is that you?” The voice made her freeze on the spot, right outside the parking lot, and she felt like a child all over again as she slowly turned around, her eyes meeting her mother’s.

“...Hi, mom,” she sighed dejectedly, resigning herself to her fate as she saw her father turn around to face her, regarding her with an unimpressed stare, “Hi, dad.”

“Haven’t seen you in years, darling,” the woman spoke sweetly and smiled politely, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never does when it’s for me, [Name] thought bitterly. It was no different than when she spoke to a stranger at the grocery store, definitely not how one would speak to a daughter.

“Have you finally come to your senses?” her father was less subtle, crossing his arms over his chest, “Are you finally coming back home?”

“Ah, no, I’m actually on medical leave,” she cleared her throat and straightened her back, finally remembering she was not a teenager anymore, “I have my own place, had it for a while now, actually.”

“Really now?” her mother cooed, “When are you going to get the rest of your stuff from home, then?”

[Name] blinked at her, tilting her head a little in confusion, “you told me you were getting rid of my things years ago, you said you were going to use my bedroom for an office for Trish or something.”

“Oh, we did repurpose your old bedroom, silly girl,” the woman laughed, then shrugged condescendingly, “what we couldn’t give away is in a couple of small boxes in the attic, mostly your childhood photos.” [Name] said nothing - she had already expected her parents to get rid of all traces of her the moment she joined the military, she was only mildly puzzled about them keeping anything. “I'm sure you’ll want those, at least.”

“...You don’t want them?” she asked, although she already had an inkling of what the answer would be.

“Well, it would be embarrassing to have people asking about you, you know?” her mother sighed, shaking her head, “What would we tell them? It was easier to pretend your sister was an only child.”

“You could tell them the truth,” [Name] retorted, and her father seemed to tense up at her answer.

“Tell people that we have a daughter who whores herself out for a living?” He grumbled, while her mother looked around to see if anyone heard, “what do they call them, barrack bunnies?”

[Name] bit her lip, her mind unhelpfully replaying the disastrous argument that resulted from her enlisting years prior. “I thought you didn’t care if I died, anyway.”

“But you’re alive, and you owe us,” her mother chastised, her pitch dropping a few tones, “we raised you-”

“Grandma and Grandpa raised me, you were too busy raising Trish.”

“We kept you fed and clothed even though you always rebelled against us,” her mother hissed, stepping closer, “you turned our family against us!”

“You did that yourself,” [Name] kept her voice down, calm, knowing from experience that getting herself fired up would only give them more power, “you’re the one who started pretending I didn’t exist when I turned ten, saying you wished Trish was your only daughter.”

Her mother huffed and turned her face away indignantly, “and I stand by that.”

“...I know, you find it easier to pretend I don’t exist than to check whether I’m alive or not.”

“We should’ve left you at the hospital when we had the chance.”

[Name] rolled her eyes at that. After so many years living away from her parents, the usual quips and threats from her mother hurt less than when she was a teenager. It was a small comfort, to know that she’d grown out of her parents' shadow. “Yeah, that wasn’t very smart of you-” she was stopped by a sound slap, her face turning from the impact. She slowly raised her hand to cup her stinging cheek, and eyed her father, whose hand was still raised.

“You will not speak to your mother in that manner, young lady,” he growled, and [Name] just blinked at him, unsure of how to react without getting herself arrested.

“And you will not raise your hand against my corporal again, unless you’re ready to lose it,” Simon’s voice was low, dangerously low, and it sent shivers down both [Name]’s and her parents’ spines, although for entirely different reasons. She glanced over her shoulder, finding herself eye-level with Simon’s chest. Johnny stood by his side with a severe expression in his face, one she had seldom seen before.

Her parents warily stepped back, taking in the two large men who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “W-who are you?” Her father stammered - although he would later deny he did.

“Lieutenant Riley, and this is your last warning,” he grumbled, although he didn’t need to do anything else to intimidate them. They already looked as if they were trying to find somewhere to hide.

Knowing that her parents were - for once - the ones cowering in fear stirred a newfound sense of power in [Name]’s heart - what was it that Gaz called it? Ah, yeah, scary dog privilege. She found it easier to look at the people in front of them and realize that nothing had tied her to them for a long time.

The branches of the genealogy tree can also be snipped to one’s content, her Grandma had told her on her twelfth birthday, when she couldn’t grasp the concept of her parents choosing to celebrate one kid’s birthday and not the other’s.

She had found herself being dropped off at her Grandparents’ early in the morning, while her parents boasted about taking Trish to an amusement park for the day. Little [Name] was heartbroken, and had begged her mom to forgive her for whatever she had done to not deserve a birthday party. But alas, they were relentless, and a lot of screaming from her mom and a backhanded slap from her dad had broken her pleas and made her silent, just like many other times.

At that time, [Name] couldn’t grasp the meaning of her Grandma’s words, but now that she had grown up, and disappointment had settled in a long time ago, those words rang truer than ever in her mind.

Even when she was on the brink of death in the forest, seeing them again never crossed her mind, for she knew they wouldn’t care even to visit her grave.

Keep up with that attitude, and you will die alone, because no one will ever love you, her mother had told her at thirteen, when she started openly questioning the difference in treatment with her twin.

How wrong she was, she thought. She was far from alone, and she was very well loved. Although her Grandparents were long gone, she had Simon and Johnny right here with her, and Gaz was her chosen brother, and Price was a better father figure than the man in front of her had ever been.

“Burn those photos, for all I care,” she smiled at her mother. It was a calm, detached smile - a polite smile you give to a stranger at the grocery store, not to a parent. “Make it real, that I do not exist for you.”

And with that she turned around, tugging on Simon's long sleeve as discreetly as she could. Johnny did notice, however, and smirked to himself as he followed after them - Simon would’ve gladly squared up to those two for hours if needed, but he easily relented to her touch.

Simon opened the truck’s passenger door for [Name] and she sat in silence, still mulling over her thoughts. A warm hand rested on her knee and she looked up to see her favorite pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They looked at each other in silence - there was an unsaid question in his lips, but she could almost taste it.

“...Let’s go home, okay?” She whispered, her hand stroking his knuckles. He simply nodded and shut the door before climbing in himself. Johnny was already sitting behind her, his lips pressed in a pout as he caught her reflection on the side view mirror, staring out of the window at the pair of strangers that once held her heart in their hands.

After a few silent moments as they pulled out of the parking lot, Johnny reached over, presenting [Name] with a fresh candy apple with sprinkles on top. She took it from his fingers, chuckling to herself at how easy it was for them to draw a smile from here, even though her heart still stung a little.

"Thanks, love," she hummed, pressing a kiss to his wrist and knowing that Johnny was grinning proudly to himself. Simon's hand was warm on her thigh, a welcome weight that grounded her in the present.

She could grow her own tree, if she so wanted, with the people she loved the most.

A/N: poor bby Canary deserved better parents :(

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cameronspecial · 9 months

Text

Doggie Theft

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 722

Summary: All Y/N wanted was a dog. She didn't mean to commit a crime in the process.

Masterlist

Y/N Y/L/N is a rule follower. She isn’t like her twin brother and Rafe, who both like to test the limits of their parents' rules. But just because she is a rule follower, doesn’t mean she has all the rules correct. This leads to an adorable mistake.

The mistake begins when Y/N, Mason and Rafe were allowed to go for the first time by themselves to the library. They just started the first grade and their parents thought it would be a good time for them to go out by themselves for the first time. The library isn’t far, they are all together and the Outer Banks is a small island where everyone knows everyone. Y/N wanted to check out new books, while the boys just liked to be given their independence. The group is now returning home from the library when they happen upon a big golden retriever outside of the grocery store. The dog is by himself and his leash is tied to the post.

Y/N is currently going through her dog phase, getting new dog books was after all behind her desire to go to the library, so stumbling upon the dog was amazing to her. She wonders why the dog is alone, but then remembers her mother telling her that sometimes grocery stores display some items outside of the store. This must be why the dog is there. She immediately decides she wants to buy the dog. However, a six-year-old doesn’t have the money nor truly understands the concept of it. Nevertheless, she knows she has to pay for it, so she gets out a paper and pencil from her backpack and draws money onto it. She leaves the paper on the floor and goes to untie the dog that is bigger than her.

“Y/L/N, what are you doing?” Rafe questions, both boys were watching the scene unfold. She doesn’t look at the boys as she answers, “I’m paying for the doggie. See I left some money for the store person.”

“You can’t do that. It’s stealing. Plus, that doggie is way bigger than you are. You are so tiny.”

“I so can do it. My mommy said you can. And I’m not tiny. I’m a big girl! I’m in grade one.”

Mason decides now to interject, “If Y/N/N says mommy says it’s okay, then it must be. I trust her. She left money. So it must be okay.”

Instead of arguing anymore with the girl, Rafe and Mason help her untie the dog so they can go home before curfew. When the three of them returned home with not only books but a dog, Marvin is surprised at the sight before him. “Where did you guys get that dog from?” Y/N beams up at her father, “We got him from the store. He was on display outside of the store.” Marvin is quick to understand what had happened and takes the kids to return the dog to the angry owner. Thankfully, Marvin is able to calm him down. Y/N pouts as they walk back home from the store. “Haha, I was right and you were wrong,” Rafe taunts her as they walk through the front door. Y/N, feeling her tears about to spill, says nothing. She runs upstairs and closes her door.

——

Rafe felt bad for making Y/N cry. He didn’t think his teasing would hurt her feeling; he never does. So now he is begging his mother to take him to the store to get something to cheer her up. He picks out the item and they pay. He is dropped off at Mason’s house, leaving the gift outside of Y/N’s door and then goes to play with Mason. He could still hear her crying from outside of the room.

Y/N’s hunger causes her to flee the comfort of her room, but as she is leaving, she almost trips on an item. She looks down at her feet to see a golden retriever stuffie staring up at me. She squeals in delight and picks up the toy. Thinking it is her parents' doings, she runs downstairs to thank them. Rafe watches from afar with a smile on his face. He doesn’t need the credit as long as she is happy.

Taglist: @itsalexwin @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @terraeluce @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you

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comfort-writing · 1 year

Text

Some thoughts I have about Eddie:

- He loves watching you play his guitar. You may just pluck at the strings, asking how to play a chord or two, but he loves watching your fingers glide across the neck of it as you strum nonsense. You’re the only person who he allows to touch his baby. Sometimes he’ll sit behind you, chest pressed against your back, legs straddling your own, and he’ll place his fingers on the frets, show you the strum pattern, and you’ll play a little song together. He’ll hum the lyrics quietly into the crook of your neck, making your skin warm and your head spin.

- His love language is physical touch. At first, you noticed the way he liked to have a hand on you. Holding your own. Resting comfortably on your waist. Playing with the frayed ends of your shorts with his thumb, palm splayed out on your thigh. But as time progressed, and as he got more comfortable, he needed to be as close as physically possible. In public, he’d wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you close as you looked at cans in the grocery store. He’d wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder while waiting in line at a concert. He’d pull you into his lap, holding you tight on his couch as a movie played on the tv in his trailer. It wasn’t sexual or possessive, but he needed to be touching you at all times. There was a few days early on where you noticed that he’d backed off a bit, and you definitely felt the absence. You wondered if something was wrong, and on day three of him avoiding your touch, you finally asked him about it. His hand went to the back of his neck, scratching the skin there as he explained that he was worried that you thought it was annoying, that maybe he was too touchy or clingy. When you hugged him close and kissed him sweetly, explaining that you’d missed his presence, all fear melted away. You called him your little barnacle and he laughed all the anxiety out of his system in that moment.

- Any opportunity that Eddie has to make you laugh, he will take it !! Sometimes he’ll just start telling you the cheesiest knock-knock jokes, and you don’t even really laugh at the jokes, but really laugh at how earnestly he is telling them to you, looking at you expectantly, hoping you’ll crack. When your annoyed-facade finally fades and you giggle, he will keep coming up with more, and even if they don’t make sense, you laugh anyways. His eyes light up and he looks like a little kid on Christmas morning. He loves giving random objects funny voices, making them talk to you, almost how a parent might entertain a toddler. But dammit, it’s really funny when he holds up an onion in the store and says in an unnaturally deep voice for an onion, “Don’t worry baby girl, I won’t make you cry. You should pick me”. He intentionally picks out really terrible, low-budget movies at Family Video just so he can listen to you laugh at, and make fun of, the terrible special effects and acting. Your laugh is his favorite sound on the planet.

-Eddie befriends any animal he comes across. Just looking at him, you wouldn’t really take him as an animal lover, but during one of your first visits to his trailer, you notice a little food bowl just tucked underneath the structure of his home. When you questioned him about it, he told you that he feeds the strays. He tells you that he was essentially a stray as a kid, and sometimes he would’ve loved a good meal. If the two of you ever go for a walk, a dog might approach him and beg for pets, even if on a leash with their owner right there. If they agree to let him pet their dog, he immediately drops to his knees and cards his fingers through the dog’s fur, cooing and telling it what a good dog it is, letting it lick his cheeks mercilessly. If you take a stroll through the woods, little critters might cross your path, and he bends low, sitting patiently and letting it approach him. One day, he managed to somehow pet a literal squirrel, and when it finally scurried off, you called him Snow White. He laughed brightly and claimed that you were just jealous.

- Eddie hates reading, but loves Shakespeare. Not Romeo and Juliet, but stuff like Richard III. He may secretly include its plots into his D&D campaigns. That is all.

- He is either insanely amazing at or incredibly terrible at flirting. There’s really no in-between. One day, he’s putting on the moves, tucking your hair away from your neck and whispering things that drive you mad into your ear. His hands are teasing, brushing your sides gently as he tells you all the things he wants to do to you later, alone. His eyes rake over you and land on your lips, staying there until you just can’t stand it, finally giving in to his suave advances. The next day he says something like “Damn baby girl, you look.. like a girl.. who I like the look of… shit.”

- It took him a long time to finally admit that he loves you. But every day after that, he spews the three words endlessly. When you hand him his coffee in the morning. When you are tying your hair up for the day or brushing your teeth. When the two of you are swaying to the music on the radio in his kitchen. When he’s wiping down the counter after dinner and you’re watching him from your place on the couch. When he kisses your neck while his hands wander. When your laugh becomes infectious. Any and every moment he thinks it, he says it.

- Eddie journals. Every day of his life is written down in endless notebooks. Sometimes they’re short little blurbs, other times, they’re pages and pages describing his grief. It was a way to process his emotions when nobody would listen to him as a kid. His upside down entry when he got home simply says: ‘I’m grateful to be alive.’

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #em #eddie x reader #fanfic #headcanon

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here2bbtstrash · 1 year

Text

real magic - teaser (explicit)

❆ genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic

❆ pairing: namjoon x reader

❆ summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your DILF coffee shop boss to the list.

❆ teaser word count: 1.4k

❆ teaser contains: the good ol' "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, the bittersweet nostalgia of the holidays when you're not a kid anymore, moni being a little shit, sweaty namjoon (YES that's a warning 😩), namjoon in a protect trans kids shirt (oop i told you it was coming!!!!), all wrapped up in a nice lil meet-cute bow 🎁

❆ part of a hyung holiday collab - dropping december 2022!

❆ A/N: ahhhhh i am SO EXCITED about this collab y'all 🫠 hope you're ready for some hot dad namjooooooon~ and i'm beyond stoked for the hyung goodness @nabiolive @gimmethatagustd and @haliiimede are gonna bless us with like we're not WORTHY 😭 be sure to go check out their teasers and show them some love!!! 🤍

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late.

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space.

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts collab #a hyung holiday

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bonefall · 11 months

Note

what’s Gray Wing and Sparrow Fur’s relationship going to be like?

Ohhhh Sparrow Hearrtttt

Honestly Sparrow Heart has become so different that sometimes she pulls at the "stick close to canon" leash. She's a baby in the Free Reign Arc of DOTC and can't do much, but by the time of TBC she is an ancient spirit who is SO tired of being nice

But anyway. BB!DOTC.

She had three parents, Turtle Heart, Bumble, and Gray Wing. Gray just has this amazing way with kids, they take everything seriously and break everything down into terms they can understand. Some of Sparrow's and Owl's earliest memories are of Gray Wing bundling them up in their tail and showing them the stars, explaining the constellations, pointing out the ones the Sun Trail Cats used to navigate by night.

They taught her how to trust, to look for the good in things. She was an adventurous kit, and Tom took advantage of that. He lead them right away from their home, and when Sparrow tried to stop because she was tired, Tom taught her the first lesson about cruelty.

Dragged to a strange house by a man she doesn't know, a painful bruise forming, she was terrified. Gray Wing, Lightning Cry, and Acorn Swoop arrived to rescue her, only for her to learn that Turtle Heart died because she left with Tom. Bumble tried to comfort her kids in that moment, but more than ever, they were clinging to Gray Wing. Xey were their savior, in that emotional moment.

Bumble was hurt, they were ALL hurting, but she understood. A kid's grief shouldn't be a performance, it should be about them. What THEY need to heal. Right?

But the next thing that Sparrow Heart learned was that support is conditional. She loved Bumble, that was her OTHER mom, and Tall Shadow called for her exile. Gray Wing agreed. It didn't matter that she screamed and cried for her, tried to bargain she'd hunt for her (when she was still too young to have caught anything in her whole life), they sent her away.

Powerful people can take anything they want from you. They can make you do anything they want you to do.

And you are a commodity that can be bargained for. Gray Wing had to leave the kits behind when they charged off with reinforcements, and Tall Shadow used Sparrow Heart and Pebble Heart as leverage.

Tall Shadow: "You disavowed us, but these kits are still our clanmates. How am I supposed to trust that your group will be able to care for them?"

Gray Wing: "a kit belongs with its parents, Tall Shadow. You are honorable, you would not keep them from us."

"I don't need flattery, I need proof. Proof that you are capable of providing for them."

Thunder Storm: "what, payment? You want to make servants of us?"

As Sparrow Heart grew, the more she became aware of these things. But you know who doesn't get traded like a dead mouse? The one around whom the world revolves?

Skystar.

Sparrow Heart loved her family, all three parents, her brothers, and her friends. But she grew tired of being scared, losing people, being powerless and begging for an audience. She eventually became Skystar's deputy, turning her hungry eyes towards leadership...

And that is where her tale ends, for now. I know where I'd go from here, but I want to know what canon does first. I'm looking at that upcoming super edition with judgemental anticipation.

But for Sparrow Heart, Gray Wing will always be many complicated things. A father. A childhood hero. A traitor. A savior, again, who reunited her and Pebble with Bumble. She will always love them; but they taught her that even the people you love the most can make choices that hurt you.

#BB!Sparrow Heart #Me when I get to write fucked up girls :000000 #BB!DOTC #Better bones au #I <3 you fallenleaf I <3 you spotty I <3 you sparrow heart #tw abuse #tw child abuse

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