#I hope no one hates me for clogging up his tag

[solaria-writes]

fuck it Darius Morgan centric-fic, written in Like water for chocolate style

I KNOW FOR THE THEME OF THE FOOD IS MORE ACCURATE TO MAKE IT ARTEM CENTRIC BUT THIS IS ALSO GOING TO BE DARTEM

also, this is what Like water for chocolate is about

#solaria talks #darius morgan #I'm going a bit nuts with my headcanon about Darius being Latino #I'm shaking hands with him #Complicated relationship with the cooking and everything #am i self projecting? #most probably yes #but yeah #posting this to hold myself accountable so I wirte it #Hopefully i can get a chapter out before this year ends #I hope no one hates me for clogging up his tag

[mimimui]

I saw your "genshin boys asking for a kiss" and i felt like melting into a puddle it's so cute... ㅜㅡㅜ if i may ask, how would the sumeru boys react to reader who is unable to sleep because of their cold? like they try to sleep but the pounding headache, clogged nose, etc is preventing them to do so sobs

thank you so much beforehand!

sumeru boys versus your cold

includes: alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno

tags: established relationship, endearments, fluff, kinda ooc(?) maybe, not proofread i'm sorry, mention of rudolph (is there even a rudolph in genshin? well there is now)

a/n: thank u so much! ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡ i'm also currently suffering from a severely clogged nose so i understand the feeling x_x thanks for the request anon <3 i kinda struggled writing alhaithams aaa i hope it's still ok :') as always .. enjoy !

alhaitham knows you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, so when you started sneezing this morning, he didn't think much of it. he told you to drink some water and take meds, but that's mostly it. only when he was about to retire to your shared bed was when he noticed your loud, constant sniffling.

"(y/n), did you not take meds earlier?" he asks, switching the lamp back on. alhaitham places a hand on your shoulder, slowly moving you to face him. his eyes widen when he sees your red nose and tired eyes. "haitham.. can't sleep.." you mumble, your hands covering your face.

most people think alhaitham is a bit aloof, but they've clearly never seen him take care of you. he urges you to sit up, quickly getting a tissue for your runny nose. when you tell him, "i can't, my head hurts so bad.." he brings the tissue to your nose himself, asking you to blow into it.

this doesn't cure your clogged nose, however, as you continue to sniffle. he lays next to you, wrapping his arm around you, rubbing your back. "breathe through your mouth slower, copy me," he says, breathing at a slow, easy pace for you to replicate.

it takes some time for you to go to sleep, but even so, alhaitham stays awake the entire time, making sure you fall asleep before he does. when he notices your steady breathing and closed eyes, he smiles contently, glad that you were finally able to sleep.

"sleep well, my dear."

kaveh is not a stranger to sleeping with colds, especially since he's prone to sickness from always stays up late. when you tell him you can't sleep because you have a clogged nose, he immediately asks you if you want meds, tissues, or both. as he babbles on, you can only laugh at his reaction when you say, "i want you."

"that's bold for someone with snot running down their nose," he says teasingly, which earns him a pillow getting thrown at his head. "ow! you're mean when you're sick, (y/n)." he jokingly pouts as he sits next to you on the bed, rubbing the spot you hit with the pillow.

his expressions turns into a sad one as you suddenly lie down, your headache making you groan. he looks around for a bit before handing you the box of tissues he meant to give you earlier, telling you to blow your nose to clear it up a bit.

"i can't do this anymore, kaveh. i hate being sick." you cover your face with the blanket, sniffling underneath. "i know, sunshine, i know," he says, patting your thigh gently. "we all get sick from time to time, but trust me, you'll feel better in no time!" his tone is optimistic, but he makes sure not to be too loud, for the sake of your headache.

"...can you help me fall asleep, please?" you peek through the blanket, watching his reaction to your request. he smiles warmly, lying down and continuing to pat your thigh. he hums a calm, familiar tune—one of your favorites that he sings—and you can't help but smile.

it may be hard to breathe at the moment, but rest assured kaveh will comfort you in any way he can.

tighnari tells you to sit on the edge of the bed, in spite of your throbbing headache. you comply though, waiting for him to come back. it feels like a century when he returns to your room with a pot of steaming water. "place the blanket over yourself and the pot."

the hot steam hits your face and you wince a bit, not used to this kind of temperature. but when tighnari sits next to you and places a reassuring hand on your back, you find the steam a bit more bearable.

"nari, what does this do for me?" you ask, removing the blanket from over your head as 10 minutes pass. he mentions something about steam inahalation and so on, talking about how it can help relieve your clogged nose.

you're not yet entirely cured, but it's comfortable enough. he lies down next to you, an arm wrapping around your waist as he tells you he'll get medicine for you in the morning. his voice is soft, quiet, and gentle. it slowly fades away as you fall asleep, a satisfied tighnari beside you as he watches your eyes close.

"i'm happy to take care of you, my lover."

cyno tries to distract you with corny jokes, but archons, as much as you love him, his jokes are only contributing to your headache. he sits down on the bed, holding a glass of warm water he got for you. "i have a joke about colds, but i hope you don't get it."

"cyno, i love you, but you realize i already have colds, right?" he chuckles at your stressed reaction, asking you to sit up so you can drink water. "do you know what kind of shoes colds wear?" you sigh as you lie back down, pulling the covers over your head.

"aaaaa shoe!" he follows up, smiling at his own joke. you feel his head hit the pillow beside you, his hand finding yours to hold. he uses his other hand to pull the blanket off your face, the moonlight illuminating even the redness of your nose.

"seems like i have my own rudolph." you squeeze his hand tightly and he chuckles. "i apologize, (y/n)," cyno says in a low voice, bringing your hand up to his lips. he closes his eyes as he tells you to breathe deeply, repeating the phrase 'breath in, breath out'.

it's still a struggle to fall asleep, but cyno doing his best to help you breathe easier makes you feel a bit better. if you thought he worked hard as the general mahamatra, he works hard at taking care of you as well.

"let's visit tighnari in the morning. rest easy, (y/n)."

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

#genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader

[argreion]

Leon Kennedy sleepy + general HCs with your local ranter.

So sorry for clogging the Leon Kennedy x reader tag y'all. I seriously just fuckin' love TALKING! He's been my hyperfixation for months alongside RE Lore. :( I hope I can help you guys create your own little HCs like I took from some fics and the help of my friend! <3 ALSO I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR Y'ALLS HEADCANONS IF YOU HAVE THEM!!! I LOVE RAMBLES/RANTS! 🩵 No warnings, btw! Just silly stupid ass comfy headcanons I have :)

RE2 being all sweet and cuddly. Honestly, I feel like he might fall asleep to Disney movies. Just like some of the Leons to me. Always so strict on a nightly routine, too. Wash your face, brush your teeth, comb your hair etc. Then fallling asleep with a Disney movie on in the background? Heavenly. Perfection. The fact he might wear goofy ass pajamas too? He just SCREAMS trying to live his childhood while he still can young.

RE4 just washes his face and cleans his eyelashes. He feels more practical, yet still tries to take care of himself. Makes sure to take medication, but prefers if you tell him. It makes him feel special. I mean, Leon IS special. He likes comfort and trusting people. Sometimes waking up crying and burrowing into the bed beside you. RC and Spain wasn't fun at all! Your chest, neck, stomach, he loves it ALL. Adores a stomach cuddle, even if you got no stomach! Thighs, too, taking a nap while you watch a show.

ID Leon low-key feels like the small drop-off era. Still washing his face and eyelashes. Medication, if needed, still. You can notice slight changes, and him kinda hating the government in small ways now. The submarine, Jason and Shen Mei, and then getting judged for being pretty. Our pretty little blond, blue-eyed boy! Feel like he might be sick of it. Might be a little peeved at general compliments, but still tries to keep them in good faith. Grows his hair out, and gets a little messy. Just like in the comic, he looks like a soggy wet cat, y'all! Keeps his stubble pretty trimmed too.

Damnation Leon feels like the MAJOR drop. ID was the calm before the storm. Drinking problems start, and man starts getting less sleep. Probably five to four hours MAX. Still loves to cuddle like all the other Leons. You can kind of sense something is off. Washes his face, and that's it. Goes to sleep in his boxers, and kicks you in your sleep. C'mon, old man, stop kicking me in the ass! So rude! (I still love you, you little fucker.) Possible cartoon lover, I feel like once he gets older, he just kinda tries to relax. Man is tired constantly, and the alcohol makes it WORSE. Stubble is more grown out in my head.

RE6 Leon… Honestly 2nd fav. I'm an old man fucker, sorry y'all. Feel like the drinking is kinda toned down compared to Damnation, but spiked really fuckin' high in Vendetta. Silly cartoon watcher, I stand by that shit. I like making Leon be a stupid crusty, soggy cat. Probably really likes the cartoons from the 90s. His 'childhood' moment. Nicer than Damnation, but just more seasoned compared to RE4R and ID. Dad jokes and one-liners coming out at least three times a day. Sleeps about 6–7 hours on normal-ish nights. Tries to at least get 7. Please get on him about his meds or getting his eyes checked. He's crusty, and he needs a back brace possibly, too. Needs you to massage his back after a mission and just be there. Disney movie night with him when? He'll debate about the best Disney movie. His fav movie is up to you.

Vendetta… Oh, fuck. Man dropped off the wagon in multiple ways. He doesn't wash his face, and he probably does have a few tooth problems. Got a tooth gap for getting his ass beat, and is kinda self-conscious about it. Stubble is unshaven, and hair needs to be cut. He doesn't give a crap anymore, but the nightmares he has certainly give a crap about him. Making him think about quitting, if he could. We all know the poor man is gonna be strangled to death because of the government. Eye bags, pains in his body, and waking up with a horrible hangover. He doesn't really have a nightly routine, except pass out from drinking OR try to fall asleep normally. With a lover, I feel like he still wouldn't care. Movie buff AND nerd for mechanical shit. Rants about it, listen if he does it. It makes him fall in love with you slightly faster if you want to go that route. Also, TUMMMMMYYYY!!

DI LEONNNN! MY FAV! My little old ass kitten! Moves back to an ID state in a way. Instead, kinda hates the government still for his circumstances. Back to the cartoon AND falling asleep to Disney movies. Tries to remember his stuff more often now. He's still a little iffy, but he's got the spirit! Honestly, he might get LASIK. More of just wearing sweatpants and boxers kind of guy to bed. Got a little patch of chest hair too. Cuddly tummy and thighs. Likes hugging you from behind AND getting hugged from behind. Sleepy cuddles make his day better, and possibly more. Lastly, man sleeps like a rock now. If he's on top of you? Crushed. Your dead. Donezo.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy

[gyumiesz]

BECAUSE I HAD YOU ; BAKUGOU. K

tags: oneshsot, angst, no happy ending, not entirely proofread, gender-neutral, was feeling really angsty today, marriage, ex-lovers.

word count: 499 words

you're getting married.

you're getting married and it's not him. katsuki can't help the bitterness aching in his chest, his eyes watching your every movement. from the moment he saw the invitation in eijirou’s hand, he knew he should’ve fought harder—for you—for him—for the both of you.

there’s nothing worse about this than knowing he lost his chance with the love of his life.

katsuki blew it. he knows he did the second you walked out on him. like the prick he knew he was, he thought you’d come back home, apologize and pick up the pieces again.

lather. rinse. repeat.

only then, he realized you were done with him when jirou showed up at his door with a bag for your items. every day eats him alive, over and over and over again—fully aware of the consequences he brought upon himself that night.

if he could go back and change his mistake, katsuki would take anything over the sight of you walking down the aisle with another person. regret gnaws at his chest, nibble by nibble.

“hey,” he chokes out, “can we talk?” the ring on your finger shimmers underneath the sun, you’re just as beautiful as the day you left him. reluctantly, your partner lets you go as you reassure them you’ll be okay, walking off with katsuki to a quieter corner.

the lump in the back of his throat clogs his airway, chest pounding immensely with the most dizzying sensation known to mankind. he can’t make out the words he wishes, eyes shifting towards the ground.

katsuki whispers your name like a prayer, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” his voice cracks, streaks of blonde hair falling out of place.

“i hated you for a long time, a really long time until i felt what peace was like with them” you confess. katsuki grimaces, hating on how your ring is a reminder of his past failure to love you the way you deserved.

you retract your hand as the warmth fades away. he’s already missing you. your smile. your laugh. everything about you is so hypnotizing and katsuki knows--he knows that he'll hate himself for a life time because he hurt you. “but i forgave you long ago, katsuki. they make me really happy and i hope you can find happiness too”

it’s as if a screw tightened his adam’s apple, the words fall out like a loose bolt, “i love you. i love you and I know nothing can change the fact that you’re married—i, i just wanted you to know that i’m glad you’re in good hands”

fuck. katsuki can’t stop shaking. he feels hot; hands sweating profusely, tugging on the collar of his suit, watching the way you twirl around to face him one last time.

“thank you, katsuki.” you smile for what feels like eternity and his heart flatlines; because he had you, katsuki knows he won't be able to love another like you.

#leewrites ☪︎ #credit divider: chachachannah #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou scenarios #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x gn!reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou

[undercoverpena]

i will wait

johnny 'soap' mactavish x f!reader

wc: 1.3k | fluff w/feels and dedicated to @eowynstwin who i aim to make smile. summary: Knuckles against your cheek as he merges his joy with yours, whispering I love you so only you can hear. 

Things are different when he’s home. 

The sun is warmer, the light having an additional glow; the candles smell stronger, and food has more taste. You told him that once before, that he had such a profound impact on you. His cheeks had blushed, and then he’d kissed you as if he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. 

You like it when his voice is no longer a distant memory, but something dripping in your ear. You’re back to his chest, a hand up and around his neck, as you stand over the hob. 

Yer t’good to me, lass. I’ll remind you of that when I drag you into a furniture shop.

It’s hard, but it’s worth it being with Johnny. He brings laughter, smiles and makes your heart so full, you’re not sure how it ever thumped so boldly before knowing him. He also makes you grin so broad your face hurts—an ache that’s not entirely gone since the moment he slotted himself into your life. 

All of it, the two of you, began with a kind smile as you served him a cup of tea. Him with his cousins, loud and brash, in the cafe you work in. The flirting began shortly after, continuing and escalating when he stood next to you at the fence of a local football game, and it all cemented itself with a kiss—in a village where everyone knows one another. 

Anyone tell yer that you got the prettiest eyes, lass?  It’s not usually the first thing someone says.  Well, y’have. Thank you… Johnny. Thank you, Johnny. 

You did. 

Over and over again. 

But, it’s worth it. The moments in between filled with a loud, heart-filled Scottish family and the constant knowledge that when he’s able to, he’ll hold you close. His arms around your waist, face aching from laughing, cheeks throbbing from smiling. Knuckles against your cheek as he merges his joy with yours, whispering I love you so only you can hear. 

Don’t wanna leave. Wanna stay ‘ere, place my tongue between y’thighs—taste heaven all over again. You keep talking like that, MacTavish, and I won’t let you go. 

It would be a lie to say he didn’t come with loneliness. A sight you didn’t notice in full until the two of you signed your names and a pair of keys were in your palm. It showed itself when he became the man who lives in your home, who isn’t always present. Not just physically, but mentally. 

His things are mixed and merged with yours, sometimes more than others. In good times, there are boots by the doors and a duffel bag left in the way. Sometimes, there’s just your shoes, coat and tidiness. A memory of him, a ghost haunting a side of the bedroom. 

You realise quickly, you have come to hate the tidiness. You like his mess—one caused by not being home long enough to know where things go. 

Foolishly, you had thought you missed him the most when the two of you first began seeing one another. When you had to say goodbye at the airport and hold back your tears which clogged your throat. 

You were proved wrong when you moved in together, staring at unworn shirts with the tags still on, writing plans on the calendar you weren’t sure he’d be here for. Saying goodbye on your doorstep, heart aching, hoping you’d see him in a few months at the very least. 

Occasionally, you’re far more lonely when he’s home. When he’s haunted by the failings, the loss and the little mistakes that mount—even if they never did too much damage. When he’s around you, but not quite in the way you like or are used to… that’s when you long for him. 

Anyone tell yer that you got the prettiest eyes, lass?  You do. Constantly.  Because, y’have. Johnny…

Let me compliment y’, hen. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I left.

He allows you in when the lights are off, the blankets drawn back, nothing covering either of your skin. Both in a vulnerable state, but never feeling safer. An orange glow flutters in through undrawn curtains, him on his side, leaning on his elbow as he stares at you. Trailing calloused fingers up and over your bare hip, breathe dancing along your collarbone. 

It’s hard. To switch from Soap t’ Johnny. 

He says it as though one is a mask and the other is someone he barely knows. Something you hope you kiss away, reminding him who he is, pulling him back using the thread tied between you. 

How can I help?  Jus’ be you, can always find myself back t’you. 

He likes the stars, how they twinkle. You wonder if it’s a ploy, a way to get you outside curled up with him on a rickety chair and a blanket. His hands all over you, aiming to keep you warm, but leaving nothing but goosebumps in their path. 

Missed y’loads. You don’t have to miss me now. Don’t I kno’ it. 

You show him why he doesn’t need to—taking him upstairs, to the mattress that barely knows him. You let your teeth run along his jaw, hands over his chest. Smoothing over new marks, faded bruises and a wounded soul.

It’s the way he prefers, even if he doesn’t say it. Forcing reasons from his tongue why he just wants to lie in bed, but never complaining when you slowly slide whatever clothes you’re wearing from your skin. 

He doesn’t protest when you throw your leg over his, when you bring his lips to yours—tasting the lost time and love that lives on them. 

You sink down so he fills you like only he can, groaning close to his ear, filling his mind with sounds that can root him here. His hand sliding between you, a smirk elongating, Johnny returning to you—mouth parted, ghosting over yours as he watches in awe and earnestness.

Y’so pretty when y’make a mess, lass— —Johnny— I kno’, lemme feel y’hen. 

Eventually, when the two of you have said all you can say without using words, breath returns to your lungs. Both of you meet messy sheets, and he runs his knuckles over your cheek, a softness in his eyes—a simmering brightness that’ll fully bloom after some sleep. 

You watch him, fingers tracing his chin as he lets his gaze run over you. Likely painting you, committing you to some canvas he has thrown up in his mind. 

He’s drawn you before. Almost as naked as you are now, but there had been no ring on your finger, no sheets under you that the two of you had chosen together. A messier time, when you weren’t sure if he’d always come home to you—not like you know now, eyes catching the glint of the streetlight catching the gem on your left hand. 

“What you thinking about?” 

Sliding up into his cheek, his smile all Johnny—the one which had hooked you in. The one which made your stomach flip and your chest fill, even now. 

“That Gho—Simon‘ll be here in a few days,” he whispers. 

Tracing his bottom lip with your finger, you roll your lips. “And then, I’ll steal your surname.” 

“Not theft if I’m givin’ it y’, hen.” 

Cupping his cheek, you smile as he mirrors yours. “I am so in love with you, Johnny.”

“I love yer too, hen. More tha’ I can put into words.” One of his hands sliding over your hip, eyes shifting, darkening—turning from bright blue into something akin to an ocean. “So, lemme show y’instead.” 

He’s home, you think as he kisses down your collarbone, tongue drawing circles as he leaves a trail over your breasbone. 

Fingers in his hand, wrapping, curling around an outgrown mohawk, gasping as he spells how much he loves you. 

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap Mactavish x f!reader #soap 🧼 #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x you #cod soap x reader #cod soap #soap mw2

[endlessdaydream]

I get it, live actions aren’t for everybody and that’s totally fine. Not everyone’s gonna like it. But to shit on the stupidest things, or draw the dumbest conclusions??? Blocked. Y’all look dense as fuck. Views will be mixed as they always are, quit clogging up the tags with your negativity and find some chill 😂 The originals are still there to watch or read and enjoy…so go do that…it’s literally on the same app 👏🏻 I’m trying to be understanding I am, but some of y’all are so damn hung up you’re letting it completely destroy something you’d otherwise enjoy

Anyways!! Here’s some of the stuff I loved from the atla live action!

•cinematography, soundtrack, costumes - all on point

•getting to see the airbenders flourishing!!! Also the dude who played Gyatso?! Didn’t think I could love him more!! Even though it was painful as FUCKKKK getting to see the first invasion of the fire benders was an epic masterpiece

•speaking of, the first scene?? With the earthbender soldiers in the fire nation?? Iconic

•Omashu: unpop opinion I’m sure (bc y’all hate change but simultaneously hate when it’s carbon copy????????🤦🏼‍♀️) I loved how they incorporated like 3 or 4 episodes into one, and they flowed really well together. Jet is FOINEEE. Mechanist was perfect & his son is a freaking badass, amazing casting! Even though it was change, the secret tunnel scenes were still really freaking cool and the badgermoles were SICK AS FUCK. Also I love that Bumi was still cooky but not just randomly cooky? Like mans was run down from being king basically the entire war…which FAIR. And it made sense that he was peeved with Aang BECAUSE they were such good friends. Like the other avatars being mad at him? Yea that’s whatever. But for Bumi it was kinda personal. Also CABBAGE MAN WE MISSED YOU 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 Oh! And the way they mentioned other episodes like they were lore when Zuko was trying to find Aang? That was an amazing way to tie back to the OG series

•I love how they incorporated the blue spirit, Koh, the fog of lost souls & parts of the ep where sokka and Katara got sick & Aang had to get them frogs - just reimagined it. Oh also Hei Bai! Yea, I loved that whole episode. Koh & Hei Bai were SCARY as fuck, it was awesome!!

•HAHN MY BELOVED…I ADORE YOU! Favorite character that they added/changed. Katara getting the other women involved in the battle?! Tui & La? The oasis?! 😭😭 stunning!!!! I also LOVEDDDDD Aangs avatar spirit that he turned into, literally perfect! And I loved the change that he gave himself over to the spirits wrath..fucking SICK. Also right before aang turned into the spirit/whatever that’s called, I was praying they’d do the line and thEY DIDDDD!!!

•Fire lord Ozai?? 😳😚 nothing needed to be said - perfection

•Kyoshi?! The Kyoshi warriors?! SUKI?! - speechless

•I like that they’re making more of a point to show how smart Sokka is! Mechanist calling him an engineer…I hope they play more into that! Ik they did a bit in the show with the subs (cartoon), but still

•”~hE rAn~” seriously my favorite line, I was DYINGGGG!!! The scenes with Zuko and Iroh, Zuko before the war meeting, the leaves from the vine being in the background at the funeral….ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME?! Zuko’s crew being the crew he SAVED?! And when they find out they all do the fire nation bows to their prINCE?! 😭😭😭😭

I’m being fair y’all - things I don’t love/hope they change:

•this one I’m 50/50 on - I don’t love that they tried to give Kuruk a reason for disappearing. They tried to pull shit from Korra to make him look meaningful & not useless as an avatar and it didn’t hit for me

•some of the wigs: obviously we won’t see Yue again, but I wanted her hair to be white. I didn’t love the wig but it wouldn’t have been as bad for me if it wasn’t so grey. Also do NOT love Azula, Tylee or Mai’s hair. Ik they look just like the show but whether that’s wigs or their actual hair (I’m clueless) it needs some serious improvement. Azula’s looks great down, I just don’t like how big the side pieces are that frame her face when it’s up.

•Katara, my love, I am PRAYING part of your development is also going to be her becoming more outspoken and badass, bc this season we saw the tiniest of glimpses of it, not a fan (unless it’s a part of her development…she did grow up in a tiny ass tribe so I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt)

• IK they’re going with a much more serious Aang, but pleaseeeee give us some actual moments of him being a kid. We saw that like twice 😭

•Dante is the PERFECT ZUKO, I will hear NO slander. However, I need him to be more of a dick. I’m hoping we’ll get that when he gets super desolate when they’re on the run & then we have Zuko alone & he has his inner battle. I need snarky dickhead Zuko, so you can truly see the big differences between what he’s fighting (himself vs. who his dad wants him to be)

Have fun kids!

In case I haven’t made it clear, idgaf if you disagree. I go so hard for these live actions because it’s fun! It’s just supposed to be fun and different and new. If you get so serious about it you’re ALWAYS going to be disappointed, there’s no way around it bc nothing is ever going to be as good as the original book, the original show, the original tale. OG atla is ALWAYS gonna be the winner, nothing will compare! So sit back ~relax~ and find some joy in the little things

#also if I see anymore of you IDIOTS say Aang was flying in episode one? I’m gonna choke #atla #natla #Netflix atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #netflix avatar the last airbender #zuko #aang #katara #sokka #toph #uncle Iroh #northern water tribe #southern water tribe #kyoshi #kuruk #Roku #yangchen #monk gyatso #appa #kataang #zutara #azula #ty lee #Mai #fire lord ozai #momo #atla spoilers

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 2.7 k 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Alright, I hope this chapter makes sense to people. It does to me but I somehow feel as though it is convoluted. And maybe it is but I hope you love it anyway. And hopefully, it’s still believable in the Supernatural universe.

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Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @lyarr24, @deans-baby-momma, @just-cuz22, @c1eepypas1a,

@kr804573, @zepskies, @impalari, @urinternetmom, @sushiumex

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Dude, what the hell was that?” Sam glared at his brother.

“The truth.” Dean shrugged. Sam just gave a deadpanned look. “Come on, Sammy. Do you seriously believe that the kid is cut out for hunting?”

“She did save your life before in that vampire nest. So, I’d say yes, she is.” Sam started after his brother. “Seriously, what’s your problem with her?”

“My problem is she doesn’t look like a hunter, Sam.” Dean fished his keys out of his pockets. “And she sure as hell doesn’t act like one.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “And who the hell doesn’t drink on a weekday? After a hunt?”

“Seriously, Dean?”

“What? That’s how most hunters celebrate after a hunt.” Dean reminded him. “What does she think? That she’s above us?”

“She never said that.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t need to.” He climbed in the driver’s seat. Sam pushed out a sigh before getting in the car.

You slammed the door to your motel room behind you. Your throat was clogged up, tears rushed out of your eyes. You dropped on your bed and stopped the first onslaught of sobs by pressing your hands against your mouth. Your body racked with sobs, but you remained quiet. Not wanting anyone to hear. For which you berated yourself for, no one could hear you anyway because you were alone.

They weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of frustration and anger. You did not know how else to let out those emotions. You didn’t cry out of anger all the time. But it did happen at times. Most of the time, those tears were out of frustration. Frustration at how you had failed tonight. Frustration at how you let your fears overcome you. Frustration at how mad he sounded when he yelled at you.  

You hated yelling.

“Stop being so overdramatic.” You wiped at your eyes furiously. “There is no reason for you to cry about this. Why are you like this?” You took in a shaky breath. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” Your hand rubbed at your chest, over your heart. As though, you were soothing the ache. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

After a few minutes of repeating those words to yourself as a chant, your tears had died down. You washed your face and you did the only thing you could do. You took your focused back on the hunt. Dean Winchester was wrong. You knew what you were doing. And yes, you may have messed up but you were going to fix it. Like you always did.

The monster that attacked you was not a werewolf. Neither was it a skinwalker. It was something completely different, something you had never faced before. You opened your laptop and worked the case back from square one.

You took in consideration that the victims had all been attacked and bound before they died. Which you still didn’t understand why because that creature didn’t seem as though it needed its victim to be neutralized. It was quite powerful on its own. So, why restrained its victims?

While researching, you chased away any thoughts you may have about the Winchesters. Especially Dean. You didn’t understand why he disliked you so much. You had not done anything to him. You had remained polite and cordial when you first met. Nothing had happened that you could remember, that may have soured his opinion of you. To the point where instead of comforting you after you almost died, he snapped at you. Acting like an asshole.

“Leave this to us before you get yourself killed.” You grumbled under your breath. “Like you know better than I do. I saved your life and now, you’re talking to me like I’m a kid. What a gaping asshole!” You let out a frustrated sigh, tears pressing against your eyes. “It’s okay. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re going to prove him wrong. Make him eat his words.”

And eat his word, he would.

You stayed up all night to research for a monster that would feed on hearts, that wouldn’t be a werewolf or a skinwalker. And the only thing you came across that could fit the bill, was from Egyptian mythology. A creature that was called Ammit, the Devourer of the Dead. It fit the bill but you still had your doubts. You did not get a good look at it and it was dark out. You weren’t sure that the creature resembled the drawings that portrayed Ammit. However, it could explain why the victims needed to be restrained for Ammit to feed on them.

Ammit, also known as the Devourer of the Dead, was believed to be a demon rather than a deity. During the Judgment of Dead, the heart of the deceased was weighed against the feather of Ma’at, the goddess of truth. If the heart was weighted less than the feather, they were ruled to be pure and allowed to enter paradise. If their heart was weighted more than the feather, they were ruled to be impure and their heart would be devoured by Ammit. Leaving them without a soul and to wander in Limbo. Stuck between the world of the living and the dead. Restless in eternity.

You knew the victims were still alive when their hearts had been ripped from their chests. You just didn’t know why or who would do this? And that was what you needed to find out. So, on no sleep and a pounding headache, you knocked on the door of the first victim’s house. You wanted to know more about the victims, know more about their last days, their habits. Knowing more about them would give you more insight as to why they were killed.

The victims were around the same age and being in the same small town, that could only mean they had grown up together. It seemed that other the years they had grown apart. So, nothing was linking them to one another before their deaths. One of the victim’s friend had even mention a falling out. But did not mention anything more than that. Nevertheless, you had found a pamphlet for an exhibit at the local museum. An ancient Egyptian exhibition. Which only reinforced your belief that Ammit was the monster that killed those people.

You made a quick stop to the local café; your sleepless night was catching up to you. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and your yawning to a minimum. You needed some help to keep your eyes open for the rest of the day. Especially since you were planning to go at the ancient Egyptian exhibit.

With your much needed coffee in hand, sunglasses back on your face, you walked out of the local café. You had barely made it out when your elbow was roughly grabbed by none other than Dean Winchester. The rage you had felt towards him had dwindled through the day but seeing him now, your frustration and anger flared back up.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You ripped your elbow from his grasp and glared at him, from behind your dark tinted glasses. “Enjoying my coffee. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You’re still working the case.” He retorted, jaw clenched and glaring at you.

You took a sip from your cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She doesn’t—” Dean let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, Princess, we are working the case and you talking to the vics’ families ain’t making things easy for us.”  

You gave it a beat, playing with the lid of your cup. “I fail to see how this is my problem, Bucko. I mean how could I do such a thing? Clearly, you and your brother are professionals. Me talking to them shouldn’t get in the way, now, should it?” You took a step back away from them, “After all, you said it yourself, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You turned away from them and walked up to your car.

“It would be easier if we were working the case together, you know.” Sam suggested, following you. “Instead of getting in each other’s way.”

You fished out your keys. “Your brother wouldn’t agree to this.” You looked over at Dean, he was glaring at you still. “And frankly, I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than work with him. Best of luck to both of you.”

The exhibit was mostly about funerary rituals. Coincidentally, the first kill happened a few days after the exhibit had started. Meaning that the creature had come with the exhibit. Thanks to the guide, you learned that this was the first time the exhibit was put together by a young professor; Amanda Carlisle. She had gone out of town to college a few years back and made it big. She’d come back to make her hometown the first to see the exhibit she put together. Her parents were proud, and so was the whole town.  

Unfortunately, as you moved to speak to the professor in question, two giants that stood out like sore thumbs in the middle of this exhibit, were already speaking with her. You glared at Dean as he sent a smug smile your way. Clearly, he was happy that he was one step ahead of you this time. You puffed out a frustrated sigh, you would not turn this into a competition with the Winchesters. Not if you could help it. You had much more important things to do.  

Professor Carlisle was welcomed upon her return. A small-town girl that went to a prestigious college and came back successful. Plus, she was letting her home town benefit from that success of hers. Sharing the glory, so to speak. The victims were around her age too. Some may have been older of a few years but they were all around the same age. The victims and the professor had gone to school together. They might even have been friends. Except, they weren’t.

The best thing about small town was that everyone knew one another, and words got around fast. And it wouldn’t be too hard to get information from some the people, especially those who couldn’t wait to gossip. And boy, did they have a lot to tell you.

Amanda Carlisle was always a straight A student; it was no surprise for anyone that she would go far in life. But Amanda was never the popular kid. If her parents, her teachers and the rest of the town were proud of her, the other kids in her school did not exactly love her. You never quite understood the concept of bullying or why it happened. Was it jealousy or insecurity? Was it just because they didn’t like who she was or how she presented? No one really knew. However, it was clear for many people and known by the general public, they made her life a living hell.

And this was her revenge.

The shrill sound of your ringtone brutally pulled you out of your sleep. You blindly reached out for your phone on your bedside table.

“Yeah?” You answered groggily without checking the caller ID first. Your name was said on the other side of the line. “Sam? What’s going on?” You sat up, rubbing your eyes.

“I need your help.”

“And I don’t know what I’m doing.” You hissed at Sam as both of you walked to the back door of the museum.

“Seriously?” Sam turned to you.

“What? I’m allowed.” You talked back. “He gave me crap for being attacked. And now, he’s the one who got abducted. Don’t you think it’s a little ironic?”

Sam sighed. “It might be but—he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

You rounded on him, glaring. “Good luck on finding your brother—alone.”

“Okay, okay—” He stopped you from walking away. “He was wrong for yelling at you but I mean, you gotta admit that was pretty reckless on your part.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well, not everyone has the luxury to have a hunting partner like you and your brother do.”

The growls of the creature reached your ears as you got closer to the office. The rattling of chains and muffled voices could be heard through the door that had been left ajar. Sam and you glanced at each other, grabbing your guns. Sam reached for the Ram’s horn in his bag, securing it. He had told you they already faced an Egyptian deity in the past, and the Ram’s horn had incapacitated the deity. With no real lore on how to stop Ammit, you went with his suggestion.

Dean was bound to a large table in the middle of the room. Ammit was held in a cage while Amanda looked at her lovingly.

“Let’s step away from the demon.” You aimed your gun at the professor. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

Amanda turned to you slowly, wearing a smirk on her face. “I got him exactly where I want him.” She said as her eyes moved away from you over to Dean. “I know what he did to you.” Her eyes moved back to you. “He humiliated you, yelled at you. He deserves what’s coming to him.”

“Like they all did, right?” You countered.

“The poor girl tried to survive the aftermath of her humiliation but she couldn’t.” You frowned at her words. “She was too weak. She needed me. And so do you.”

With a flick of her hand, she opened the cage and unleashed Ammit. The demon pounced on you, tackling you to the ground. You fired your gun as you fell backwards. The wind got knocked out of your lungs. Ammit’s breath hit your face as you tried to push her away. Your gun had been knocked out of your hands.

“SAM,” You called, your voice strained. Ammit reared back as Sam stabbed it in the back. The demon writhed in pain, falling to the ground. Dean had been freed, was now fighting off Amanda. She shoved Dean away, his back hit one of the walls. Sam aimed his gun at her, without even lifting a finger, the gun flew out of Sam’s hands. She marched onto him, furious. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and lifted him off of the ground. You turned to the creature on the ground, she was still writhing in pain. You moved to take out the Ram’s horn from her back.

“This is all your fault.” Amanda grabbed your shoulders as you turned to face her. She was furious, enraged. “I was trying to help you.”

“Yeah, I didn’t ask for it.” And you stabbed her in the neck with the Ram’s horn. Her eyes shone with purple lights, her body suddenly and quickly decaying, turning into a mummy, before she fell to the ground. And the demon vanished into thin air.

You threw your bag in the passenger seat, Sam and Dean were standing behind you. Sam cleared his throat before he nudged his brother.

“Look—”

“Don’t bother.” You shoved your hands in your pockets. “It’s already forgiven.”

“What?” Dean scrunched up his eyebrows.

“You were going to apologize, right?”

“Apologize for what?” Dean asked back.

“Oh, I don’t know, Bucko.” You shook your head. “Maybe for yelling at me in the woods. How about that?”

“So what? You can’t handle a little yelling?”

“I can handle yelling. Doesn’t mean I have to. Especially, after I almost got killed.” You glared at him.

“Well, someone has to tell you when you’re screwing up.” Dean stepped closer to you. “And you screwed up that night.”

“For the love of Aphrodite, you think you know better than me, don’t you?”

“Oh, Princess, I know better than you.” Dean continued. “And let me tell you, you’re not—”

“Alright, enough,” Sam placed himself between you and his brother. “Seriously—” Sam put a hand on your shoulder. “Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled at the youngest Winchester. “At least, one of you is appreciative.” You turned to Dean with a smirk. “Can’t say the same for everyone.” Dean rolled his eyes, letting out a groan. “Anyway, I gotta fly. And words of advice, you should do the same.”

Sam pulled you in a quick hug, catching you by surprise. “Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah, will do.” You smiled at him as he pulled away. You sent a nod Dean’s way. “Bucko.”

“Princess.” He answered in kind.

You climbed in your truck and drove off.

“You know I gotta give it to her.” Dean started as he and his brother walked to the Impala.

“What?”

“She ain't that bad."

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#dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester x plus sized!reader

[viking-raider]

Soothing the Shadows

Summary: You were Marshall's nurse, after he was shot by Simon Stulls. The two of you fall in love, and everything seems perfect, but it's strained by Marshall holding something back from you. His fear of losing you.

Pairing: Walter Marshall/Reader

Word Count: 6.5

Warning: M - Mention of Violence, PTSD, Severe Flashback, Mention of an ugly divorce, Language, Fluff, Alcohol Use, Mental Health battle - SMUT - fingering (F receiving), protected intercourse.

Inspiration: So, for this fic, I sort of meshed Marshall and Sy together into one.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

Dating a homicide detective wasn't easy. Especially, when that homicide detective was Captain Walter Marshall.

The pair of you had met after Marshall was injured on the job, having been shot by Simon Stulls and his twin brother. You were the nurse that took care of Marshall, while he recovered from the near fatal wound that rendered him in the Intensive Care Unit for two weeks.

“How are we feeling tonight, Captain Marshall?” You asked, breezing into Marshall's private room, with a bright smile, finding your grumpy and sometimes difficult patient in his bed, one massive arm in a sling and the other working the remote control to his tv.

“Hm.” Marshall huffed back at you, rolling his eyes.

You chuckled at him, not taking it personally. “How's your pain level?” You inquired, checking his medical chart to see the notes from his previous nurse, before moving over to examine the vitals on his monitors. “Better than yesterday?” You asked, lifting a brow in his direction, remembering the discomfort he had been in.

“Six.” He rattled off the number, shrugging his good shoulder.

“Would you like me to get you anything for it?”

“No, I'm fine.” Marshall answered, sighing softly, setting the remote down on the little rolling table next to his bed and raked a hand through his hair. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

“Is our hospitality that bad?” You quipped, giggling at him, hoping to get him to at least smile. “I could phone the manager.”

Marshall looked up, his blue eyes regarding you for a long moment, making you feel like he was reading your soul, before he finally responded. A twinkle in his gaze. “No, I'd hate to complain to the manager. Especially when there's one bright spot in the hospitality.”

“Well that's-” You gulped, shifting in your rubber nurse's clogs. “That's good to know, Captain Marshall.” You told him, a bit sheepish.

“Marshall.” He corrected you, gently. “Just call me, Marshall.”

“Marshall.” You smirked, nodding your head. “I'm glad you enjoy the hospitality. But I also hope you go home soon. I'm sure your daughter is ready for you too.” You said, changing the subject, so the heat in your cheeks would cool off.

“And, your wife.” You added, a small lump in your throat.

“Oh, she's-”

“Code Blue.” The Hospital P.A crackled over the speakers. “Code Blue. All personnel. Code Blue, room eighteen.”

“Oh crap!” You gasped, adrenaline starting to pump through your veins. “I'm so sorry!” You said quickly, before rushing out of his room.

Sadly, you weren't able to see Marshall again. Your code blue patient took up most of your time and when you were finished with them and your other rounds, Marshall had been released to go home. You were happy for him, even though you were a bit sad that you hadn't been able to say goodbye and see him off.

But you got another opportunity to come your way.

“Hey.” One of your co-workers tapped you on the shoulder as you stood at the nurse's station, filling out a medication request. “There's a super handsome guy asking for you.”

You looked up from the computer. “What?” You frowned at her, confused. “Who?”

“I don't know, I didn't get a name. But he's damned sexy.” She chuckled, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Shaking your head, you leaned over the counter of the nurse's station, looking down the hall and towards the doors that allowed entry onto your floor. You were shocked to see Marshall standing there, reading one of the posters on the wall. “Oh my god!” You gasped, quickly pulling back, before he could see you.

“Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he was one of my patients.” You told her, fussing over your black, whimsical bee, scrubs and hair.

“Well, you must like each other.” She commented, watching you with amusement.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, going by her and trying to act natural and calm, despite being nervous beyond belief. “Marshall, what are you doing here? Is everything all right? Is your wound healing?” You asked, trying to be professional.

“Everything's fine.” He smiled at you, instinctively touching his shoulder. “It's healing great.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“I-uh-came to see you.” He confessed, biting the inside of his lip. “I wanted to know, if you'd like to get some coffee with me, sometime?” He asked, shoulders stiffening with resolve.

You narrowed your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side. “Aren't you married?”

Marshall drew in a deep breath, tightly folding his arms over his chest. “I was married, yes.” He replied, his face darkening. “Angie and I divorced some time ago. It's complicated and not something I'd like to get into.”

“All right, as long as I'm not being a home wrecker by accepting your offer.” You answered, relieved.

“I assure you, you're not.” Marshall said, relief dancing in his blue eyes. “So, when are you next available?”

You looked down at your watch, tilting your head side to side for a moment. “I can take my lunch break right now.” You told him, meeting his gaze with a smirk.

“All right.” He nodded, turning to push open one of the doors behind him, for you.

That day had changed both your and Marshall's lives. You quickly fell in love with each other and craved each other constantly. But there was a drawback to dating Marshall. You hadn't made that step to move in with each other yet, as much as you wanted too. So, you went to one another's place. It was usually Marshall coming over to your flat though, after he got off from his shift at the station. You would make him dinner and the two of you would cuddle up under a blanket on the couch with a glass of wine, or more specifically, a glass of wine for you and a glass of whiskey for him, to watch a movie or one of the shows the two of you had become interested in together.

“Walter.” You giggled, shifting beneath the heavy comforter the two of you were under, trying to watch Peaky Blinders.

“What?” He husked back, turning his head into the side of your face, moaning softly, while his hand squeezed the inside of your thigh again.

“Keep that naughty hand to yourself, Captain.” You teased, turning your face into his.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Marshall replied, feigning innocence.

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, smelling the sharp honey and caramel of the whiskey on his breath. “What's this?” You asked, rubbing your legs together against his hand.

“Oh, you mean that hand.” He smirked, gently nudging his nose against yours. “I don't know how it got there, but since it is.” He said, pushing it up to cup you through the thin, purple fabric of your panties.

Your gasp melted into a deep whimper, as Marshall started to rub you, watching you through hooded and lusty blue eyes. You turned, pressing your back against the armrest of the couch and opened your legs, giving Marshall full access to your dripping womanhood. He reached under the quilt, not removing it, to keep the chill of the room off of you, as he all but tore your underwear off your body. Tossing them absently over his shoulder and behind the couch, Marshall's hand was back on your privates within a millisecond.

“Oh Christ.” You mewled, arching your back against his hand, his middle finger slipping between your slick folds as he caressed you, teasing you. “Walt, please!” You begged him, pushing the heel of one of your feet into the top of his thigh, nudging his leg impatiently.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head at you, curving that evil digit into your canal. “I haven't seen you in two days, babe.” He panted, licking his lips. “I want to enjoy it.”

“Then take your fucking shirt off, Marshall!” You barked, outraged and worked up as the tip of his finger grazed your sweet spot.

Marshall laughed, “That requires me to take my hand off of you.” He pointed out, amused by your situation.

You dropped your head back on the couch arm, then sat up, shivering as Marshall's finger reached different angles, and grabbed at his shirt. Bunching the knitted material in your hands, you yanked on it until you managed to pull it off over his head, then tossed it in his face for extra drama. Making him chuckle and toss it back at you, before driving his finger deep into your spot. Caught off guard, your hand flew out, clawing into the exposed skin at the top of his shoulder and leaving very angry crescents behind in their wake.

“Lord have mercy, Marshall!” You cried out, your head flying back, while you rocked on his hand.

“Lay back.” He purred at you, planting a kiss to your fingers. “Let me make you feel good.”

“You always do, Donut.” You teased, laying back again, tugging the blanket up over you as you did.

Marshall blushed slightly at your nickname for him. “I try, Angel.” He replied, gently working his finger inside of you, crooking it to tease your walls, knowing all the places to hit.

Your toes curled and you moaned softly, eyes rolling shut as you rutted against his hand, rolling your hips. Marshall looked at your face, a soft smirk on his own, seeing the pure pleasure you were in. He slipped in a second and started rubbing your clit with his thumb, drawing out a loud sigh from you. The want to keep that look on your face forever was so strong inside of Marshall. You were relaxed in the essence of pleasure and bliss, with no care in the world, other than what his fingers were doing to you.

“Walter, please!” You begged him, brows drawing together as you looked down your face at him.

Smirking, Walter freed his fingers from inside of you and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into his lap and a heady kiss. He moved to the edge of the couch and stood, taking you with him, supporting you against his body as he carried you to the bedroom, one big paw rubbing firm circles over your back to keep the flat's chill away, until getting there.

“Why do you keep it so cold in here?” Marshall commented, resting you on the bed.

“I don't know. Guess I'm just used to the chill of the hospital. I don't really pay attention to it, until you show up.” You replied, giggling as you pushed the blankets to the foot of the bed.

“I should start a fire.” He said, glancing at the enclosed fireplace, in the corner of your room, as he stood at the side of your bed, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down his tree-trunk thighs.

“You already started one.” You cooed at him, licking your lips at the titanic tent in the front of his boxer briefs, reaching out to palm it through the black material. “A big one, Bear.” You hummed, feeling the hot beast that lived within throb against your palm.

Marshall's eyes fluttered back into their sockets as you fondled him, pressing himself against your hand, growling deep in his throat and chest. You smirked up at him, leaning forward to press your lips to his hairy belly. Smoothing your palm upwards, you curled your fingers around the elastic waistband and slowly peeled his boxers down. Even with anticipation, your eyes grew and you gasped silently, when Marshall's thick and veiny, cut cock sprang heavily free from the confines of the garment.

Reaching into your bedside drawer, you removed a square object from inside and tossed it on one of the pillows, before looking at Marshall.

“Come to me.” You whispered, removing your shirt and heading up the bed.

Looking you over, like a hungry wolf, Marshall stalked up the bed towards you. Moving over you and nuzzling his face into your neck, he nibbled and kissed at the skin there and at your shoulder, while his hands smoothed down your sides, touching every inch of your body. You felt the rub of Marshall's beard as he left love-bites you'd be feeling during your shift later tomorrow. But that didn't bother you, you wanted to feel Walter with you. Always. You had one hand tugging at the curls at the back of his head and the other clawing into one cheek of his rump, as he grabbed at your knees, shoving them wide open to buck against you, his cock dripping against your slickness, mixing with the ultimate finale.

It didn't take love for Marshall's thought of lighting a fire to become nonsensical, the two of you were heated and glistening with sweat, from your combined actions and feelings. Perspiration pearled down Marshall's vast back as he pulled away from you, only slightly, his darkened blue eyes meeting yours in a hungry and sultry gaze, that sent a chill so powerful through your burning body, goose-flesh was raised.

“Mine.” He growled, in a deep pant.

“All yours.” You gulped back, nodding and sucking your lip between your teeth.

Marshall sat up between your legs, and you grabbed at the item you had tossed on the pillow earlier. It was a condom. You tore it open and took out the opaque-red and lubricated rubber, tossing the packaging carelessly to the floor, while Marshall grasped himself at the root, the head of his member changing a shade of purple, to hold his thick cock steady. You carefully rolled the protection down over his length, marveled at how it looked, snug over the throbbing veins. Wrapping your hand around the head of Walter's manhood, you stroked it downward, ensuring the sleeve was secure in place, before reaching up to grab him by the shoulder and pull him down into a heated kiss.

While you kissed, Marshall lined himself up with your weeping entrance. It never seemed mattered how many times the two of you were intimate, you never quite grew accustomed to Marshall's sheer size. Even with the help of being aroused and lubricated, there was always that initial stretch of him easing inside of you, of his girth reshaping you for the billionth time in the two years you had been dating. But it quickly subsided into something so marvelously euphoric, that you couldn't help the soft smile that crossed your lips or the curl of your toes.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you against his body, an arm encircling your waist and the other around your shoulders, his knees planted into the mattress, as he rocked into you. The wood headboard smacked against the wall behind it, keeping time with each thrust. Thankfully, it was an outer wall, so your next door neighbor wasn't too bothered by the noise, and he was used to your and Marshall's love making, by now.

Good and patient, Preston.

“Christ, Marshall!” You cried out, your walls kneading around him, feeling every furious movement that begged his manhood to release his magic and bring you both into a world of unimaginable bliss.

“Fuck, babe.” He panted back, his hot breath wafting over the skin of your face.

He pressed his temple against yours, letting out small whimpers of effort and moans of pleasure in random intervals. His thrusts lost rhythm and became rougher, as he neared his climax, your own aiding the effort. Marshall throbbed inside of your quivering walls and you felt the muscles of his stomach clench and become rock hard. He made his tell-tale sound, a soft, groaning sigh, as he unloaded inside of the protective barrier between you. Nonetheless, your slick canal struggled to keep a hold of Marshall's unloading and still working cock, feeling it surge inside of you. Your back arched, pushing yourself up against his clenched stomach, nails racking down his sweaty back.

“Marshall!” You cried out, shuttering with each wave of pleasure that washed through you. “Oh god, Marshall.” You whimpered, slowly lowering yourself back down, spent. “I love you.” You sighed softly, after a few moments to catch your breath.

Marshall rolled you both onto your sides, tucking your head under his chin and against his chest. “I love you too.” He whispered back, hugging you hard against him, fingers tangling in the back of your hair.

You struggled to stay awake, not wanting to fall asleep, knowing what it meant, if you did. But you were spent from a long shift, the previous night, little sleep and the exhausted pull of your love making. Soon enough, you were snoring into Marshall's collarbone. But, when you woke with a jolt a few hours later, your heart thundering in your chest, a good enough fire in the fireplace to keep your room warm, but not roast you alive, however you were alone.

“Marshall?” You called out, hoping—praying, he was just watching tv in the living room like he did, on rare occasions. “Donut!” You yelled out a little louder, turning to grab your shirt off the floor and padded into the living room, but found it cold, quiet and empty.

You sighed, realizing Marshall had left. Turning, you went down the hall to the guest room bath and discovered the mirror was still foggy. Marshall would go there to take a shower, before he left, so he wouldn't wake you by using your master bathroom. Usually, when he showered at your place, it meant he was heading straight back into the station to work some more, without bothering to go home. You wondered how many hours your boyfriend had slept, before sneaking off into the night.

“Just one night, Walter Marshall.” You whimpered, stripping your shirt off as you headed to bed again. “That's all I ask of you. Stay one fucking night with me, without vanishing like some sort of ghost.” You sighed, crawling under the blankets.

Marshall scrubbed at his eyes, while trying to focus on the police report in front of him, Harper had given him a new case to work on. It was a double homicide with a few lead suspects, but no solid proof on which of them it could possibly be. He was hitting his wit's end, three shifts, with a four hour sleep between two of them, crashed out on the small couch in his office. He'd only spoken to you through text messages through that time. The two of you had tried to meet up for lunch, but one of his suspects had been hauled into the station and he had to cancel it, so he could interrogate them.

A soft knock sounded on his office door and Commissioner Harper popped in. “How's the case going?” He asked, depositing himself into a chair across from Marshall.

The Brit drew in a deep breath and let it out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That well, huh?” The older law enforcement officer chuckled. “When was the last time you went home?” He inquired, seeing the dark circles under Marshall's bloodshot blue eyes.

Marshall looked at his watch. “Nine hours ago, to shower.” He replied, shooting Harper a look.

“You need to head home.” Harper snorted, shaking his head. “Don't you have a new lady in your life?” He said, lifting a brow at Walter, critically. “You shouldn't be keeping hours at the station, like you were when you were a bachelor, Marshall. I'm sure it drives her fucking crazy.”

“I know.” Marshall sighed heavily, knowing Harper was right. “It does.”

You had scolded Marshall several times about working himself into the ground and not getting a proper night's sleep. He wasn't a bachelor anymore, preferring to be at the station, then sitting alone, in the deafening emptiness of his flat. He definitely was a husband in the middle of getting a divorce, where he'd rather work eighteen hour shifts, against the alternative of going home to another argument or silent treatment from his soon-to-be ex-wife and making his daughter's life a nightmare.

He had you now, and was still acting like he didn't.

“You're right.” He said, flipping the case file closed and locking it away in his desk. “I am going to take the rest of the day off.” He nodded, stretching to his feet.

“And tomorrow.” Harper added, giving Marshall a stern look.

Marshall stared at him for a long moment, before slowly nodding. “Tomorrow as well.” He conceded, grabbing his jacket from the hook at the back of his office door.

“Hey.” Harper paused, as he stepped out into the hall, turning back to Marshall. “Surprise her. Women love that stuff.” He smirked, giving him a teasing wink before heading off to his own office.

“Yeah.” Marshall nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip.

Thankfully, he knew you had the day off, which made surprising you all the easier to do.

Marshall stopped by his place first, taking a quick shower and changed. Washed up and freshly changed, Marshall went to a small floral shop to get a bouquet of your favorite flowers, then crossed town to your takeaway spot, ordering your favorite dish with something to hit your sweet tooth, before finally heading over to your flat.

Situating things in his hands, Marshall knocked on your door and waited for you to answer, his heart pounding for a reason he couldn't put his finger on. At least, until the door cracked open and you peeked out, then his pulse calmed.

“Hey, Sugar butt.” He grinned at you, enjoying the surprised expression on your face.

You swung the door open, excited to see Marshall. “What are you doing here, Donut? I thought you had to work!” You said, bouncing on your toes towards him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I got some sound advice, and I decided to take it.” He replied, bending his head to kiss the top of yours. “So, I have the rest of the day off, and was told I'm taking tomorrow off as well.” He told you, holding up the bag of food and your bouquet of flowers.

“There's no one else I want to spend it with.”

“What about Fae?” You asked, your tone teasing.

Marshall rolled his eyes at you. “I'm far too boring and uncool.” He huffed, shaking his head.

“Well, you're entertaining and cool enough for me, Donut.” You giggled, pulling him into your flat.

“Thank the heavens for that.” He smiled, letting you drag him inside and into the kitchen.

“What did you get me?” You asked, dying to know what he had in the takeaway bag.

“Things you eat.” Marshall smirked, side eyeing you. “Hey, hands off!” He chuckled, batting your hand away from the bag. “Go pour us something to drink, Sugar butt!” He said, popping you on the butt and kissed your neck.

“My sweet detective, you drank all your Rich & Rare whiskey, the last time you were here.” You informed him, giving him a gentle pat on the chest.

“Oh fuck, I did.” Marshall sighed, his shoulders slumping a little.

You smiled, moving around him to go into a cabinet. “Luckily for you, you have a very thoughtful partner.” You said, pulling down a bottle of the amber colored spirit. “Who noticed it and bought another bottle for you.”

Marshall turned around, cracking a smile at you. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face.

You nuzzled his hand for a moment, before answering. “You got shot.” You deadpanned.

“Right.” He nodded, taking the bottle from you, then turned back to the food, pulling it out and putting it on the counter, before taking down plates.

You took down glasses and set one of them next to the plates, before grabbing your chilled bottle of wine out of the refrigerator, wiggling your brows at Walter as he moved by you for the fridge himself. Winking at you, Marshall grabbed a black case from inside the freezer and turned back, smirking as he found you already nibbling on your food. Shaking his head, he set the case on the counter and opened it, before cracking the seal on the bottle of whiskey, pouring some into his glass.

“So, how was your day?” He asked, opening the case and lifting a brow in your direction.

“It's been good.” You answered, getting your takeaway on the plate. “Slept a whole extra hour and a half.” You snorted, smirking to yourself. “Took a bath, instead of a shower, which felt incredible, and started to catch up with all of the shows I'm behind on.”

“Sounds like a day off well spent.” Marshall nodded, pulling out a pair of small tongs and removed a medium sized, chilled, black whiskey stone that was nestled inside and placed it in his glass. “I hope mine goes as well.”

“Well, we can make that happen.” You told him, holding a fork out to him.

Marshall grinned at you, taking the fork. “Yeah, we can.”

The two of you took your food and drinks to the couch, finding something to watch together, while you ate. You smirked, however, watching your Donut doze on and off, his plate balanced on his knee. Setting your plate on the coffee table, you gently took his and set it beside yours, you grabbed his hand and coaxed him up to his feet.

“Mmm.” He grunted, responding to your nudges towards the bedroom.

“Ssshh.” You cooed back, not wanting him to stir from the soft doze he'd fallen into.

Getting him to your room, you lightly pushed him back, to sit on your bed, stifling your giggle at his 'umph' as he landed. Kneeling down, you untied the laces of his boots, biting your lip as you gingerly pulled them off, but Marshall barely stirred as they came free from his feet. You managed to get his shirt off, before laying him back on the bed and covering him up.

“Sleep tight, detective.” You whispered, stroking the curls off his forehead for a moment, listening to his deep and easy breathing.

Tip-toeing out of the room, you gathered up the hardly touched plates and wrapped them up, storing them away in the refrigerator for later on, carefully poured the remaining whiskey Marshall hadn't polished off into the bottle, rinsing the stones, slipping them back into their case and into the freezer. Rubbing your face, you stripped and crawled into bed with Marshall, snuggling in against his side with a smile, excited to be falling asleep with him, knowing there was a high likelihood he'd be there, when you woke up.

What you hadn't expected was how you woke up with Marshall.

You were too deeply asleep to even dream, comfortable and warm. It was pure heaven, that you were hardly aware of the loud bang, likely someone slamming a door shut or the lid of a dumpster being dropped; nothing that was significant enough to draw you from your slumber. Nothing, but the jolt and gasp beside you. You started to pull to the surface of consciousness, struggling to understand what was going on, before you felt a pair of abnormally strong tentacles wrap around your frame. Jerking you against something solid, the air was knocked out of your lungs. While you were dragged over the edge of the bed, your stomach clenched as you dropped to the floor, crying out at the force of the sudden stop.

Realization flooded you, feeling the huffing, puffing and mountainous body of Marshall move over you, one arm still crushing around your middle to pin you against him, one thick thigh wedged between yours. If you didn't know Walter as well as you did, you probably would have started screaming at the position he had you in.

But you knew him, and you knew there was something deeply wrong with your boyfriend. Even your nursing instincts were going off for something being out of place. Marshall was panting like a wounded animal, his nostrils flaring with each breath, every muscle in his body was rock hard and rigid, but he was trembling. His teeth were gritted, like he was in pain and his blue eyes were wide and on high alert, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

“Marshall?” You whispered, apprehensive to make a sound, almost afraid that he'd snap at you, but his arm only tightened, making you hiss and wiggle underneath him, but he only held you tighter. “All right.” You groaned, relaxing to rest your forehead against the carpet, taking a deep breath of relief when his arm eased against your stomach.

You racked your brain, he was a horror hardened Detective for the Manitoba police force, what could cause Marshall to react to this extreme? Could this be a flashback from Simon?

You took a deep breath, knowing you had to help Marshall out of this, to let him know he was in a safe place. You bit your lip, bracing yourself for whatever reaction he gave you. Wiggling your arm out from underneath of your body, ignoring his attempt to keep you still, you propped yourself up the best you could under his weight.

“Marshall.” You said, keeping your voice calm and as if nothing was wrong, reaching back to rest your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “It's all right, Walt. It's just a flashback.” You told him, pressing your head against his chest. “I'm all right. We're all right.” You reassured him, moving your hand to his neck, beginning to massage the tight muscles there.

“We're safe. There's nothing and no one here to harm us. I promise.”

“Unless, you look in my closet and notice the alarming ratio of scrub outfits to regular ones.” You said, making yourself giggle, hoping a light joke would cause a crack in the wall of his PTSD, since Marshall had always enjoyed your sense of humor.

But Walter didn't seem to react to any of it, though you didn't allow yourself to become discouraged.

“What can I do?” You cooed at him, wondering what was going through his mind. “Please, tell me how I can help you, Donut?”

Marshall abruptly stopped trembling against you and seemed to relax on top of you, but didn't move any farther. You took the win, patiently waiting to see if he made any further improvements. They took several more moments, with you still massaging his neck and just laying there with him, but Marshall finally seemed to regain some sense of himself.

“I'm sorry.” He mumbled, moving off of you at last.

You floundered for a moment, sitting up to rest your back against the side of your bed, unsure how to reply. “Mar-” You started, only to have him jump to his feet and storm into your en suite, slamming and locking the door behind him. “Okay.” You sighed, nodding curtly at the door. “You need space.” You said, to the air, then pulled yourself up and pulled on a pair of shorts shorts with a tank top.

Going out to the kitchen, you made yourself a cup of tea, pausing for a moment as you carried it out of the kitchen to fortify it with a small splash of Marshall's whiskey, before going to sit in the living room. You stared at the turn off tv, regarding your blurry reflection as you thought about what had happened in the bedroom with Marshall, then abruptly locked himself in the bathroom. The shower had turned on not long afterwards, making you suppose he was taking one to wake himself up and clear his head. You were still worried about him though, he had just turned into a statue after yanking you off the bed like that, forcing you to be still, like he was afraid something would happen, if either of you moved.

An hour and all your hot water later, Marshall emerged from your bedroom, his eyes pointed at the floor as he stood just passed the doorway. You set your empty cup on the coffee table and turned to look at him over the back of the couch, his wet curls were combed back off his forehead, making him look almost boyish.

“I'm sorry.” He mumbled again, folding his arms tightly over his chest, still refusing to look at you.

“I know you're sorry, Marshall.” You whispered back at him, your heart aching. “Please, sit down with me?” You begged, patting the cushion beside you.

Marshall lingered in place for a moment, before shuffling over to you and sitting down, arms still crossed. You stared at the circular and slightly puckered scar just below his collarbone, the purplish skin stood out in stark contrast to the pale skin of his chest, lightly hidden under the dark fur that covered his torso.

“I'm sorry, if I scared you.” Marshall elaborated more on his apology. “I also understand, if you don't want to see me anymore.” He added, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

“What?” You giggled, surprised. “Why would I break up with you, Marshall?”

He finally looked at you, brows creased like it was obvious. “Because of what just happened.” He growled, his jaw muscles flexing. “I could have hur-” His eyes searched you for any marks, an almost frantic look coming into them.

“You didn't hurt me, Walter.” You assured him. “You startled the hell out of me, with that wake up. You've caused me to be very concerned. But hurt me, you have not.”

“This time.” He mumbled, relaxing back into his broodiness.

“Tell me what happened, Donut.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “I know you had a flashback. Why? Was it because of Simon?”

Marshall sighed, bouncing his leg. “It wasn't Simon.” He replied, licking his lips. “Before I was a homicide detective, I was in the British Army, I served three tours.” He paused and regarded you, deciding it was time to give you everything.

“I met Angela after I finished boot camp. She was in London for a holiday. We hit it off, and started a long distance relationship. I went on my first tour and everything was reasonably fine. I rose through the ranks quickly through my tours, I initially intended to be career Army. But between the second tour and my last one, Angie got pregnant with Fae. Which complicated things. Angie didn't want to raise her away from her parents in Manitoba, she also didn't want me being in the British Army, since it meant I'd be stationed overseas, away from them and being deployed constantly.”

“That is quite the situation.” You nodded, folding your legs on the cushion.

“It was.” Marshall nodded, his eyes distant. “My second tour had been rough, it was the first time I was given command of a squad of men. We got through it and all my men got home. But that's when some of my PTSD started. Loud noises would make me start or put me on edge. It was my last deployment, when I didn't renew my contract, so I could move to Canada with Angie and Fae, that it went through the roof. My men and I got pinned down by a group of rebels and I ended up losing two of them, despite the effort to keep them alive.” He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing on an imaginary spot on the rug.

“Marshall?” You whispered, reaching out to rest your hand on his knee, feeling the muscle there jump slightly.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head, his gaze clearing. “That's when I started having reactive flashbacks, like tonight. At first, Angie took them in stride. I thought they'd be better if I was back in 'that environment', so I joined the Manitoba SWAT team, and it worked for a short time. But Angie worried that was just as dangerous as being in the Army and didn't want Fae losing me.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “She had a point. SWAT could be just as dangerous at times. Get a person in the corner, when they're desperate, it doesn't matter if you're in a war-zone. They'll do anything to get out of that spot. Including killing you.”

“So, what happened?” You asked, biting your lip.

“I transferred to homicide.” He chuckled, smirking like he couldn't believe it himself. “Anyway, over time, Angie couldn't take my flashbacks anymore and we slept in separate bedrooms for the last four years of our marriage. They were a catalyst for our divorce.” He admitted, pressing his lips together, pained. “She even used them to gain full custody of Fae. Like, I was some sort of danger to my own daughter.”

“I don't think you're dangerous, Marshall.” You confessed, moving closer to him.

Marshall huffed at you. “Yeah, that's because I won't allow myself to fall asleep around you.”

“This is why you ghost me after we've made love?” You asked, looking at him wide eyed.

“Yes.” He nodded, staring back at you. “I'm terrified of something like that happening and losing you because of it.” He barked, jerking a hand towards the bedroom. “That I'll have an episode and I'll hurt you or it's just too much baggage for you to take.”

“Oh, you sweet Donut.” You giggled at him, grinning. “When was the last time you even had a flashback, before tonight?”

“I don't know!” He barked, raking a hand through his damp hair. “Two or three years.”

“That's not bad!” You said, wrapping your arms around his. “And we made it through this one.”

“I don't want you to make it through them.” He whined at you, looking like a hurt puppy.

“Walter Donut Marshall, I helped you get through being shot.” You grinned at him, stubbornly. “I'm pretty darn sure, I can help you through more flashbacks. You're not going to scare me away. I'm not going to break up with you. I love you, you silly Detective.” You cupped his bearded face in your palms.

“Stop running away from me, let me love you, shadows and all.”

“I have some dark shadows.” He whispered, turning his head to kiss your hand.

“Don't we all, Donut? Don't we all!” You giggled, kissing him soundly on the mouth.

#Viking-Raider Fics #Henry Cavill #Walter Marshall #Marshall #Walter Marshall x Reader #Walter Marshall/Reader #Marshall x Reader #Marshall/Reader #Nomis #Night Hunter #Walter Marshall Fanfic #walter marshall fanfiction #Walter Marshall fandom #Smut #Fluff #PTSD #Soothing the Shadows *fic* #Soothing the Shadows #Henry Cavill fandom

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only! Sexual content, blood, death, questionable morals when Max is involved. Did I mention blood?

My masterlist

Pedro Pascal

Two years, six days and 8 hours ago, you walked into your boss’s office expecting to be fired. It’d only been a few months since you started, but the changeover was hectic, and standards of working slipped through the cracks. 

The fact this was your first corporate job didn’t help. They had hired you under the referral of your old roommate. The idea was a long shot, but you got the job. The hours were long, and the pay was shit, but you didn’t have to sweat your ass off or wear a name tag. 

Overall, being employed at Acla’s Pharmaceuticals wasn’t bad. 

Didn’t mean you wouldn’t get fired for forgetting a coma in paperwork, though. 

Which led to you being called to Max Phillips’ office. Your flats were rubbing against your heel as you walked. The smell of desperation and stale coffee clogged your nose, and, for the life of you, finding his office was impossible. 

The mental math of your budget and bills ran through your head at top speeds. Thoughts of ramen packets and macaroni and cheese blended with your cat’s brand of food. You could afford to feed yourself or your cat for the next three months and, let’s be real, your cat wins. 

Knocking on the door felt wrong. It echoed. 

Your stomach twisted when Mr. Phillips shouted for you to come in. 

It twisted again when you saw blood all over his desk, covering his tie and dripping from the pen in his hand. You wouldn’t say it looked like a massacre. That’d be extreme, but a solid murder was possible. 

Was the blood his? 

Did he mean to call janitorial and got you instead? 

Was that possible? You were in claims which, yes, sucked, but wasn’t near the cleaning crew was it? 

(Not that anything’s wrong with the cleaning crew. You simply hated vacuuming and there seems to be carpet in a lot of places here.) 

Max smiled when he noticed you. 

“Ah, there you are.” The blood dripped off the pen, splattering over paperwork. 

“Um, you needed me Mr. Phillips?”

His smile tilted as he shook his head. “Please, call me Max.” 

“Sorry Mr-.” You paused, “Uh, Max.” 

He rose to his feet, the tie swinging across his white shirt. When you glanced down at it, he followed your gaze and huffed out a laugh. 

“Yes,” He dabbed the tie with his fingers, “You must be wondering why I asked for you.” 

That’s an understatement. 

Did he need an alibi? 

Could you be an alibi? How long were you at work? 

“I was talking to Janet, your office manager. She says quite a few things about you.” His smile widened. “All good things, of course. One thing she mentioned really stuck out. You were a medic, right?” 

You’re not sure if a medic could handle this. How many bandaids did he need?

“Uh,” You tried to look away from the bloody handprint he left when he stepped around the desk, “Not really. I trained in phlebotomy, but had to quit when my sister got sick.” 

Another smile, all teeth, “You worked with blood though, right?” 

“That’s the whole point of phlebotomy.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

Max’s smile faded, dripping with blood. He rounded the desk to lean against it, his arms crossed, the red under his fingernails left marks on his suit. 

You were getting fired and, possibly, blamed for murdering someone. 

When Max burst into laughter, it startled you. “Ah, excellent, a sense of humor. That’s what we like around here, Sugar. People who can dish out as good as they get. Did you know Patrick Chambers in HR once did a standup routine for the Christmas party? Guy has the laughs.” 

“I bet.” Jesus, shut up. 

Max clapped his hands together. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d help me with something.” 

When he pushed away from the desk, his foot kicked out, dragging your gaze down and- “That’s a head.” 

“Yes, it is, and you, Sugar, are going to help me keep that from happening.” Once more he smiled, canines extended.

“I’m not being fired?” 

Max winked. “Promoted more like it.” 

Two years, 6 days and 9 hours ago they handed you an NDA with a contract to help Max attain blood donations without killing (sometimes) people. 

(He still killed people, you learned, but only when they didn’t meet their quarterly goals) 

Since that day, you’ve spent hours on end in the man’s office with bags of blood being loaded into a built in cooler. Max wanted to throw them in all at once, but the blood was fragile. You had to make sure they stayed hanging and didn’t congeal before you could store them. Max had a penchant for B+ which meant you had to organize the other types as backups. 

Now and then you got stuck sitting in the office's corner as he held a stranger against the desk and bit down. 

“Nothing beats the fresh stuff, Sugar.” He’d aim a finger gun at you.

“You’re going to run out of suits if you keep it up on the clock.” You’d slip his dry cleaning receipt towards him. 

He’d given you three days off a week. Those three days you lived by a schedule of importance. 

Grocery shopping (vegetarian meals don’t last long) 

Bills (Max pays you a pretty penny) 

Therapy

Therapy is important. 

You’d been worried about the mental trauma you experienced every day working for Max. What gets brought up the most is your inability to form proper boundaries. 

“Your boss expects a lot of you.” Kathryn hums, her eyes focused on yours. 

“The vacation days are wonderful.” They really are. You could take your sister and three friends to San Diego last year for a week and afford to splurge your heart’s content. 

Sometimes, when you’re sitting across from your therapist you think about walking into Max’s office and finding another dead body. You think about the blood covering his suit, coating his hair, the way the air had a copper taste to it. It’d cross your mind faster than a hamster wheel and you always had the same reaction.

Indifference. 

Which, honestly, isn’t a surprise to you. 

You say it’s amazing compartmentalization skills. Kathryn says it’s deeply rooted repression. 

Tomato, tomahto. 

All that being said, nothing would have prepared you to walk into Max’s office on this day. Your bag is heavy over your shoulder with newly bagged blood. The door opened with a squeak, reminding you to ask Hamish for some WD-40. Looking up at the hinges distracts you from the noise. 

The squelch behind your head sounding like Max draining his last baggie. 

Your mind focused intently on what needed to be refilled that it took a solid thirty seconds for you to realize what was happening. 

The flex of Max’s ass, the sharp smack of hips against hips and the muffled moans of the woman he had bent over the desk. The same tie he’d wore the day you thought he’d fire you shoved into her mouth. 

Max had his hand circling her wrist, his other hand pinning her down. 

It wasn’t the blatant and unprofessional display of sex that had your mind reeling. 

It was how good Max looked, his mouth covered in blood, trails of it following the line of his chest. He tossed his jacket and left his shirt open. His slacks pooled around his ankles and you could see the tense hold of his thighs. 

There was blood running from the woman’s neck, her chest, her legs. Max had it on his fingers, caked beneath his nails. 

The first thought that bubbled to the surface and made its way out of your mouth stunned you. “Did you finish the Carpelix file first? 

You rarely remembered the name of the new blood pressure drug. 

Unless it involved your boss’s ass, you guess. 

The woman turned her head before Max did. Her eyes half lidded, spit drowning the tie. She had a pale hue to her skin, the pallor striking next to the dark wooden desk. 

She muffled something around the tie which had Max looking over his shoulder at you. 

“You’re back early.” He fucked into her, hard, jarring the desk that held them up. 

“Traffic was light.” With that, you walked towards the cooler. 

There was only one baggie left like you expected. An O negative, his least favorite. You tried not to stock up too much on O blood types. Sometimes you didn’t get lucky enough to wrangle A or B types and Max could suck it up. Literally. 

“Did you stop for bagels?” He sounded closer. You glanced back and shook your head as he buttoned up his pants. 

The woman was squirming, her hands slipping in the blood as she lifted herself up. You raised a brow at Max who looked down at the woman and frowned. 

“Regina,” He pulled her up, “You’ve met before, right?” He waved a hand towards you, the other circling her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. 

The woman, Regina, squinted at you. “I don’t know.” 

You squinted yourself, looking closer as Max slid his hand up her side. He cupped her breast his thumb brushing her nipple, and she shivered.

Max tilted her chin to the side, aiming her full gaze at you. 

“Regina Mallord.” You rolled your eyes. “She rear-ended my car a few months ago.” 

He smiled, “Did she?” 

Regina was whining as Max played with her, his fingers moving across her chest, over her nipples and back. She squirmed in his hold as blood dripped down her neck. Some of it dried around her collar bone, fingerprints marking through the path. 

“If I remember correctly,” Max murmured, “Your car was in the shop for a week, right? If I also remember, you had to Uber to work.”

You rolled your eyes again, “Yes, Max. You complained about me being late for a week straight — I wasn’t late. You’re just impatient in the mornings.” 

He nips at Regina’s ear. “I really am.” There’s a moment, a single moment, where your eyes meet. 

Max winks again, slowly, his mouth stretching as his face contorts, brow scrunching. The veins along his temples darkened before he opens his mouth wide and rips Regina’s throat out. 

Both of you watch her body hit the floor with a wet crash. 

You sigh, “What was the point of that?”

Max nudges her arm with his foot, stepping over her to move closer to you. “She was in the break room when I went to clean my cup.” 

“So, you decided to fuck her then kill her?” 

He reached out, his finger tracing the line of your jaw, “I planned on only killing her, but I got a bit rowdy.” 

You swiped his hand away. “A bit?” 

Max stepped closer, leaning against the cooler, his hand coming back up to touch your necklace. “I saw her car yesterday. I recognized it from you showing me the cameras. You had to pay almost 3000 to get your car fixed.” 

“Yeah,” You didn’t swipe him away this time, let him drag a path from your neck to your jaw, “That’s what I get for forgetting to re-up my insurance.” 

Max quirked a brow. “You’re a treasure, Sugar.” 

“You say that because I don’t question,” You directed your gaze at Regina’s body, “that.” 

“Hmm, yeah.” He leaned closer, “but also because you make my day a little better.”

A spike of pleasure shot down your spine, heat curling in your belly. Max’s eyes were deep pools that crinkled when he smiled. There was an innocence to them, a puppy dog look that made it hard to tell him no. 

It’s worse when he tilts his lips into a smile and aims his attention at you. 

You’d blame it on his hypnosis abilities, but you knew the truth — Max Phillips is a gorgeous son of a bitch. People rotate between wanting to stake him in the heart or suck his dick. 

Right now, you want to do both. 

Mostly the dick part. 

The other would spill more blood and Jeffery will have a hell of a time as is. 

“Sugar,” He drew your attention back to him, “How about I take you for dinner tonight?” 

You sigh, “Max,” His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, “It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah?” Another look at your lips. His tongue darts out to lick away the blood at the corner of his mouth. 

“Tomorrow is the corporate meeting.” Max frowns. 

“That’s not until July.” 

“Max,” His mouth flattens, “It is July.” 

The kiss was tangy, his lips sliding along yours. His tongue taste of blood, coffee, and something else. Something deeper. It tastes of Max. 

“Sugar,” He whispers when he pulls back, “Let me take you to dinner. It’s the least I could do for all that you do.” 

“Max.” 

“I love hearing you say my name.” He kissed you again. This kiss was deeper, harder his arm circling your waist to press you to his chest. 

What does it say about you that this was the best kiss you’ve ever had? Having Max Phillips groaning into your mouth, his fingers digging into your hip. You can feel the shift of his legs as he turned you around to press against the wall. 

The way his body fits against yours makes your knees weak. 

Your mind reeled, making you dizzy headed as he nipped at your jaw, down your neck. It was heady, heavy, the air thick around you. 

Your eyes fell on Regina’s dead body, and the kissing stopped. 

“Max.” He buries his face in your neck, “Max.” You push at his shoulder. 

He sighs, “Yes?” 

You aim your gaze at the corpse. “She’s staining the carpet.” 

Max barks out a laugh loud enough that it startles you. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, yeah? For now, you mind calling the cleaning staff and make sure Jeffery brings more than one bag.” 

Two years, 6 days and 10 hours since you thought you were going to be fired, and you had a date with your boss and call for a body clean up. 

Yay.

I have a whole thing with Max killing people for reader 🤨

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character

[floofanflurr]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @sneakyfox55! I don't normally do tag games, but this one looks really fun. (What author doesn't want the chance to ramble about their writing?) (This one is also copy/paste, so I'm less worried about clogging up people's dashes)

I'm going to put it under a cut since this is pretty long!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

As of now? 9! (But I have more than 35 fics in progress in my drafts that aren't posted.)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

129,647! But like, triple that (or more) if you want to count unposted stuff.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Undertale!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Heart on the Table

2. How to Defeat a Human in 6 Easy Steps

3. faux pas

4. How to Comfort a Panicking Child

5. How to Help a Human in 2 Easy Steps

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes!!! I love responding!!! I'm behind horribly right now because of my work's busy season, but I plan to catch back up! It's so fun to get to talk to people about the things I've poured my heart and soul into, you know? And I'm always glad to get to thank the people that took the time to leave a comment! It's a bit hard to keep up sometimes, though.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

"Is it Home Without You?" definitely. I'm still really proud of that fic, and it's part of a series with a happy ending, but the actual oneshot is the immediate aftermath of Gaster's lab accident from Sans's PoV. So, uh. Dead dad that no one but you remembers (not even your little brother) is pretty angsty. It's a step away from the norm for me, since normally I only write things with happy endings. But since this is part of a series that has a happy ending, I suppose my brain allowed me to end it off on a bittersweet (sad and angsty) note.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is really hard to say! I like big, happy endings, so most of my stuff gets them! Probably.... Hmmm. Either faux paus or How to Defeat a Human in 6 Easy Steps

8. Do you get hate on fics?

For the most part? No. (And I will always be grateful for the kind people that have picked me back up after I've been shot down in the past.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

None you'll ever find under this username! I try to keep it family friendly here. ...Welllll, depending on if you count fics that tackle trauma and child murder in them family friendly.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't written any cross fandom crossovers! ...I have, however, been guilty of writing cross fic crossovers (none posted). I like to make my characters from different fics interact with each other. I've also done some crossovers for fun with my friends, making our characters interact. All still Undertale fandom, though! The craziest one is probably "How to Adopt an Interdimensional Traveler" which may be posted at some point. It's a crossover between Heart on the Table, and my How To: series. What, you're telling me Papyrus has TWO children to deal with now? (Here, have the first little bit of that because I love it. And I love Papyrus.)

Step One: Find out their name “FRISK!” Papyrus’s voice was not a shriek. No. He was perfectly composed as he stared down at the… little Frisk in front of him.  The very little Frisk. There was a familiar thumping behind him as… his Frisk crashed down the stairs in their familiar clumsy way. For all the elegance they displayed in battle, that did not tend to follow them home. He partially whirled around to face them, keeping… mini Frisk in his sight at the same time.  “What’s up, Dad?” Mini Frisk made a small noise that may have been confusion as they rapidly looked between him and their larger counterpart. “…Dad?” Oh.  Hm.  Yes.  That was. A thing. Apparently Papyrus had two children now. 

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know! And I sure hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! That would be cool as heck, though!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

None that are posted! But I like to write with my friends, sometimes.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Surprisingly! Not Undertale! (Though I do like Alphyne!) Zukka! (Zuko x Sokka, Avatar the Last Airbender) I've loved that ship for years, and even though I'm not really in the AtLA fandom anymore, it still has a very close place in my heart.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmmmm. Again, nothing posted. I don't post fics unless they have a first draft completely written to prevent that kind of thing. (Though, I do rewrite stuff, and that can cause pretty big posting delays. But if for some reason I can't find the motivation to finish my rewrites, I could always just slap my first draft up so that it's not completely unfinished before I'd abandon it completely.) Of my fics not posted, though? I've got a fic called "Ghost of You" which is a fated soulmate dusttale!papyrusXreader fic. I hope I can finish it one day, but... well. I'm not sure if I will or not.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterization, and internal dialogue, I think! I like to think I'm pretty good at writing a character in such a way that even if you pick just a sentence at random, you know who's head you're in. Or, perhaps my strength is hurt/comfort in general...

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

It used to be dialogue, though I'm working to get better at that! I also struggle sometimes when it comes to making sure that the pace is engaging and that we aren't just stuck in someone's internal thoughts for 5 paragraphs. Gotta break that up with some stuff actually happening!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Very cool, and a great way to show characters that speak other languages than the one you are in the PoV of!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Well... the fic itself is long gone, but! I wrote for Ouran Highschool Host Club when I was like 12.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

DON'T MAKE ME CHOOSE! HOW COULD YOU ASK ME TO CHOOSE BETWEEN MY CHILDREN? MY BABIES! ...Heart on the Table has a special place in my heart though.

No pressure tags (only if you want! this is just for fun!): @lizavet @timeofjuly @humankk and anyone that wants to!

Also... Shall I dare? invoke the potential wrath of a god(ess)?

I dare. I'm curious about the answers (if the goddess does deign to answer this mortal/jk) @llamagoddessofficial (please feel free to just ignore if you want!)

#floof talks

[jdeanmorgan]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by the lovely @ex0rin mwah

How many works do you have on ao3?

currently, 32.

What's your total ao3 word count?

currently, it's 232,045

What fandoms do you write for?

the walking dead, 911 and supernatural

Top five fics by kudos:

soaking in his sin (buddie, 911) blood on my shirt (heart in my hands) (buddie, 911) Get Down, Make Love (buckbobby, 911) blow for a job (buckbobby, 911) I let you fuck away my pain (make it come back) (cegan, twd)

Do you respond to comments?

rarely. I always appreciate comments, like, i always get so giddy and happy when I receive one, but there's only so many ways I can say thank you, you know? and I don't wanna clog up the comments with just thank yous. but i try to respond if i feel like i have a good response to offer.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm actually not sure... this was on another account but maybe it's don't say you love me but i never really use this account anymore so if we're talking my current account it might be nothing's gonna bring us down (for new years) since its like sad but open/hopeful ending.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uhhh. i'm not sure actually. maybe behind closed doors ??? like i genuinely have no idea

Do you get hate on fics?

rarely, yeah.

Do you write smut?

yes.

Craziest crossover:

good enough to make you grow (where negan from the twd has a three some with eddie and buck from 911.)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

Have you ever had a fic translated?

i think yes? but normally i say no.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes but it's not published.

All time favorite ship?

it changes with each brainrot honestly. right now? cegan. hands down. but there's also been other ships that i've loved.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

another one on my previous account called sour times. i just got some comments on it that i hated and i lost interest in it. i still had fun writing it but yeah it just does not feel like i want to finish it at all and i've honestly been debating deleting it but then i don't bc what if some readers like it enough to reread? so i just leave it like that.

What are your writing strengths?

i'm not too sure. i think maybe dialogue??? not sure though, i try not to think too hard about that.

What are your writing weaknesses?

its hard for me to figure out pacing. and smut is so hard for me it always takes me ages to write one smut scene compared to other stuff.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

not a fan, but also i don't really care.

First fandom you wrote in?

it was glee. those fics are out there. but i pretend they're not bc i was 15 and they're cringy as fuck.

Favorite fic you've written?

right now it's blood on my shirt (heart in my hands) (911, buddie)

i shall tag: @duchessonfire @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @tawaifeddiediaz @usereddie @wh0re-behavi0r & whoever else wants to do it.

#tag thing #my fics

[fixfoxnox]

I have no problem with dead roach fics, but for the love of GOD be original with his death and have it actually mean something, most of the time fics are “that’s one less loose end” esque and just have Ghost survive bc reasons, or his death doesn’t actually contribute to the story long term, like it impacts the first 3 chapters and then dissapears

Activision come on, bring our big boy, GIVE US SOME FOOD

I have many problems with dead Roach fics, but my two biggest one are:

1. They are almost always tagged wrong.

If Roach is dead the entire fic and only mentioned or in like a brief flashback, he should not be tagged as a character. I'm sorry, but if he's dead, he isn't a character in your fic! He's not there! Tagging him as a character just means that you're clogging up his tag with fics that don't actually have him in them!

A lot of authors also tag their dead Roach fics with GhostRoach when, again, Roach is dead! There is not going to be any GhostRoach outside of like mentioning it. The ship should not be tagged! If I'm in the GhostRoach tag, I'm there to read GhostRoach, not stupid SoapGhost bullshit that kills my favorite character and uses his death as a shitty plot device. Don't tag GhostRoach if the fic isn't about them!!

2. A vast majority of dead Roach fics use him just to create drama in the SoapGhost relationship.

His death serves no meaning beyond being an obstacle to GhostSoap. They treat Roach like a villain who is somehow at fault for Soap dating a man who is very clearly still grieving and Ghost dating despite the fact that he clearly isn't ready. Its stupid, the relationship is never healthy, and Roach is always somehow a bad guy for being dead!

The people who write these clearly don't give a shit about Roach and only want to use him to create drama rather than just making an oc or some shit. And these are the same mfers who will claim that Roach is one of their favs, the fucking bullshit he is. Its frustrating and its only made more prevalent by the first point!! THEY KEEP PUTTING IT IN THE WRONG TAGS!!

Ignoring all the other shit that I think is stupid about the trope such as Ghost somehow being alive despite a loose ends situation happening (yeah, sure, cause Ghost who was shot in the neck and fucking killed instantly would have survived instead of Roach who was alive at least long enough to see the fire burning AND to attempt to stop Shepherd from getting the DSM. All after being blown up AND shot. Sure, Ghost would have survived but not Roach) or the absolute damage that it does to the characterization of characters like Soap and the relationship that Soap had with Roach in the OG games or the absolute unoriginality of it or the fact that tagging the fic GhostRoach seems like a passive aggressive way to shit on the ship or the fact that these people somehow write the most toxic shit known to man then call it romance or the way that the rope has been so overdone its fucking burnt (if one of you tags some joke about Ghost and Roach?? Its a block /j)

Ignoring all that other shit plus some, my biggest problem with the trope is the improper tagging. Because it wouldn't be a big deal to me if I never had to see it because people would tag their fics correctly. But people never do, so I have to see their shitty dead Roach fics, so I will continue to complain about their shitty dead Roach fics.

BTW this is no hate to anything you said, I also agree with what you said I just wanted to use your ask to rant because I like to rant and I like to shit on this trope and its been a while since I've gotten to do either.

Now, as usual:

Activision bring Roach back, GhostRoachSoap best ship, fuck the dead Roach trope I hope it fucking burns, and Roach I'm your biggest fan

#thoughts with luke #you asked luke #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostroach

[stranded-labyrinth]

Hi, I find you terrifying to interact with but you're my favorite person on all of tumblr and I love your Hannibal content more than I love to breathe

would you be willing to recommend some hannigram fics you like? I adore everything you write about them, but that also means I read and re-read all of it many times so I wanted to check if maybe you'd share some recs

thank you and I love you're brilliant

first off, i love you SO much for this, and second, i'd be more than happy to provide fic recs!! it's been a while since my last list, so let me go through my bookmarks again :]

Kindness, I Suppose by McRibFarewellTour

"Disturbed by the way his manipulations have panned out, Will decides to abjure both Hannibal's plan and Jack's and invents one of his own. Deep conversations, torturing Hannibal with low-class accommodations, and Will hyperfixating on the history of New Orleans, all with the well-loved backdrop of a forced road trip."

i actually was just finishing this one as i went to answer your ask, and oh my god, i am in love with this fic. McRibFarewellTour is a fairly new AO3 author, but i've loved everything they've made

You're Looking Like I Feel by McRibFarewellTour

"Will’s been out of prison for a week, and Hannibal still hasn’t heard from him. Needless to say, he does not find this acceptable and decides to take action."

one of the best depictions of Will having a perfect idea for revenge on Hannibal that i've seen yet. it combines ideas we've all had for the best way for him to truly hurt Hannibal, with something new that i haven't seen from anything else yet. heed the tags!

That Which Has Been Ignored by virtuous_contract

"Behind him, Hannibal’s breathing is barely audible. Always so damn composed. Or perhaps Hannibal is really asleep? Perhaps the touch is only accidental? It’s the soft pad of a thumb on the back of his neck and the tips of loosely curled fingers stirring his curls more than resting against his skin. Shouldn’t he hate it? Or at the very least, fear it? Deep down he feels something else entirely. Relief of some undefined kind that he fiercely pushes away and refuses to acknowledge. It’s too embarrassing. He can’t be that person. Can’t be that weak."

a delightful touch-starved and maybe even shy post-fall Will on the run with Hannibal, going from hotel to hotel. lots of pining. i shan't say more, just know it's currently one of my favorite one shots.

to swallow smoke by ghostforwhat

"After all that, he had just needed a little release. A quick stop at a gas station on the way here had easily produced what he was searching for; a soft pack of cigarettes now bulging in his shirt pocket, hidden from the downpour as he ducks under the small awning over the office door."

how could i not include this one? part one already had me romanticizing things i should likely never romanticize, and part two extended that tenfold. it's something you need to experience. if you don't fare well with smut, at least read part one.

oh, to be the life and soul will be the death of me by Serindrana

huge fic description that's a passage from the fic, but this is essentially a one shot that combines mutual pining with Will discovering that Hannibal is indeed The Chesapeake Ripper...in the middle of one of Hannibal's dinner parties.

to the victor go the spoils by zipegs

8.9k word smut one shot that follows a dinner at Hannibal's between him, Alana, and Will, in which Alana leaves when she can no longer abide the tension. a very bitter Will ends up taking things in quite some direction, using a very particular sort of power in lieu of revenge, while also ensnaring himself in the very net he attempts to catch Hannibal in.

Small Repairs by Devereauxs_Disease

"It started with a clogged drain. Will put himself in a position to rescue Hannibal's dinner party, hoping to ingratiate himself to the good doctor as he gathered evidence. What he didn't anticipate was how much fun it was to fix things for Hannibal Lecter. In return, Hannibal offered to act as a cooking tutor for Will Graham, talking him through making dinner nearly every night. Are small home repairs really enough to fix what's been broken between these two?"

as always, i love their work. there's a particular scene i love near the end that i won't spoil, but i'll say that it has to do with Will having a very particular way to notice Hannibal's vulnerability, even from afar :]

A Sepulchre in This Kingdom by petrodactyl352

"The first time Hannibal meets Death, he is eight years old."

how could i not include the fic based on my own prompt? a delightful gift <3 i'm still obsessed with this concept even now

Hidden Potential by sourweather

"The first time you make eye contact with your soul mate, you see a vision of their greatest accomplishment. They call it your Peak. Unfortunately for Will Graham, his soul mate's Peak is a vision of blood and horror. Fortunately for Hannibal Lecter, his soul mate's is too."

a very particular kind of soulmate AU, and i was on the edge of my seat nearly every chapter wanting to see where everything would go. as usual, sourweather does NOT disappoint :]

touch me, i'm cold (unable to control) by Naomi_Riddle

"Dr. Hannibal Lecter lacks nothing. He’s definitely not lonely, and he’s certainly not touch-starved. And he absolutely, positively doesn’t have a thing for Will Graham. So when Abigail Hobbs is discharged from the Port Haven Psychiatric Facility, he suggests that she should move in with him - and so should Will. It’s only fair, as they’re both her legal guardians. A domestic, fluffy little fic of touch-starved down bad Hannibal Lecter, oblivious Will Graham, and sassy Abigail Hobbs who conspires to get her gay dads together. Featuring Winston and Company."

this one is still ongoing, and it's the one i look forward to the absolute most currently when it comes to fics updating. i've seen mutual pining domestic vibes with these two, obviously, but placing it so early on and including the adoption of Abigail just scratches an itch i didn't know i had in my brain.

and with that, i think i've met where i ended off last time i recommended stuff from my bookmarks :] hope you enjoy!

[adaleim]

Okay so for anyone visiting my blog and anyone who already follows me but hates my car posts: I'm making a tag specifically for Super PiPi updates! [#super pipi] I'll post some general crap about him under the cut so I don't clog my main page in case that's not why you're here.

Pipi is my 1986 Honda Accord DX I bought off a guy on Facebook for like 1800$. I had the cash because I was saving up for a ring for my husband and he didn't want me spending the money but uh, I wanted to spend it anyway? This car was DOA when I towed him home. His engine is the carbureted type, and it was flooding so bad the gasoline was going up into the air filter and out the top, into the crankcase, all over everywhere. So naturally, my first project was to rebuild the carb, and IT WORKED.

After that, it started and ran, but ran poorly, and I had to start working like 6 days a week. I managed to get it started one day and took him to get some fresh gas, and my boyfriend got so damn worried for nothing lmao.

Now that I have more time to hunt down problems, I can actually start making progress! Hope y'all enjoy be bringing this cute thing back from the dead.

#super pipi #my car #my baby #intro post

[greyeyedmonster-18]

hello dr grey <3 feel free to ignore/not publish but i was wondering if it’s possible to get a snippet of ‘tight ends’ with james and sirius? 🙈 i was super excited to read the fic (me! for wolfstar!! can u believe it?) but i totally understand shelving stuff ur unhappy w it so i was hoping to get a lil peek into my fav boys instead lol. u already know i love how u write them.

oh for you, miss padfootastic? anything. (also i went to post this and realized i....don't use dialogue tags for them, so have fun).

“Mom’s making dinner for us. It’s Sunday.”

“You can go without me.”

“She will drive herself here and drag to the table by your ear if you don’t come, Sirius.” James said, “And as much as I would love to see that, we skipped last week, two weeks in a row might be….”

“I know, I know…” Remus heard Sirius mumble softly from his spot in the hall, “I just would rather--”

“Stay here with Lupin in your bed?”

“No.”

“Stay here and wait for him to wake up and then drive him home?”

“I do one nice thing and--”

“It was very nice, I was going to offer my bed if you didn’t. Though, impressed he can hold his liquor against Longbottom.”

“Not a bad shot either….”

“You were watching?”

“If you’re trying to make a point, wrap it up.”

“You’re going to drive him home, aren’t you?”

“No, I’ll him sit in the basket of your bike, and you can take him.”

“Good workout,” James said and Remus could hear that teasing smile in his voice, “It’s okay to say that you don’t actually hate him…”

“I never said I did hate him.”

“It also wouldn’t kill you to, I don’t know, answer a few of his questions, since you obviously care enough about him to let him have your bed…”

“Anything else, Dr. Potter?”

“Please, that’s my mother.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “I just didn’t want him in a lyft, okay? He was drunk off his ass, I did a nice thing….”

“Mhmm. I know.”

“Wipe that fucking grin off your face, I swear.”

“Oooooh, so scary.”

“What time do we need to be at Mom’s?”

“Leave at four.” 

“Alright.”

“And if she asks we absolutely did not work out this morning after the game when Coach Hooch told us both to take it easy.”

“I’ve never worked out a day in my life, babe.” Sirius finished and Remus waited a few moments, listening to the opening and closing of drawers and clattering of silverware before entering. 

“Sleeping beauty!” James exclaimed when he saw Remus, Remus immediately wincing at the volume of the other boys voice, smiling weakly, “Oh, sorry, I should whisper--sleeping beauty. You live!” 

“Barely,” Remus mumbled, walking further into the kitchen of the apartment that looked much different in the morning light when it was just Sirius and James and…” Eggs?”

“Good for hangovers,” Sirius shrugged.

“No, I know that…bit. I…didn’t think either of you would cook,” Remus said, pulling up a seat at the counter next to James who looked far too well-rested and happy to be awake, and far too fit to be in Remus’s eyeline when felt like he had just been run over by a truck. Both of them had clearly just finished some sort of workout, by their conversation Remus had overheard and by their appearance, James sitting in the kitchen in only a pair of compression shorts, a light sheen of sweat over his stomach muscles. Sirius had at least bothered to put a shirt and exercise shorts on…..

“Mom taught us both, but I’m much better at other house duties,” James told Remus.

“Ah, and what are those, exactly?”

“Taking out the trash….talking with our land lady when the sink clogs again, reminding you to call home, that kind of stuff.”

“Hm,” Sirius said, half smile on his face as he set two plates on the counter. Eggs with some toast, and half an avocado, “Eat, you’ll feel better.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” James said, picking up his fork eagerly

#asks #grey answers #on tight ends and wide receivers

[epickiya722]

Okay, lately, I haven't had to block anybody for it until now, but if you just so happen to not like Bakugou...

Don't follow me. Don't even reblog from me.

He's not my #1, but I damn sure ain't going to tolerate the hate.

I do be checking blogs out and if I see anti Bakugou posts, I do block.

Eight years BNHA has been running and still till this day people want to clog up main tags with their hate. They still want to create whole blogs dedicated to hating on a single character and make it their whole personality. They still want to send hate messages or reblog posts to be bitter assholes.

Frankly, I'm tired of it. And even if you don't do that and you hate Bakugou, I'm still blocking because I rather not take that chance.

Not saying you can't hate Bakugou, go ahead and do so. I don't care. I have characters I don't practically like either. But unlike some people, I don't go out my way to be an ass about them.

I'm just not a negative person, and I rather spend that time reading and writing fanfiction and reblogging fanart.

I just don't see the point of going beyond to express hate like that over a character.

Sure, post about it. We all need to complain from time to time.

It's the excessive posting and not properly tagging I don't like. It's the reblogging other posts to debate about Bakugou I don't like. It's the reading a clearly tagged fanfiction and going into the comment sections to express your hate I don't like.

That, all of that is what I hate.

Again, you can hate him, fine. Whatever. I'm not going to change your mind because I would be just wasting my time if I try to, so what's the point?

If you don't like Bakugou, don't come near my blog.

And if you happen to still choose to follow me and hate Bakugou, I hope you have his tags blocked and keep your hate to yourself.

I don't need you to PM me or come into my inbox with any reasons as to why you hate Bakugou and then go on to say something to "be nice".

"I still think you're cool so I'm still following you" or anything along those lines. Don't even go "well, I hate Bakugou but I don't bother people about him".

Congrats for having some respect then, but you ain't winning brownie points from me. You don't need to be praised for doing something decent. Just continue being that way, not bothering anyone and properly tagging your posts. That's how you're helping the fandom be somewhat more tolerable.

Oh, he ain't the other one I will block you over.

So again, if you hate Bakugou, just skip over my blog. You can be a bigger Miruko fan than me, I'm still don't want you interacting with me in any way.

People be acting like he's the worst character in existence and it's super played out to me.

#just kiya's thoughts #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #kacchan #🧡💣💥