3

Well, it’s a long way out to reach the sea
But I’m sure i’ll find you waiting there for me
And by the time I blink, I’ll see your wild arms swinging
Just to meet me in the middle of the road
And you’ll hold me like you’ll never let me go
And beside the salty water, I could hold you close
But you are far too beautiful to love me

 The Oh Hellos - In Memoriam

Based on Shivers of Oaks by SouthernBird on AO3

Power of Danny Zuko | p.p

Originally posted by foreverthe80s

Pairing: Reader x Peter Parker 

Summary: It’s costume day at Midtown High. You and Peter coincidentally dress up as characters from the same movie, which sparks rumors among the students. 

Warnings: none! i didn’t proofread

A/N: requested by @chemiste ! Thank you for requesting. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you like it 👻


PETER PARKER WAS THE EPITOME of a film nerd. He had seen about every movie and TV show; at least the classics, anyway. If you needed a pop-culture reference, Peter was your go-to guy. His best friend, Ned, would happily watch the movies leaning toward science fiction, but if horror movies were brought up - forget it. He would be out of there faster than Peter could stop him. His wide knowledge of old school movies was mostly due to his Aunt May. More often than not, the two of them would sit together on the couch, watching a movie while eating whatever take-out May had picked for the night. She was the reason why he had seen Footloose twice; both the original from the 1980s and the remake from 2011. 

So, when Midtown announced a costume day for Halloween, Peter immediately knew he wanted his costume to be related to the film world somehow. When Aunt May had chosen to watch Grease while they ate their Thai food, Peter found his costume of choice. Envious of Danny Zuko’s radiating confidence, Peter hoped that if he dressed up as the tough greaser, he would have the courage to talk to his long-time crush. The following day, he begged May to come with him to find the pieces he would need to put the whole outfit together. Pleasantly surprised at her nephew’s choice, she had happily agreed, deciding that she could spare a few dollars to buy him a pair of black jeans and boots. Luckily for them, she had an old leather jacket hanging around in her closet somewhere. 

“Stand still,” May scolded, pursing her lips in concentration while combing Peter’s hair. There were more styling products in his hair now than he had used his entire life, but he had to admit that it made him look so much more like a badass - and not the kind of badass he felt like when he was doing his duties as Spider-Man. 

A series of knocks echoed throughout their Queens apartment and Peter knew his best friend was there to walk with him to school. Catching his aunt staring at him in the mirror, and he returned her smile, taking one last glance at his reflection. For once he felt cool; he felt like one of the popular guys at school and he couldn’t even begin to imagine the look on Flash’s face when he saw him. Making sure his suit was tucked away safely, he snatched his backpack from the floor of his room. Aunt May’s leather jacket was hanging off the back of the chair in the kitchen, and Peter threw it on, the stiff leather only adding more coolness points to his outfit. He was headed for the door when the realization hit him, and he rushed back to his aunt, pulling her into a hug and thanking her. She ushered him off, almost more anxious for Peter to talk to Y/N than he was himself. 

Peter’s confidence only grew on their journey to Midtown that morning. Girls on the street would throw him not-so-secret glances and a guy at the subway had complimented him, telling him how all the girls were going to swoon over him. Although the thought of girls giving him attention was exciting, Peter only wanted the attention of one girl and he was silently praying that she would be just as impressed by his costume as everyone else was. As they entered school grounds, the flattery kept coming Peter’s way and Ned was beginning to get fed up with the sudden attention. If they didn’t notice them before, a silly costume shouldn’t suddenly change things. 

“Dude, please, tell me you brought the suit? I wanna put on the suit,” Ned muttered and Peter nodded absentmindedly, already scanning the crowd of students for her. 

Keep reading

I’m a Monster

Prompt/Synopsis: Monsters

Requested by: Day 18 of @sanderssidesspook

Trigger warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, self deprecation, happy ending

Word count: 1089

A/N: Bringin some ANGST to the table

Posting this on mobile, I’m sorry!!!

________

Deceit stared at himself in the mirror. A once unfamiliar sickness curled in his stomach as he took in the scales, the fangs, the forked tongue- The yellow eye.

He never really minded his snake features. In a way, he liked them. It helped him… ‘Play the part.’ He looked different, because he was different. He was supposed to be different. After all, every Disney villain was easily discernible.

He liked them even more when he realized how much the others hated them- Specifically Virgil and Roman. Good. Let them hate it. Let them hate him. It only made his job easier.

But then- But then he wasn’t the bad guy. His snake features weren’t something he could be proud of anymore. They became an illness, a deformity. Something that separated him further and further from the people who were supposed to be his family now.

It was his first Halloween with the Core Sides, and Roman and Patton were very proud to say that every year they coordinated their costumes to a theme. This year, of course, was monsters.

While the rest of them holed up in their room to create the perfect surprise costumes, Deceit sat still. How was he supposed to create something that was more monstrous than he already was?

He thought about staying in his room, a little embarrassed about not having made anything, but decided to go anyway. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, hiding a smile.

Roman was flouncing about in a sea green dress made of flowing ripped fabric and a little turquoise tiara. Every time he sung or hummed, Patton would pretend to go into a daze, following him about and doing a horrible job at repressing his giggles. Patton himself was dressed as some kind of creepy doll, taking his usual innocence and spinning it in a surprisingly clever way. He had on his favourite ballet flats and a little pastel blue dress. His hair was a rats’ nest held together by an ungodly amount of hairspray, and he’s drawn in notches on his knees and elbows, complete with a painted on red smile and scarlet cheeks.

Logan and Virgil sat in front of the T.V., going through piles and piles of DVDs. Logan was dressed as a Sphinx, with grand wings and and a little tail, his face painted gold. Virgil had on little bat ears and fangs, wearing black lipstick and an intense smokey eye.

Roman gasped as he noticed Deceit standing there, and almost smiled, before it started to fade. Deceit was compelled to rush back up the stairs and hide as Roman whined, “You’re not wearing a costume!”

This drew the attention of the others. Patton pouted. “Dee! What happened?”

He forced up a little smirk, drifting into the living room and gesturing to himself. “I already sort of fit the part, no?”

Ro and Pat’s faces fell. “Of… A monster?” Roman whispered.

“You’re… You’re joking, right?” Virgil asked, his voice somewhat flat. He sat down the stack of DVDs he was going through.

Logan followed, and they were all staring straight at him. Shit. This was not the plan. It was supposed to be a small thing, a blip in the day, something clever- It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.

“Why would you say that?!” Patton cried. He rushed forward and threw his arms around Dee.

He just chuckled a little, showing off his sharp fangs. “I don’t exactly look normal, do I?” He shrugged and rested a hand on Patton’s head. “I don’t look like the rest of you.”

Roman looked horrified. “You think that makes you a monster?”

He sighed and gently pushed Patton off of him. He plopped onto the couch. “I’m literally Deceit.” He thought of reminding them how hellbent they all had been in the beginning to keep him away from them, keep his influence away from Thomas, but he refused to go that low. They were trying. He couldn’t throw that in their faces.

“That’s hardly monstrous,” Logan deadpanned. Deceit’s gaze snapped up at him. Logan rolled his eyes and went back to flicking through the movies as he spoke, setting a couple aside for later. “You’re with us for the same reason Virgil is- Self preservation. Thomas needs you.”

Deceit was already shaking his head. “That’s not-”

“As for your appearance, that’s not exactly… Factual. A monster is defined as ‘large, ugly, and frightening.’ I guess it’s debatable, but I think we can all unanimously agree that none of those fit you well.” He paused. “In fact, I find them endearing.”

Patton nodded feverently. “I love them! They’re so cute!”

“I was the emo one before you came around.” Virgil smirked. “You’ve got good style.”

“You are very frightening,” Roman said, “and I love it.”

“Now go put on a costume!” Patton glared, looking adorable. “We’re supposed to be monsters today.”

Roman rose his hand nervously. “I can make one for you, if you want.”

Patton gasped excitedly. “You should be a werewolf! Or a mummy! Or a ghost! Or-”

“A- A ghost is alright, yeah,” Dee said with a nervous laugh.

“Alright!” Roman grinned and waved his hand, and suddenly Deceit lost his vision.

“Uh…”

“Really, Princey? A sheet?”

“There’s not even any eye holes!”

“I- I may have rushed the creative process a bit. Just let me think for one second! Uh… Okay, got it!”

Deceit looked down at himself. His usual cape was replaced with a full length white one, his hair bleached. He stood taller in white stiletto heels, and a long, thin white gown. He had eyeshadow akin to Virgil, only it went all the way around his eyes.

“Behold!” Roman cried, gesturing to him. “A ghost!”

Patton squealed. “He looks so pretty! Aw, but what if the icing gets on his clothes when we make the cookies?!”

“No worries!” Roman grinned proudly. “I can clean it with the snap of a finger!”

Patton gripped Deceit and Virgil’s hands. “C’mon, c’mon, we can’t watch movies without the cookies!”

Deceit laughed as Patton dragged them to the kitchen, Roman and Logan following. They all looked ridiculous, honestly, but he didn’t feel ridiculous. He felt- He felt amazing. He knew the others were coming around to him, but he never thought they were this far. He didn’t realize how close they were.

Tonight, he was a monster. But when he took off his costume later, he would finally be rid of that label that’s hurt him for so long.

I Guess I Thought

In which his presence lingers [1.4k]

So…….part four? I don’t know what to tell you, maybe sorry I suppose for another chapter where not much happens apart from some angst? But things will pick up again soon! I promise. As always I hope you enjoy it and PLEASE do let me know what you think x

You can find parts [one] [two] and [three] here!

You wish breaking things off had been as easy as the first time.

Keep reading


Whatever started at the swing should be ended at the swing.


After watch the new promo clip with Cyrus at some where kind of like the park, I immediately think about the swing sence so I made this photo (with my crappy photoshop skill and my red/green color blindness so I don’t think it good enough, but feel free to use anywhere you like)

I can’t think what place more suitable for TJ to tell Cyrus about his feeling than at the swings. I hope someone can write a complete fic to this because I’m not really good at english, it’s not my native language so I don’t think I can make justice for the fic. So I’ll try my best to explain my idea to you guys.

After the dirt bike sence and it’s a new day at school. 

TJ walking in the hall and seem pissed of, he meet Cyrus stading at his locker, Cyrus spot him and cheerfully say hi but TJ cut it off:
- Hi T…. 
- Where was you last night? I though we suppose to be at my home and watch that document about dinosaurs for biology assignment?
- Oh shoot…I kind of busy and kind of forgot about that…sorry…how about today after class…I promise I’m not gonna forget again
- You make me wait like an idiot. At least you could text me.
- I know! I know…I’m sorry…I didn’t….

Then the blond boy appear, he was the new neighbor of Cyrus and he just moved to next door, last night they throw a welcome party and invite all the neighbors included Cyrus and his parent:
- Hey Cyrus!! did you have fun last night?
- I…um…yeah…it was…fun - Cyrus anwser while throw a glance to TJ.
- Cool, so see you around, I need to get to the principal office.
- Oh…okay.
- Bye TJ.

After the blond boy go far enough TJ said to Cyrus
- You know what? I forgot that I have basketball practice afterclass, so maybe you can ask that guy to do the assigment with you. Don’t WORRY about me I can do it by myself. 
- Wait…
- Bye Cyrus!!!!
-TJ…TJ…wait

Then TJ quickly step away, Cyrus trying to keep up with him but he can’t.

And in during the lunch time, Cyrus know he need to talk to TJ. He found the scary-basketball-guy sitting alone at the cafeteria. He going to sit with him but Dr. Metcalf and the blond boy with him, he stopped Cyrus and ask Cyrus to help the blond boy and show him around because he is a new student. Cyrus glance at TJ, he is trying not to being impolite with Dr. Metcalf but all he care about right now is talking to TJ. 

TJ lookup and saw Cyrus with the blond boy and Dr. Metcalf, he stare at Cyrus and then stading up and start to leave the cafeteria. Cyrus excuse himself to talk to Dr. Metcalf later and trying to chase after TJ but again he coun’t find TJ anywhere. He sigh and go back to the cafeteria.

A few days later Cyrus feeling that TJ trying to avoid him, he even not answer his text, Buffy asking him what happened between two of them because she didn’t see they hanging out anymore. Cyrus told Buffy what happened, and she just say that Cyrus should appologize to TJ. Cyrus said he is trying, Buffy said then try more and go to her class.

Cyrus go to the m,ath class and then he remember that he has math class with TJ. He get in class but didn’t see TJ anywhere, even after the bell ring he still not in class. He ask Jonah if he had seen TJ, Jonah said that he just met him earlier in the English class. Cyrus feel some mixing feeling in his heart, confusing, a little bit hurting,… He trying to focus but he can’t, all he can think of is the sad face of TJ in the cafeteria…

Cyrus decided to skip the lunch time to go to the swing, when he arrived he saw TJ sat there alone his eyes looking far away, deep in though. He stepping closer to the swing and when TJ see Cyrus he starting to go but this time Cyrus doesn’t let him go that easily. Cyrus yelled:
- TJ!! WAIT UP!! PLEASE! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!! PLEASE!!!

Then two boy sat down in quiet, none of them say anything, then Cyrus broke the silent and appologize to TJ, but TJ still didn’t say anything, he not even look at Cyrus.
- TJ! please talk to me! I know that my false and I’m really sorry that I ditched you….I really didn’t mean it…please talk to me…you know that I can’t stand silent treatment…please TJ…don’t mad at me…I miss my not-so-scary-basketball-guy…

Then TJ sigh
- I’m not mad at you Cyrus…I just, I don’t know what got in to me…I can’t in the same room with you right now…it made me feel…weird…I never had that feeling before…just seeing you with that guy and I…I just…

Then TJ silent for a long time, Cyrus just look at him and didn’t say anything, his heart beating fast and his hands are sweating. And TJ slowly look into Cyrus eyes, when their eyes locked TJ said in a very solf voices.
- I think I like you…I mean I like you…not as just a friend…

And that the end of my idea, I hope someone can help me to turn this into a real and complete fic @tjsgoodman @intyruswestan @lukemullen @im-trash-bye @tjhasacrushgoodman @jonahsbuffy @tjswings @tjkiahgb @thinkingabouttyrus and other authors that I didn’t know, thanks ;)

“viktor, i’m sick,” yuuri sniffles, trying his hardest to dodge his husband’s kisses even though he wants nothing more than to accept them. it’s not his fault they’re awfully tempting and make him feel like he’s walking upon clouds. “you’ll get sick too so stop!”

“i don’t care,” viktor retorts as he goes about pressing quick kisses around yuuri’s face. he aims for his rounded cheeks which are flushed pink and the tip of his nose which holds the same colour. several kisses are given to yuuri’s forehead which shines with sweat and should be disgusting but viktor doesn’t care. as long as he can shower his yuuri with affection, he doesn’t mind it at all. “i want to make you feel better and kisses are a part of that equation.”

yuuri raises an eyebrow, his expression an endearing mixture of amused and adorable. “oh really?” 

viktor nods seriously. “yes, it’s the truth.”

that causes yuuri to laugh but it’s interrupted by a perfectly covered sneeze and followed by a short groan. viktor looks at him worriedly, his hands already reaching for the tea on yuuri’s bedside but stops when yuuri shakes his head, his expression now thankful but assuring. 

“i don’t see how kisses can cure the flu,” yuuri starts and viktor groans this time but it’s playful and light. “i mean, it’s physically impossible and-”

his words are stopped as viktor had taken the opportunity to press his mouth against the heated skin of pinkish lips. the kiss is gentle and chaste but doesn’t feel to ignite a pleasant warmth that contrasts so differently to the insufferable heat and dreadful cold of a fever. it makes yuuri sigh sweetly and viktor swallows it with an eager breath, his hands cupping yuuri’s face so lovingly that it hurt. 

yuuri never questions him again after that and only chides him a little bit when viktor ends up in bed a week a little, body riddled with the horrible flu. 

viktor has no regrets, the beautiful smile that crossed Yuuri’s face after the kiss being a fine reward. 

— if you call 'superficial love' "love", then unfortunately it seems I must be a fool.

i.
betrayal doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it did. it’s featherlike, because you expected something like this at one point or another.
handcuffs don’t hurt as much as you thought they did. they’re heavy, like your sentence.
the prison’s cell doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it did. you can still breathe this fake aseptic air.
solitude doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it did. you’re used to being alone, again.
seeing him doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it did. — yet it does.

ii.
the way they treat you is disgusting. you spit in their face and they beat you again.
the way they handle you during the routinely frisking is nauseating. you stay calm. but they might beat you again.
the way you feel after is a mix of both; handprints burning fresh onto your skin. leaving fuming marks all across.
but you shiver when it’s him roaming your figure, his fingers cold and precise. he doesn’t leave anything behind and you’re half bitter about that.

iii.
“the cat’s got your tongue?”
that’s what they said to you in an 8-hours interrogatory, smirking. you remained silent.
“the cat’s got your tongue?”
that’s what you say to him in a 5-seconds glance. smirking. he remains silent.
his LED does the speaking. red.

iv.
the first time you hear his voice is when you disobey.
looking at his face with your tongue exposed, almost like a dog. except you’re a reptile, eyes slitted, the left one closed in a forced wink. throwing down the gauntlet. waiting for a chance to shed your crocodile’s tears down your scaly cheeks.
you forgot what he said.

v.
the second time you hear his voice is when it’s dark.
his temple the only light in the shadow of your four-walled confine.
exasperated by your thrashing around the cot’s sheets he mouths a simple “why”.
you freeze at that and your pupils get wider. surprised you pretend to sleep.

vi.
there’s a third time and a fourth too of hearing his voice.
his mellifluous bass tone, echoing for the fifth, sixth and seventh time.
it slowly becomes a habit.
late night talks for an android that doesn’t need sleep and for a prisoner that will soon sleep too much.

vii.
“why” he asks once more, intimacy laced in his indifference behind the holographic bars.
“why not” your head leaning onto the rough gray, watching the floor conjoin into a scratched corner.
“it’s stupid” he replies, childishly huffy, trying to decipher your expression.
“what’s the criterion for beauty?” you whisper “subjective” he hurriedly blurts out “wrong” he seems taken aback “polykleitos’ kanon” this time he’s sure he has the correct answer “bzz-bzz wrong again” you mock a sound with your teeth.

viii.
“how did the trial go?”
you hug your knees more tightly, hushed sobs escaping your throat “bad”
he already knew. he knows. a month went by.
he’d like to touch your head and caress your hair.

ix.
it’s his night shift again.
“don’t you ever get bored?”
“don’t you?”
he’d like to read you a book or play cards and pass the time.

x.
“are you experiencing any sign of psychosis or depression?”
“no. would you like me to?”
“no”
he’s worried. how are you coping every day with the same minimalistic environment?
his LED yellow. you both never speak about this topic again.

xi.
his duty today is to give you clean clothes, horizontal stripes.
in your breast pocket, above the “9” written on your jacket, a tiny chocolate. bittersweet.
“what’s this?” you chew your words and he looks away.
“a secret.”
“give me some brandy too, next time.”

xii.
“what’s the criterion for beauty?” he leans in, adjusting in his black leather armchair, he’s curious, he wants to understand, he needs to.
“there’s plenty of stones but only few gems. is really one more exquisite than the other? no. rarity is what makes a thing beautiful” you spill “isn’t the same for androids?” mercilessly sneering “you, more than anyone, should get that. a lone diamond, a prototype, no mass-produced. RK900. being the rarest makes you the prettiest, isn’t this right?”
“that’s why you stole it?” he’s left pondering.

xiii.
a glass bottle makes a ‘clink’ sound as it is set down on the ground.
“your brandy”
a tilt of your head in a confused state “it’s empty”.
he smiles for the first time “it wasn’t for you.”

xiv.
he gazes at you longingly while you undress, your whole body left naked for him to stare.
you change into his uniform.
now it’s your turn to watch his perfectly made anatomy, chiselled in every particular.
he changes into yours.
a wrist encased by another hand, a light shove forward, chests pressing into each other, lips ensnared by different lips.

xv.
of course, people will notice next morning.
but the guards’ intoxication will buy you just enough time.
“this is where we part”
“it seems so”
you fleed with his scent still lingering on you.
in the end he took the blame and all that it would entail.

no matter how many farewell kisses; their true nature is always wicked.

The stars in your eyes - by Damian Wayne

Hi, a random bolt of inspiration struck me and I whipped this little thing up. The one image I had in mind while writing it was Jon fan art by my friend @juneii-art , and I asked her permission to use it here. It’s so beautiful and fits so well. I hope you enjoy the short fic! It’s Damian talking to himself about Jon.


Whenever you glance my way, I see the stars shine in your eyes.

And though your crystal blue is more like a clear day than deep night, they sparkle like the most precious gems even without any light.

Sometimes I’m glad I wear a mask over my eyes because you’re too dazzling. You can’t see me squint and look away. You’re too bright and too radiant, and every smile you flash my way is a gift I don’t deserve. You’re so hard to look at because whenever I do, I feel like I wouldn’t ever want to stop. You’re too much, so much, that my eyes water and I have to blink.


So I find it ironic how you look at me like I was the one who was actually the sun. You look at me like I was light in the darkness, the answer to a wordless question. You smile at me like I was gentle warmth from the hearth and sunlight after a storm. It was always odd how you clung to me like a sapling’s stem pivoting towards daylight, because all this time, I thought you were the one whose smile was sunshine.

I’m a shadow. I’m a sword. I’m a demon in the night. I’m a bat that flits through the dark unseen. I’m not meant to see the dawn and I don’t belong under the bright glare of day. I don’t fit in when people wake and feel the need to find their savior. That’s supposed to be you, right? You’re the face of the hero, the one they can know, and see, and praise. You’re the one they see when they look up to bask in the light.

That’s why I keep asking you. Why do you glance my way? Why do you look at me like I was the brightest point of your day? I belong to the night and I know deep in my heart that I don’t deserve to see your smile. But always, it’s there, with your face bright and wonderful, and the stars twinkling and beautiful in your eyes.

A part of me hopes you’ll stop…because one day I’ll lose control and look at you the way you look at me. 

And I know it’ll happen because you’re making me realize each time you glance my way…

…that the stars are brightest at night.

anonymous asked:

What are some of your favorite iida focused stories?

this will be unfortunately short bc of how few good iida-centric fics there are BUT

you and i will be a tough act to follow - taizi
iida introspection on his friendship/rivalry with midoriya

each with our own hand - idlestarlight
iida??? being supported by someone (specifically his bf todoroki)???? truly this is one in a million

get to know you - mikewritesthings
got me into iisero, and one of the best examples ive seen of getting into iida’s thought process

i stitch in time saves nine! - thecrowmaiden
iida can sew? iida can sew

to wake - sayasamax3
iida being pined after by todoroki and midoriya like he deserves

an untitled ficlet - aquatariuswriter
iida’s first sensory overload as a kid, and being helped by tensei bc autistic iida is canon

i am not a robot

   Prompt/Synopsis: I Am Not A Robot by Marina and the Diamonds

   Requested by: No one

   Trigger warnings: Nsfw (vague mentions of sex and the last scene is a very vague sex scene, no body parts mentioned), trans Virgil, depression, Logan’s addicted to cigarettes, abusive/manipulative families mentioned and implied, hickies, female top parts on a trans character mentioned, transboy’s time of the month mentioned, t and f slur mentioned uncensored [Bittersweet/Hopeful ending]

    Word count: 1499

    A/N: Don’t worry, I know I still have some prompts to work on! But with Spooky Month kicking my ass and all I wanted to take a break from prompts and I already really wanted to do something w/ Logan and this song, and then I started listening to it more and more and got some Virgil vibes, too. I spat out a first draft in like twenty minutes in my gov class and worked with it from there xD

    Reblogs > Likes


    Virgil slammed his locker shut hard enough for the girl next to him to jump. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, stalking through the halls with a glare that was habitual. At this point, he himself wasn’t sure if he was actually pissed off or not. But it did its job- Freshmen scrambled out of his way and upperclassmen glared back but kept their distance.

    A group of seniors stood blocking the staircase, talking and showing each other things on their phones and laughing. Virgil stopped in front of them.

    No one moved. “Wait for the bell to ring,” one guy said, snorting.

    Anger shot through Virgil like little electric shocks. His hands slowly curled into fists, and he took in a breath, before shoving the closest person out of the way with his forearm and plowing through them so hard one of them almost tumbled down the stairs.

    “What the fuck?!”

    “Thanks, asshole!”

    “Go fuck yourself!”

    Logan breathed out gray clouds. He dropped his cigarette butt and grinded it under the heel of his combat boot, tossing it away. He leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes, and considered going to class.

    No.

    He pulled out another cigarette and lit it up. He smoked another two before he decided he was buzzed enough to control his thoughts. The notes he memorized fell away and he could instead remember the night before, of his love writhing underneath his body, gripping onto each other and pulling each other closer and refusing to let go as they moaned into each other’s mouths.

Keep reading

They’re a Man-eater [fic]

Rating: T (Explicit overall)

Relationship: Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote

Additional Tags: Fluff, Tentacle Sex, Light Angst

Chapter: ½ | WC 4.8K

Read on AO3

Summary: “Hey,” Eddie says, leaning back against the kitchen table. “You’ve been quiet lately.“

It almost feels like—like nerves, or some shit, which doesn’t make any sense, because the symbiote never had trouble calling him a pussy and a loser before it all almost ended.

Or: Eddie and his symbiote learn to be together.

A/N: im in love with these two now…


After talking to Anne and convincing her that there was nothing amiss, that he didn’t find the symbiote still living inside him, despite it all; despite the fight with Riot—a blood-curdling, terrifying event that almost left him dead—and despite the sorrow that he felt when he thought that symbiote was gone, an ache that he couldn’t possibly describe, Eddie went home.

Home is just the way he left it. That is to say, the bodies and blood have been cleaned from his floor and most of the furniture replaced, but it’s the same shithole that he’s known since Anne left him to fend for himself after he fucked everything up between them.

It’s not that he has to stay here anymore, because he got a huge lump sum of money from the Life Foundation, but after Anne, and after the symbiote and Venom, he doesn’t know quite what to do with himself.

Well, that’s not entirely true. He knows of a million things he could do. He could start over. Eddie could move somewhere; find a place that suits him with the money he got, but the truth is, he doesn’t want to. This is place where the symbiote and him—this is where it all started. This is really where they become who they are now. Whatever that means.

Eddie opens the door to his apartment and steps inside. He shuts it behind him, hand hovering on the doorknob before he turns around, slowly.

It’s the same empty, lonely place that he remembers.

Home sweet home, he thinks.

Keep reading

archiveofourown.org
On Edge
By Organization for Transformative Works

#fallficaday - Day 17

Author: wannnabesuper
Rating: G
Word Count: 7,437
Type: Non-magic!AU

Summary: Every time they meet, Remus gives Sirius a new ridiculous reason for having been on the cliff where they met.

Warnings: discussion of suicide, some homophobia

Comments: A strange, but charming, mix of humor and sadness. I laughed out loud at so many parts; the author really has a talent for dialogue. The flirting was great and so were James and Lily. The message at the end makes it a bit bittersweet, but it’s clear their future will be happy.

anonymous asked:

Wayhaught smut prompt: Waverly accidentally pulls Nicole’s hair too hard during a makeout session and finds out she has a hair pulling kink

Nicole always knew how to get Waverly going, she knew exactly how to push her limits and she could read her so easily that Waverly wondered if Nicole could see inside her head. Often, a single look from Waverly could set Nicole into motion and they’d be pressed together within minutes with Nicole smirking and Waverly whining under her touch.

The first time they came together changed their dynamic completely. They were still the soft, loving pair that Wynonna would gag at from across the room but there was more there, now. There was a constantly unquenched desire and necessity for each other and it drove them both insane. Especially when they started exploring more and they became more familiar with each other, their bodies and what they liked.

Nicole discovered the first time they’d ever taken the step that her innocent from the outside girlfriend did in fact subconsciously beg to be held down and taken. Nicole had her arm over Waverly’s hips, holding her against the bed before preparing to take her with her mouth, and she did nothing about it that first time, only noting it for later, but Waverly was releasing all kinds of whines and whimpers and it left Nicole positively ruined by the time Waverly touched her.

Waverly grew in confidence, her begging to submit to Nicole became more explicit and their bedroom dynamic changed again. They found it impossible to keep their hands to themselves and the amount of times they were getting caught was becoming embarrassing because Nicole changed when they were alone sometimes and she became the cocky redhead that Waverly had met that first day, and Waverly hates how easy it is for her to lay on the bed, pull Nicole on top of her and beg her to go fast and hard and to not stop. To not ever stop.

Nicole always knew exactly what Waverly needed, how to reach and push and pull at their boundaries to find something new to make their time together become even better, but, and maybe it was because it was Waverly’s first time with someone so caring and attentive, there were parts of the ravenous, needy Nicole that she couldn’t quite decipher yet.

-

Waverly’s back is pressed hard into the door of the Homestead as it shuts closed behind her, Nicole’s knee between her thighs and her hands in so many places at the same time that Waverly is certain she’s grown extra limbs.

Nicole’s doing her thing again, the one where she knows Waverly wants something so she initiates this, something a little lighter, and pushes and pushes until Waverly blurts out whatever is in her mind. Waverly’s more frightened this time, though. As easy and often as she and Nicole communicate under this sort of thing, she’s never really asked explicitly the things that Nicole is into. Still being early on, their sexual relationship with one another is still bordering vanilla and Waverly is terrified she’ll push a boundary if Nicole feels too embarrassed to say anything.

Nicole’s mouth is all heat and warmth and wet and Waverly can’t possibly get enough, not when they’re pushed against the door. She tries to push past, maybe take it somewhere more private but Nicole’s hands are firm yet still somewhat gentle on her waist as she pushes her back against the door.

“Your sister isn’t home,” Nicole rasps. Her hands travel south and end up at Waverly’s thighs. They both know what that means, and Waverly latches her hands around Nicole’s shoulders as she’s lifted, thighs resting tight on Nicole’s hips. She can feel the door pressing against her back but it isn’t enough to rend her uncomfortable. If anything, any pain would be a reminder of Nicole Haught taking her against the door of her own home. “I’m having you right here.”

Waverly meets Nicole’s eyes and she can see the ’if you want me to’ written all over her expression. It astounds Waverly, how Nicole can be so desperate and so obviously overcome with the desire to fuck Waverly senseless in a way that forces her to submit, yet she’s still so gentle and caring. She feels an infinite amount of luck in finding Nicole Haught.

“Yes,” Waverly breathes. “Yes. Right here.”

Nicole grins, teeth latching onto her pulse as Waverly’s hands slide into the silky strands of Nicole’s short, unstraightened hair to cup her skull. Waverly releases a groan when Nicole bites a little harder and Nicole’s taken her enough times to know that the tightening of Waverly’s thighs around her means she wants more. That she can take more and the only thing she needs is more. More of Nicole. More of her mouth.

Nicole soothes a bite with her tongue and moves to a new patch of skin further along her neck, biting down hard and Waverly gasps in surprise, surprise at the fresh flood greeting her between the thighs and the extremely loud groan from Nicole against her throat. She doesn’t realise how tight she was pulling at Nicole’s hair until the skin latched between Nicole’s teeth is set free and she pulls away, looking at Waverly darkly.

Oh.

“Waves,” she mutters.

Waverly, her fingers still tangled through red hair, grins proudly to herself at the newly found information about her very well put together, unable to lose control girlfriend. The look in Nicole’s eyes is pure want and desire and fuck Waverly doesn’t know how to react to it at first, so she does the only thing she can to confirm her suspicions.

She pulls harder.

Nicole’s head tilts back, partially with the pull of Waverly’s hand but mostly in pleasure if Nicole’s mouth falling open in a breathy gasp is any indication. Waverly grins wider.

Fuck,” Nicole curses quietly. The fingers gripping Waverly thighs tighten and claw at her harder, and suddenly the amount of clothing between them is too much. She knows there’s a high chance of bruising along her thighs with how hard Nicole is pushing against her but she gets off to that thought, the one where Nicole can’t control herself so she hammers and pounds into Waverly like she’s oxygen and she’s ran out of breath.

“So,” Waverly smirks, calm but proud. Nicole was so going to get her back for this. “I see we’ve discovered a little something that you haven’t told me about.”

Nicole groans again, closing her eyes as Waverly moves in to kiss her deeply, her tongue sliding into her mouth as Waverly cups the back of her head.

“Shut it,” Nicole growls animalistically.

“No way,” Waverly shakes her head, fingers still twining through Nicole’s hair. “I’m not dropping this.”

Waverly’s starting to really come out of her shell now and Nicole isn’t sure how she hasn’t ripped off her damn jeans and gone to town.

“Tell me, baby.” Waverly continues, one hand moving to trail a finger slowly across Nicole’s jaw. Her thumb brushes against the corner of Nicole’s lips and part of her wishes she hadn’t pulled it away so quickly when Nicole attempts to take it in her mouth and lavish it with a wet, warm tongue. “Do you want me to pull your hair so hard when you go down on me that you can’t concentrate?”

Nicole stops dead. Waverly hadn’t spoken to her like this before and damn if she hadn’t just discovered another kink.

“C'mon, Nic. You’re so eager to give me what I want. Let me discover more of you.”

Nicole moans quietly. She hadn’t expected this. She’d expected to push Waverly against the door and drive her fingers so deep and relentlessly that Waverly struggles to walk up the stairs for round two. She had not expected to be beaten and to have unlocked a door of Waverly’s (and really, of her own) that consisted entirely of her taking control and using Nicole more and more for her own gain.

She can’t say she hadn’t thought about it, but similarly she had expected Waverly to like soft, gentle and passionate love-making and that turned out to be more inaccurate than she’d thought. And damn if people like Wynonna knew what Waverly was into. Her older sister would be scarred for life. If anything, gentle sex was the last thing on Waverly’s list despite how much they did enjoy that side to each other too.

So Nicole, for whatever reason, maybe to let Waverly explore, gives in. She pushes into Waverly’s neck, nuzzling the skin and nosing along her collarbone. She bites into the marked skin again, causing Waverly to jolt and her hair is pulled again, hard.

“Oh fuck, Waves, I-”

“Shh,” Waverly kisses her soundly. “I know. You’re gonna let me do my thing with you or what?”

Nicole thinks for a moment, but the darkness in Waverly’s eyes and the desire painting her expression is everything if not more. Their exploring had become more frequent, was starting to become more than vanilla but not exactly extravagant, (God help Waverly when Nicole pulls out the harnesses and the manifold components to accompany them), and Nicole should have seen this coming. Especially with knowledge that Waverly always wanted to do new things in any context (particularly this one).

Nicole sighs. “Yes.”

Wellll damn that got kinda long but I got carried away lmao so much for a mini-fic. Side note: my headcanon is that Nicole has a v serious hair pulling kink so you can imagine how eager I was when I saw this in my inbox. Thank you for the prompt! Not quite full smut but i’m down to continue it if a full piece is wanted :)))

send me more ideas for prompts and headcanons regarding wayhaught and any other pairing/character from wynonna earp and i shall get to them asap

Damerey Week: Best (Shared) Friendship

“So, if you really need to know, I guess it all started when I needed a pilot.” Finn pursed his lips and stared at the bright yellow wall in front of him, trying to figure out how best to phrase it. “I was … well, I worked for some bad people. Really bad. And worked for isn’t the best word for it, but - uh,” he blinked and redirected. “So there he was: he’d had a terrible day, himself, but he took a chance on me. Best pilot in the galaxy, poster boy of the Resistance, taking a chance on me. He told me he could fly anything, and you know what? He was absolutely telling the truth.”

He paused and looked at his audience, his throat closing up for a moment, and then he shook his head, rubbed the short growth on his chin, and continued. “He saved my life. Gave me my name. Poe Dameron, the legend. My best friend.”

“And, my life wouldn’t be the same without my other best friend. I’m pretty sure you know her.” He winked, and giggles answered his silly gesture. “She’s alright.” He eyed the doorway expecting an object to come flying through it and raised his hands in mock-surrender. “Okay, okay, she’s more than alright. She’s wonderful, and brave, and absolutely terrifying.” Nods of agreement met the statement. “And let me tell you, she kicked my a—butt the first time we met. Thought I’d stolen my jacket.”

He stopped and preened, patting the leather jacket which had, admittedly, seen better days. Finn nodded at the Ooo’s and Aaah’s and straightened out the lapels before continuing. “She looked at me like no one else had, and while Poe saved my life, Rey showed me that I could be a hero, that I could save other people. She believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself, and I’ll never forget that.”

“So, when people ask me how it feels to know the heroes of the Resistance, I tell them it feels lucky.”

Tiny hands clapped together delightedly as he finished his makeshift story. It didn’t really have a solid beginning, middle, or end, but so much of the beginning, middle, and end was defined by violence that Finn wasn’t ready to share with them, not yet.

Shara and Hana Dameron stared up at him with bright, beaming smiles, four years old and full of questions that he could see swimming in their brown eyes. Before they could ask them, a soft voice floated into the bedroom.

“Your Uncle Finn missed the most important hero of the Resistance.” Rey, finally returned from the evening’s Senate event, walked into the room, beatifically smiling at her twin daughters. After the excited exclamations of mommy! and kisses placed on round, freckled cheeks, the girls settled back onto their bed.

“Who’s that, Mommy?” Shara, the more outspoken twin, asked.

“Why, it’s your Uncle Finn,” Rey said, eyebrows raised. Finn squirmed uncomfortably, about to argue. But: “He saved your mom and dad many times during the war, and the Army never would have defeated the First Order on Tatooine without his leadership. Best soldier I ever saw.”

Finn blushed even as the twins whispered, “Wow.”

“We wouldn’t have gotten very far without Finn,” Poe’s warm voice continued. The retired Colonel leaned against the doorframe, smiling at his family, the silver in his hair now completely undeniable. “We owe him our lives, our freedom - more things than I can list, really.”

“Uncle Finn, how did you become such a good soldier?” Hana clearly felt brave enough to ask.

His stomach dropped slightly, but Rey smoothly said, “You should ask him tomorrow, after you’ve gotten some sleep, and only if he wants to answer.” Shara and Hana modded solemnly. “Now, I’m sure he wants to get home to his own babies.”

“Next time, can Paige and Tallie come with Uncle Finn?” Shara asked, snuggling in under the blanket next to her sister.

“Of course,” Finn grinned at her. “Hopefully they’ll be over the stomach flu by then.”

Rey and Poe kissed their children goodnight, and Finn gathered up the toys and books that had been scattered around the nursery during the evening. After the light clicked off, and Finn was the last one standing in the room, Hana whispered, “Uncle Finn?”

“What is it, Peanut?”

“…Were you ever afraid of the dark?”

Finn thought back to his training, his childhood, his brothers dying around him, his brother dying in his arms (killed by the man who would become his brother). He cleared his throat and whispered back, “Yeah. Still am, sometimes.”

“Oh.” And then: “Could you…stay? Until I fall asleep?”

Warmth flooded his chest, and although he himself was tired and needed to walk home, Finn nodded. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

“Thanks.” Hana burrowed in under the covers. “…I love you.”

“Me too,” Shara echoed

“I love you both,” Finn said. “Very, very much.”

Review of... a review.

Find a fanfic you adore and want to let the author know you loved it?  Have an author you follow who hasn’t updated a particular fanfic in a while, but perhaps has been working on other things, or not any fanwork at all?  Want to remind someone you love the work they do?

You might think you’re being helpful and well-intended, but it’s possible your encouragement might be having the opposite effect.  Some things to consider:

  • Could the author interpret your comment / review as pressuring?
  • Is it possible the author might find your comment / review discouraging?
  • Will your comment / review inspire the author to get excited about writing?
  • Does the comment / review inspire pride in the piece?
  • Would someone considering reading the piece do so after reading the comment / review?

Well, shit, Crystal… Now I’m not sure.  I just liked the story and wanted to tell them so!  What can I say?

No worries - there are some things you can keep in mind about authors and fanwork.

Keep reading

L and V (Part 7)

A/N: The next part might be late because when I originally plotted everything out, I rushed the finale, so like, you might have an extra part.

Tropes/Pairings: Analogical, background Royality (and…it’s gone), hero x villain, soulmates AU (the one where if you draw on yourself, it shows up on your soulmate’s skin), and superpowers

Summary: Logic is shocked by Anxiety’s confession, and he decides that they need to talk.

TW: Minor guilt (Tell me if there’s any more)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Dread filled Logic. He wondered if Virgil was messing with him. That wasn’t a likely option, he figured. Logic had known V for almost 20 years now (albeit most of it was just in pen and some of it was when they were just infants), and Virgil never would joke about something like this. Virgil never would mess with him like that, would he?

His archenemy of, what? 3 years? And his soul mate of 20 years? Are the same person. He couldn’t believe it. He wanted to refuse to believe it. His enemy and his soul mate are the same person, if V wasn’t messing with him. Logic had told V about his journey into the “dark side”. He had known about Logic’s whole villain shtick. Why hadn’t Virgil tell him sooner? Why now? What else didn’t Logan know?

“Call off the heist,” Logic commanded Sleep.

His right-hand man looked up from the fire escape. Sleep groaned and pointedly sipped their tea, disobeying the team’s leader. At least, Logic thought he was the leader, but everyone in the team deep down knew that the Dragon Witch was the puppeteer.

Logic’s glare at Sleep screamed murder. “Call. Off. The. Heist,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

Keep reading

Dinner

A tiny lil fic for irondad folks I guess

“I’ll have the garden salad, along with the wild west steak, well done, and don’t forget sauce. Thank you.” Tony looked over at Pepper.

“I’ll do a garden salad, too, along with…umm…” She played absentmindedly with a lock of her shiny hair. “Chicken quesadilla. Hold the sour cream, and extra guacamole, please.”

Peter smiled up at the waitress. “Just the chicken tenders basket and fries. Ketchup, please.” He hadn’t been out to a restaurant for what seemed like years. He loved eating out, partly because of his bad eating habits, but mostly because eating at home meant Aunt May asking about his day, which wasn’t annoying, but just time-consuming and requiring focus that he didn’t have.

Tony put his elbows on the tablecloth and leaned in, fingers intertwined in front of his chest. Peter glimpsed the dull blue glow of the arc-reactor through Tony’s button-up before it disappeared behind his hands. “Hey, so I have good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” requested Peter, his mouth already on the way to drinking his soda.

“The bad news is that I have to ask how everyone is doing.” Peter pulled his lips into his mouth for a split second. “I don’t like it anymore than you two, but it is good for our health, and health is kinda a big deal.”

Pepper dropped her glass softly and leaned in, her dainty wedding ring glittering in the white restaurant light. “I’ve been preoccupied with work for the most part. Houston was great, I met a lot of cool people, and-“ she took a sip from her straw- “more people are investing in Stark Industries than ever, but that’s no big surprise.

“Anyhow, I’ve just been too busy to really think about much, but I guess I think about everything before bed. And I don’t really feel scared or freaked out anymore, I just…” Pepper locked eyes with Tony. “…I feel a sense of peace. Like we’re done.”

“Fabulous,” gushed Tony before emptying a packet of sugar into his coffee. “I myself have been busy enough that I can only think about anything before bed, too, so we should, like, get together on that.” The engineer crossed his legs under the table and leaned back, looking at Peter. “And honestly…” his voice became softer, less rambunctious. Peter looked up, knowing this change in tone usually meant a heartfelt statement.

“Before Thanos was dead, and I mean, all the way back to the beginning…no matter how long it stayed without trouble, I least felt like it would come back. I felt like-I felt like being Iron Man was forever, and that evil would keep coming, and coming, and coming, and one day…” he paused to scratch behind his ear. “And one day, I would die protecting Earth, and the fall of the world would be on me.

“But now that Thanos isn’t in the picture, I feel like nothing’s going to bother us for a long time. And even if it does, stopping it won’t be a big deal.” He squeezed Pepper’s hand under the table. She smiled at Tony. She felt the same way too, and was wondering if Tony knew. She would ask him before bed tonight. Tony smiled back at his bride, wondering briefly how he had possibly caught this stunning broad.

“Your turn, champ. Talk it up.”

Peter groaned internally. Talking about his feelings sometimes felt harder than fighting crime. “Umm…”

It occurred to the 17-year-old that telling the couple about his night terrors would upset them. Maybe they’d even try to bring him to more therapy, to put him on more medication. His heart shrunk at the thought. It was hard enough being a junior in high school and Spider-Man, much less having more PTSD than probably any kid in history.

He looked up at Pepper and Mr. Stark. Pepper smiled at him softly, and he saw wrinkles emerging from the edges of her eyes and her nose. It propelled him back into the week he had spent at Stark Tower, watching old movies with her every night and crashing on the white leather couch. Both Mr. Stark and May were away for business, and the four of them decided unanimously that Pepper and Peter should spend this week together, with it being so soon after the battle and all. It suddenly occurred to Peter that he loved this woman. With a pang of surprise, he realized that Pepper, along with Mr. Stark, were the first thing he’d had since May that felt truly, really like a family.

Peter took a deep breath.

“I know it would be stupid to lie to you guys, and I also know not saying anything wouldn’t help me, but I’ve been having, um, scary dreams. I’m not freaking out or anything, and I’m getting sleep in the end, but they’re…” Peter tried to ignore the worried lines on Pepper’s forehead- “pretty, uh…” he pushed a vision of the vast, terrifying expanse of space out of his head. “…vivid.”

Tony scooted in his chair. “Kid, you have no idea how happy I am that you told me that because I have literally the exact same thing and I would be more than delighted to help you with that. Dr. Isaac put me on some stuff that helps tre-men-dously, and I’ll call him up about doing something for you A.S.A.P.”

“What’s the good news?”

Tony blinked a few times. “What?”

Peter laughed. “You said you had good news and bad news, what’s the good news?”

“Oh yeah,” laughed Tony, stealing a delighted glance with Pepper. He patted his jacket pockets, then his front pant pockets, finally producing a roughly folded paper. It chattered as he unfolded it. “So we talked to May, and so basically-“ he flattened the paper on the table, looking up at the high schooler- “Pepper and I are officially your godparents, and you’re cordially invited to come hang out at Stark Tower whenever you want.”

Tony looked up from the document, surprised to see that Peter was staring back at him, not at the paper. Tony almost laughed at how childlike Peter’s round, brown eyes looked.

“Peter, what’s up? Are you okay?” Peter looked at Pepper, breaking out of his trance. As soon as he blinked, a tear ran down his face to his neck. Tony froze.

Peter’s voice was hoarse. “I-I know godparents aren’t like a super big deal, or anything, but-“ -he sniffed, looking down-“you guys are like, my family.”

Tony felt a lump in his throat.

“I mean, I guess I’ve never had a mom or a dad, as far as I can remember, and uh…you guys, um-“

Pepper crushed Peter in an embrace. “I love you, sweetie. We love you. Shh.”

Peter felt his muscles release tension in the tightness of her arms. He lost himself in the warmth of her sweater, but then his acute senses told him to look over.

Mr. Stark had put on his sunglasses, and now sat quietly as tears ran down into his beard from under the lenses. Peter laughed simultaneously with Pepper. “Aw, Mr. Stark,” he chuckled through sniffs.

“Nothing is happening.” Tony picked up his mug and drank deeply, ignoring his increasingly wet face.

Pepper giggled madly, slapping Tony’s arm.

Their food was ready.

A Vow

“So, tell me about yourself.”

Webby sat on the front yard of McDuck Manor, gripping grass blades in her hand. The mansion always got the best sun at this hour, and the duckling had begun to love the feel of it’s light and warmth on her face. She gave a slight chuckle and yanked the grass out of the ground. “I don’t know what to tell you, you already know everything about me.”

“Humor me.”

She blew the blades of grass into the air and watched them scatter. “My name is Webbigail Vanderquack, I was born in Duckberg and raised at McDuck Manor. I don’t remember much about my parents and that’s ok, cause I had a really great grandmother. I have three amazing friends that are practically brothers and every week we go on some amazing adventure. I also have this really cool, really pretty best friend named Lena.”

“Oh tell me about her, she sounds cool!”

Webby laughed and fell back onto the grass, stretching her arms out and closing her eyes. “Well, she’s got these beautiful eyes, ones you could lose yourself in and trust me I did so many times. Oh and her smile was so cute, even when it was just the smallest little smirk! And she had this hair that looked perfect, even when it was messy or tangles. I’d always have to fight the urge to ruffle it or put my hands in it.” She lifted her right arm into the sky and motioned like she was running her hand through Lena’s hair, picturing the teen smiling and blushing. For a brief flash Webby could swear she actually felt the contact, and her hand recoiled in fear and overwhelming emotion.

“That felt … nice.”

Webby took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, could hear it pounding in her head. Her hands went to her chest and clutched at her vest. The rhythmic pattern it created ironically managed to calm her down and slow itself. “I think I was falling in love with her, I’m not sure. It was a lot of new stuff I’ve never felt before, but I can’t really think of what else it could be. Just thinking about her made me happy, and now that I’m starting to figure out these feelings and what they mean, she’s gone. I can’t tell her how beautiful she is or how I want to hug her and never let her go and how I just want to spend every day with her, maybe as her girlfriend or even just as her friend, just as long as it’s with her.”

“Webby, stop and breath.”

The young duckling stopped talking and let shaky breath escape her lungs. Her vision had clouded due to the tears she was unaware she’d been shedding. Webby wiped at her eyes and cheeks, hiding the evidence of her emotional outburst. For one of the first times in her life she was thankful to be alone, to not have to explain this storm of emotions she’d been bottling up every second of every day since Lena had vanished, since Magica had stolen her back to the realm of shadows and sorcery. A few minutes of breathing followed as Webby stared at the clouds pass by above her, until she gathered the composure needed to speak.

“I want you to be her, I want you to really be her, that somehow she managed to hold onto something and stay with me. But what if I’m just imagining this, or what if it’s another of Magica’s tricks?” Webby asked, unsure why when she didn’t even know if she could trust whatever answers may come.

“I’d say it was me and call you a beautiful idiot, but would you really believe me?”

Webby laughed, “I don’t know, but if you are a fake that was a pretty good answer.” She lifted her hand once again, staring intently at the bracelet around her wrist as if waiting for it to blink morse code at her confirming it was Lena, but it simply hung there as any bracelet would. And yet, as cautious as she wanted to be, a stronger part of her deep down was screaming at her that yes, this was the girl she loved and it wasn’t too late to hold her and run her hand through that pink and white hair.

Webby closed her eyes once again, and again she pictured Lena. From the hair, to the smirk, to those black eyes that shined like a lake at night, dark and yet full of emotion and beauty. The younger duckling could see her standing there, in the darkness of her imagination, just a few inches away. “I think that’s you. No, I know it’s you. You held on didn’t you?”

“What can I say? You were too cute to ditch.” It-she said. Webby smiled as a small blush formed, one that stood out in great contrast to her white feathers. The young, ecstatic duckling had to fight a few more tears, and though she failed to do so she still managed to keep most of them at bay. She held out her hand and imagined Lena doing the same, hoping to replicate that flash of a sensation when she pretended to ruffle Lena’s hair.

And it worked! She could feel that hand press against hers, could feel the cold turn to warmth and the pressure on her fingers and palm.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, alright? I’m gonna find a way to get you back to me! And when I do I promise I will never, ever let you go again!” She vowed, imagining Lena’s fingers curling around her own as they held each other’s hands tightly.

“Sounds like a date.”


Missed day three of Weblena week cause work and moving to new apartment had me drained, but I wanted to type out another fluff piece for day 4. Thank you to whoever reads these silly things, it means a lot.

@weblenaweek