The ceremony is open-casket, May stands alone in the room. She hesitantly reaches her hand out, then brushes his hair back from his face one last time, just like she used to do when he was a little kid. When he got to be about twelve he had started ducking out of the way when she tried. Now, there was no resistance. No awkward laugh as he swatted her hand away.
His laugh was her favorite.
She remembered the first time he laughed after moving in with them. It had been almost a week, without so much as a smile on his face. Then she had let Ben do the cooking one night.The chicken tasted like fish and the potatoes had the consistency of glue. They’d all sat down, taken a bite, then looked at each other in silence for a moment, before bursting out laughing together.
Peter had been so overwhelmed by the emotion his laughter turned into crying. It had also been the first time he cried after moving in with them.
When Peter was young he used to sit in May’s lap and ask about her necklace, which had been a gift from Ben and said “to love and to cherish.” She had never taken it off, but she takes it off now, resting it across Peter’s folded hands, because there was nothing she’d ever love and cherish more than him.
Peter is buried next to Uncle Ben.
Ned places LEGO Darth Vader on the headstone.
Later, May is alone in the apartment. It feels too empty, too quiet without Peter listening to music or playing video games.
She takes some time to begin going through Peter’s things, sorting into boxes labeled “Keep” “Donate” and “Trow Out.” She finds several inventions, sketches, and designs. Old school assignments she couldn’t ever hope to understand. She thinks about how brilliant he was, and how he could have done so many amazing things if he’d only had the time.
She comes across Peter’s favorite T-shirt, faded and worn. Holding it to her chest, she breaks down. She never could have imagined the pain of losing a child. Any time she’d heard about someone young passing in the news she’d had to put it out of her mind, because the thought was just too much. No, Peter was not her biological child, but he had been the best thing that ever happened to her.
Now she had to continue to be his aunt without having a nephew to love anymore.
"'Never Have I Ever' is about to get a lot more interesting" in a sleepover with Nino, Alya, Adrien and Marinette Plsss ❤❤ I LOVE how you write^^
“Never Have I Ever is about to get a lot more interesting,” Nino said, watching Alya strip off a sock.
“Oh yeah,” Alya mocked, “please try not to get too turned on by my bare foot.”
“No promises,” Nino grinned.
“I thought you were supposed to play this game by holding up your fingers and the person with the most fingers up at the end wins,” Adrien grumbled, hunching his bare shoulders.
“Well, we’re playing the version where you strip off an article of clothing for each thing you’ve done,” Alya said.
“I feel like I’ve been unnecessarily picked on though.” Adrien looked longingly at his pile of stripped clothes. “I’m down to only, like, two more things and it isn’t my fault I’m the only model with blonde hair and green eyes who has ridden in a private jet.”
“Stop being a sore loser, dude,” Nino grinned. “Alya, I believe it’s your turn.”
“Never have I ever,” Alya paused to look around the group, eyes assessing. She locked in on Marinette, who seemed to be trying to make herself as small as possible on the other side of Adrien’s piled clothes. “Sewn a single stitch,” she smirked.
Marinette’s head shot up in betrayal.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Adrien muttered, sliding his belt through the loops and throwing it on the pile.
“We’re waiting, Marinette,” Alya goaded.
“Fine,” she sniffed, standing up and stealing a glance at Adrien, her cheeks turning pink. She deliberated for a moment before sliding her skirt down to the floor and quickly sitting back down.
“Interesting choice, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”
Marinette chose to ignore her now ex-best friend and looked around the room. “Never have I ever…made out in a cage at the zoo.”
Nino barked in laughter, pulling his shirt over his head. Alya muttered something about things said in confidence and yanked off her other sock.
Adrien nodded to her smugly.
“I’ll take this one,” Nino said. “Never have I ever worn any Ladybug or Chat Noir merchandise.”
“Low,” Alya muttered, wiggling out of her jeans. “You got me that shirt.”
“You got cocky, Agreste,” Adrien mumbled to himself, “that was your downfall.” He stood up and unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down his legs. He tossed the pants on the pile in frustration and sat back down in his black boxer briefs with his hands shielding his lap.
“Is someone trying to pretend like she doesn’t wear her Chat Noir jammies to bed?” Alya teased.
“Of course not,” Marinette said, pulling her shirt over her head and glaring at Alya. Alya tilted her head and Marinette followed it to see Adrien. His eyes were wide as he watched her, cheeks turning a dark red. Marinette squeaked and dropped back to the floor in her red bra and panty set.
Alya and Nino exchanged a look. “Wellllll, I think I’m going to go grab something to drink. Join me, Alya?”
“Sure.” She stood and met Nino by the door. “But first…” Alya swooped down and grabbed the pile of clothes in her arms. “Go! Go! Go!” She and Nino fell through the door, laughing and pulling it shut behind them.
Marinette and Adrien stared at the closed door with wide eyes. “I’m going to murder her,” Marinette whispered.
That Hokage Obito anon got me thinking: What if no one else is LEFT? Sure you've got plenty if dedicated, even decently skilled shinobi filling the ranks, but no one else who has the strategic mind and raw POWER to be a leader is left, ay least not in any condition to do so. That leaves Obito, who doesnt WANT it anymore, but it does put him in a position to research the hell out of how to fix everything. Like, say, going back in time to kick Zetsu in the teeth....
REALLY HOW DARE YOU
“No,” Obito says, flat and cold.
It’s testament to how much she’s
hardened over the last year that Hinata doesn’t even blink. She certainly doesn’t
waver, feet planted firmly on the other side of the bed and eyes fixed on him.
“Do you really think I would
come to you if there was any other option?” she asks quietly.
“Do you really think I care?” Obito
retorts, and he doesn’t look away from Sakura’s gaunt, wasted face, pale
against the hospital sheets.
There’s a long pause, and then a
soft pad of steps interrupted by the click of a crutch. Hinata limps forward
until she’s hovering over the bed as well, looking down at her friend, and her
mouth pulls into an unhappy slant, her pale eyes full of grief.
“The Clan Heads agreed,” she
tells him. “Unanimously. I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”
Obito snorts before he can help
it, both at the flicker of tired humor and the thought of calling the ragged
assortment of shinobi Clan Heads. They’re children, or just barely beyond it. The
children he fought in the last war, dragged into seats of power they’re not
ready for, and Obito isn’t going to be among them.
“Give it to Gai,” he says
instead, because Gai probably would have been Kakashi’s choice, if he’d
survived to take the hat back.
“I admire Gai greatly,” Hinata says
quietly, “but he’s not Hokage material. There are some decisions he won’t be
able to make, and they’re the ones we need
It’s true, though Obito doesn’t want
it to be. Gai is strategic, but only when immediately involved in things, and
he doesn’t have that streak of darkness in him that most shinobi do. It’s admirable,
but it means that he makes decisions based on the right thing to do and sentiment and good choices. That will kill them all more quickly than the enemy
could, right now.
A breath, and Hinata leans
forward, bracing a hand on the railing of the bed to meet Obito’s eyes. She holds
them steadily, sharp and intent, and there’s exhaustion in the lines of her
face but also a determination that echoes with painful familiarity.
“Naruto would have wanted it,”
she says, a killing blow.
Obito takes a breath, closing
his eyes. Naruto, who they found on the battlefield far too late to save. Naruto,
who Hinata screamed and wept over, even as Ino tried to drag her back. Naruto,
whose death drove Sasuke to recklessness that killed him within a week, and
left the burden of the Hokage’s position on Sakura, where it might as well have
“Please,” Hinata whispers, loud
in the silence of the room. She’s not crying, but Obito would feel better if
she were—the grief in her should be too much for any one body to contain. “You’re
a strategist, and you’re stronger than anyone left. You’re smart, calculating,
ruthless—you’re everything we need in a Hokage right now. I wouldn’t ask, I wouldn’t
want this, but Obito—you’re our only choice.”
The ache is overwhelming. Obito lets
himself fold forward, pressing his hands over his face. He doesn’t want this,
either. It was a dream, once, but.
Obito is three decades and a
thousand worlds away from the little boy who wanted acknowledgement, who would
have done anything to be Hokage and be seen.
Like this, with enemies at the gate and poison in the water, with all of the
Hidden Villages beset and their numbers dwindling, with no way to win and the only goal being to hold out as long as
possible until someone can figure out
who and what these creatures are—
This isn’t what Obito meant,
when he once said he wanted to be Hokage.
A sharp, shuddering breath, and Obito
scrubs his hands over his face. Damn Kakashi to hell and back, leaving him
alone like this. Damn him for dying at the start of all this, damn Naruto for
getting himself killed saving their forces, damn Sasuke for following him, and
damn Sakura for sacrificing herself to put up a barrier around Konoha. There are
only a handful of Konoha’s best remaining, and all of them are scarred and
tired and worn down. They’re dying, as a village.
But Obito—well. If there’s one
thing he’s good at, it’s surviving against all odds.
“Unanimously?” he asks, because
he’s spent the last five years a near-prisoner, and understandably so. Too valuable
to kill, repentant as he was, but too dangerous to let go free, with too many
sins on his head regardless. Kakashi had overseen his confinement, right up
until the battles started getting fiercer. Right up until Konoha started losing, which isn’t a thing that has
ever happened before. Konoha is the strongest of the villages, by far, and the
attacks on them are proportionately merciless.
“Unanimously,” Hinata confirms,
and Obito looks up at her. She isn’t wearing her hitai-ate, and the faded mark
of the Caged Bird Seal stands out against her skin, the short bob of her dark hair.
Hanabi had gotten Sakura to alter the seals, tie them to the Clan Head so that
her death would remove the seal entirely, and Obito wonders if Hinata has
forgiven her sister for that yet. For making plans for her death, rather than just
fighting to survive.
Hinata, he thinks sometimes, has
become a little too much like Naruto, after all these years. All his best
parts, and all his worst. It’s…comforting, even when it shouldn’t be.
It’s the reason he recognizes
the light in her eyes right now, the relief and buried joy. Hinata might present
the perfect appearance of a Hyuuga Clan Head to those around her, but they both
loved Naruto with the same ferocity, the same blind devotion. It leaves them
open to each other, and Obito should probably hate it, but he can’t bring himself
They’re both of them broken and
dimmed and fading, but Naruto was their sun even if his eyes were focused
elsewhere. Maybe it’s not a comfortable connection, but it’s what they have.
“What did you find?” he asks,
and knows it’s something. Something that’s given Hinata hope.
She takes a breath, doesn’t look
away from Obito’s mismatched eyes, Rinnegan and Sharingan both. “Sasuke had a
theory,” she says, and her mouth curls with faint pain at the name. “I found
his notes. He thought—the shadows. They could be remnants of Kaguya, working on
It makes a horrific kind of
sense, and Obito swallows, feeling his stomach turn. Kaguya and her influence,
targeting chakra, devouring life. It fits, even though he doesn’t want it to. “And?”
Hinata smiles, bare and tired,
and shifts her crutch out of the way as she carefully settles into the chair
across from him, with Sakura’s painful, rasping breaths between them. “I was
looking through the library,” she confesses, looking down at her folded hands,
and in the middle of a war as fierce as this one, it is a confession. They’re supposed to be sleeping, or training, or
fighting, with no time left for other things. “There were…references. To kinjutsus.
Kinjutsus that only the Hokage can access.”
Obito contemplates her for a
moment, considering. Konoha’s forbidden jutsus are by and large Tobirama’s
creations, requiring massive amounts of chakra but also pinpoint control, and
of the shinobi left in the village, Obito is probably the only one who can
manage both. “Specific kinjutsus, I assume,” he prompts.
Hinata’s smile gains an edge,
and she’s beautiful, worn but still fighting, grieving from the loss of so very
many people but still forging ahead. Obito’s seen her with Karin, wrapped
together with all the desperation of love in wartime, and he hopes it’s made
her happy even as he knows it will never be enough for anyone.
“Did you know another Uchiha had
Kamui?” she asks.
Obito blinks, taken aback. He hadn’t,
but then, Zetsu and Madara hadn’t been inclined to tell him much of anything,
and he hadn’t spent time in the Uchiha records whenever he managed to sneak
into Konoha. He eyes Hinata, raising a brow, and she actually laughs.
“The Nidaime recorded his
encounters with an Uchiha kunoichi who he thought could bend time when she
teleported,” she says. “And then he tried to recreate the ability. The Flying
Thunder God was the result, when he realized she was bending space, but before
Before that the Nidaime had been
experimenting with altering time, and
if anyone could manage it, it would be a mad genius like Tobirama.
Obito breathes in, shaky and
uncertain, and shakes himself. He thinks of it, of the applications and logistics,
of when and how and where they could step in to create the greatest number of
ripples, and then thinks about kicking Zetsu
in the teeth.
“I’m in,” he says, and the smile
that twists his face is all teeth. “As long as you’re coming with me.”
“And Karin,” Hinata says,
determined, and when Obito casts her a glance—because Hinata is a viciously selfish
creature, and it’s one of the things he likes best about her, but he’d like an
explanation for this particular idea—she tips her chin up and says, “She’s an Uzumaki.”
And really, that’s all the
justification anyone could need, Obito thinks, wry. With those chakra levels
and that brain, not to mention that will—
“She knows?” he asks.
Hinata smiles, just a little. “It
was her idea in the first place,” she says.
Yeah, looking for a time-travel
jutsu sounds like an Uzumaki solution, without a doubt. But Obito just snorts,
shaking his head, and pushes to his feet. One last glance at Sakura, a friend
and an ally and someone he’d never thought to like, but who had managed to earn
his admiration anyway, and then he steps around the bed and offers Hinata his
hand. She takes it, delicate pale fingers sliding into his scarred ones, and he
pulls her to her feet.
“I’ll take the hat,” he tells
her. “But only long enough to raid the vaults. And next time? Lead with that.”
Hinata laughs, short but warm with
pure relief, and grips his hand tightly. “Where?” she asks. “Or—when?”
Obito considers it. Three options,
depending on whether he and Karin together can gather enough chakra, but the
best… “Back to the beginning,” he says. “The Warring Clans era. We find Zetsu and
destroy him, and then Kaguya isn’t a problem anymore.”
She smiles, full of sharp edges
and blades in the dark, fractured pieces she’s only barely holding together. It’s
beautiful, like a red sun over a killing field. Obito thinks of stepping onto
the battlefield of the Warring Clans time with her, and grins right back, all
vicious humor and the promise of blood.
Maybe they can’t save their
world, not the way they want to, but this is might be the next best thing.
Summary: Life didn’t stop for Dean after all the tragic things that have happened to him but after a long day a little surprise is waiting for him.
A/N: Dean and the reader deserve a happy ending right? The song “Autumn Tree” inspired me to write this and this is the first time I tried to write without dialogue. I also changed the p.o.v. so it would fit better. This is the last part to this series. Enjoy!
Dean sat on
the front porch of the old cabin in the woods while petting the German Shepherd he had named Bo laying beside him. The warm autumn weather surrounded him and he took
deep breaths, inhaling the scent of the forest. Today felt different for some
reason and he couldn’t figure out what it was.
were falling through the trees and his loyal friend moved his head to rest it on
had passed since the day Dean had found out about the death of his love.
world was a lot different now than it had been then; it was now free from all
the monsters he had been hunting with his brother for all his life. The gates
to hell were closed and Chuck was back. Cas had returned to heaven and Dean
rarely got to see his best friend’s face nowadays.The family business had officially retired.
There were no more vampires roaming through America who needed their heads chopped off or wearwolfes which needed to be killed. The world was finally a safe place thanks to the two brothers who had fought side by side their entire lives.
was no longer Dean’s home. Nothing seemed like home to him since Sam hadn’t made
it on their last hunt together. As they took down the last monster wandering on
this earth, he took the hit.
Dean had always thought that he would be the one to go first. He had imagined a good life for Sam. He had always hoped his little
brother would find someone who loved him as much as Y/N had once loved Dean.
Before the younger Winchester took his last breath he had told him that he’d be
waiting for him just like Y/N had told him all those years ago. Having to let him go right before the finish line had left Dean angry and heartbroken for a long time.
Title: Lucky Author:phoenixflyinghigh Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4618 Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Cheerleader Louis, Nerd Harry, Nerd Harry Styles, Bottom Louis, Fluff and Smut Summary: When Harry had moved from London to New Jersey he had been prepared for bad spray tans and Regina George. He hadn’t been prepared to meet the best thing to ever happen to him.
If only he hadn’t worn an ugly brown vest covered in cat pee when he met him.
Thanks for the prompt, Savannah! You’re one of my writing idols! 💜 Here’s a bonus fic I wrote for the OT3 on this prompt a while back. mileven feels below!
Fever the one where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your body
Mike could barely stand to look at himself in the mirror, always keeping his eyes averted when he brushed his teeth or dressed for school in the mornings. It made him sick to see the loopy letters inscribed across his collar bone. Pale pink, like the dress she had worn, their neatness was almost a grandeur in and of itself; almost noble.
But Mike hated them, reluctant to read the reality of his loss as it was, laid bare on his freckled skin.
He supposed as far as last words went, those were the best he could have hoped for. They were personal and crammed with finality. They were a thank you and a well-wish. But they were the last thing Eleven had ever said—would ever say—to him, and Mike could not accept that.
They should have had more time.
He took to wearing heavy sweaters that gathered tightly around his neck, or zipping his hoodies up all the way, using the winter weather as an excuse. Though the cold he felt was not one to be fended off with wool and warm clothing.
For months, he was careful not to catch a glimpse of anything below his chin or above his elbows. Eleven’s voice still ran through his head on a loop, the sadness and defeat and surety of her last words burnt into his memory. There was no point in having them burnt onto his skin as well.
In February, his perpetual chill turned to a high fever, sweat beading under his hairline, cheeks flushed red. Mike muttered in his sleep, the same name always on his lips. He dreamt strange visions, the same face always in his mind.
It was Nancy who made the shocking—but oh so relieving—discovery. Slipping into her baby brother’s room with a cool, damp cloth, she watched him writhe in his restless sleep. Anxious pity filled her stomach—until she noticed the way his t-shirt bunched up, its neck pulled low to reveal a very blank collar bone.
Nancy dropped the cloth and rushed forward, shaking Mike out of whatever fever dream gripped him.
“It’s gone,” she whispered, her hands shaking despite the fact she had barely known Eleven, “Your soulmark is gone.”
Mike’s eyes opened slowly at first, then all at once. He was flying out of bed before Nancy could warn him to move carefully, standing on weak legs in front of his mirror, pulling his shirt down at the collar.
There was nothing there. Mike felt tears well in his eyes and turned back to his sister; she was there to steady him and guide him back to bed.
Mike’s throat was parched and his words came out thickly. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy shook her head. She had never heard of this happening before. It was frightening; exciting.
Quietly, Mike began to laugh. Because, if soulmates were as real as everyone said they were, this could only mean one thing—Eleven was alive.
“Rafe,” you said carefully, feeling your stomach twist and turn into an abundance of knots.
“(Y/N),” he acknowledged, nodding his head. The silence between the two of you was suddenly awkward; it’d been many years since the two of you had seen each other, and you hadn’t exactly left on the best of terms. “You look well.”
You felt heat crawl up your neck as you took in the sight of Rafe in his white tux, and your mind drifted to your once probable wedding. Would he have worn something like this? “As do you, Alder,”
“I was wondering if I’d ever see your face around these sorts of things again,” Rafe admitted, a small smile on his face as he suddenly looked towards the ground, adjusting his grip on his scotch glass. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, it has,” you sighed, folding your arms over.
“Would you like a drink?” He offered, looking slightly sentimental and genuine, and for a brief moment, you felt something set alight inside of you and you smiled.
“Yes; thank you,” you agreed, smiling at him sweetly as he walked away. The moment he was out of sight, you let out a huff of air, feeling your skin turn hot. “Did you hear that?” You questioned quietly, adjusting your earpiece quietly.
“Yeah,” Nate responded first, “Rafe’s here.”
You chewed on your lip, suddenly feeling very torn. The trio had no real awareness of your history with Rafe, though knew you had been somewhat romantic but thought you had lost touch altogether after Sam’s presumed death.
“Sounds like he’s getting you a drink,” Sam added, “he’s into you.”
“I should hope so,” you thought, twiddling your ring finger. A warm, gentle hand lay on your shoulder and you turned, being greeted with that smug assholes grin again, his hand holding out a flute of champagne for you.
“Thank you,” you smiled, taking the drink and immediately having a sip. “You know, I was thinking,”
“Yes? About what?” Rafe questioned, turning his body toward you. His gaze was not subtle as he looked you up and down again, and you shifted your arms a little to express your discomfort.
“I haven’t seen you in forever and we didn’t leave on the greatest of terms, really,” you decided, biting on your nude-painted lip. “And I suppose I should explain everything to you before it get’s messy.”
“Messy?” Rafe laughed. “Why would it get mess-”
Noticing how his voice trailed off and his eyes darted aside, you turned your head to realise that he’d spotted Sully, who was caught up in a conversation with a woman you didn’t recognise. You felt your heart sink in your chest.
He moved past you swiftly, heading casually towards your companion.
“Oh. Like, “dead”, out?” The woman asked, her eyes a little wider with curiosity than when you had first stolen a glance from her.
“Oh, no. More like “retired”,” Sully said with a smile. “Last I heard, he settled down, got married.”
“Hm,” Nadine responded, taking a sip from her drink.
“Well, then he might as well be dead, right?” Rafe laughed, shaking Sullivan’s hand.
“Excuse me,” you said quietly, stepping aside and taking yourself to the bathroom, fiddling with your hand again before uneasily clutching the marble counter of the sinks.
“Everything alright?” You heard Nate ask. “Sounded ‘messy’.”
“Hmm,” you responded, “I’m sorry, Nate.”
He was quiet for a while. He hadn’t known about you and Rafe, nor had the other two. It’d probably hurt their feelings, after everything. You couldn’t help the way you felt about him, and you desperately hoped that Nate understood that.
“It’s okay,” he said, finally. “He’s not worth your time.”
“I don’t know, Nate,” you breathed out, clutching the marble edges of the sink. “We were engaged.”
“Aw, Jesus, (Y/N),” Nate cussed. “How on Earth did you and him-”
“The auctions starting,” Sully warned quietly.
“What’re you going to do, (Y/N)?” Sam asked.
Suddenly you felt extremely dramatic. Here you were, a probable asset to the trio who desperately needed as much help as they could. You clenched your fists and readjusted your posture.
“Don’t worry about me,” you said, “just get on with the plan. He’s not worth my time, anyway. Prick.”
“Well get on out here, the assholes started bidding,” Sully ushered you. You quickly glanced over at yourself in the mirror before frowning and turning out and heading back towards the auction, snatching up a spare paddle that was dotted around the room.
“Do we have any other bids?” The lady asked.
Sully raised his paddle.
“We have one hundred thousand euros in the room,” she announced, to which the crowd stared at Sully, and then back to Rafe who lifted his paddle, a lace of annoyance to his face.
The bidding continued to rise, until Sully began to hesitate. Stealing a glance from Rafe, who noticed you in the room, you lifted your paddle.
“Two hundred thousand euros,” the lady noticed, nodding towards you as a spotlight shone towards you.
“Five hundred thousand euros; let’s get this show on the road,” Rafe said, and you smiled to yourself. It was a small victory and you were going to take it, and-
The lights suddenly shut off, and in your rushed panic of emotions towards Rafe, your feet stood frozen solid, unable to move. As the lights came back on, his eyes turned towards the crucifix which everybody realised with a gasp that it’d vanished.
In the panicked flurry of the crowd, Rafe immediately made his way towards you and snatched your wrist, dragging you out of sight before throwing his paddle to the ground with a loud clatter.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He spat, his grip still hard on your wrist until you yanked it away. You suddenly felt very immature for the little stunt you had just pulled before quickly remembering why you did it. It was for Sam’s freedom, right?
“You don’t get to talk to me like that, Rafe,” you said firmly, stepping backwards. “We’re done here.”
“We are not done here,” he said, “you don’t get to make the decisions anymore.”
“We’re leaving,” he grabbed your arm again, pulling you with him. “And there is no way on hell I am letting you go back to that triage of fools with all that you know.”
“What on Earth do you mean?” You asked.
“Everything I told you,” Rafe’s grip tightened, “everything about Henry damn Avery and his goddamn ship.”
“I know that you might be a little obsessed with his treasure, Rafe,” you shook your head, “but that doesn’t interest me. I’m sorry, but we are done here.”
“You are not leaving without me-”
“Get your hands off of me,” you warned, pushing him. You cursed yourself for having tried to give him a chance not that long ago. What the hell was going on in your head?
“Shit, (Y/N), what’s going on?” Nate asked, his voice staticy and distant. “We need to get out of here!”
“You are not leaving me again,” Rafe said, less angrily, his hair slightly mussed from where he had pulled at it from stress. His eyebrows furrowed together and your breath hitched, the closeness alarming and frightening you. In that brief moment, you made a decision.
“Go without me,” you said hurriedly, reaching for your earpiece. You could handle Rafe, you knew him better than anyone. As long as the trio got out in one piece, you’d be happy.
“What? (Y/N)?” Sam called.
You ripped the earpiece out.
“If I come with you,” you took in a sharp breath, “you leave them be.”
Rafe hesitated. “I make no promises.”
You narrowed your eyes, “Rafe.” You warned.
“Look- fine. I won’t kill them,” he said, “good enough?”
Sighing, you realised that’s all you were going to get out of him for now. Nodding your head, you went with him.
Rank the primarchs, 1-18 (or 19 depending on Alpha Legion) in terms of hot.
Let it be said that:
One, I have not read a lot of lore. So my knowledge of the Primarchs per se are not extensive. Some are lower on the list than others and have less babbling because I don’t know them that well.
Two, I am extremely biased. I’m so biased that I should never be invited to judge a beauty pageant. I like who I like from what I know. Which isn’t a lot. I don’t claim to be an expert on anything. I answered a question sent to me. My personal opinion is just that. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Three, of those I do not know as well I just ranked on boinkability. Yes that is a term. I think. I could’ve just made it up.
Four, you can beg to disagree and call me a heretic. ^_^ You can debate me, dispute with me, all is well. Make your own list. I would love to read about it. Now, let the insanity commence.
1. Magnus the Red…have you not seen my blog? And my header? And my sidebar? And my OC? And my 4 chapter fanfic (which should be 5 by now but damn writer’s block) All indicating my love for the Big Red, tragic mess of a sexy nerd. Just his hair alone is worth writing porn about. Have you seen his shirtless model? That butt window? The blanket of a loin cloth that’s probably not even enough to conceal what is hiding behind it? O M G. While he may not have the prettiest face (that honor belongs to Sanguinius, honestly) or the bulkiest of builds (Vulkan I think), it’s the overall package that he comes in makes him, in my uber-biased eyesight the sexiest piece of masculine meat that graced the covers of a BL book. He’s intelligent, confident, and he genuinely cares about his Legion, his brothers and his Father. He’s man enough to admit his mistakes and pay for them. Is he perfect? Goodness no. But he’s perfect for me. @askthecrimsonking
2. Sanguinius...is this even a question? LOOK AT HIM. Look at the beautiful, perfect, angelic boy. That hair. Regardless of what color it came in. Those gorgeous wings. Whatever color they come in (ah, come on BL guys, make up your mind). He’s not only handsome, but he is kind (yeeea forget about the black rage and the red thirst…but maybe I can overlook that). He has a good heart. Yes I’m a sucker for a guy with long hair and a heart. So sue me (okay seriously don’t, but you know what I meant). I can overlook the sausage curls (that’s what straightening irons are for) but who cares about that when you’re jumping his bones (and he’s actively trying to dodge you? Too cute, Sansan). @asksanguinius40k
3. Roboute Guilliman…This choice climbed up from somewhere down the middle, LOL. Yes he has endeared himself to me the last few months (thanks in no small part to @ultramarineblues and @possiblyhereticalultramarine) . When I first got into w40k I was told he was one dimensional and blander than a post-surgical diet. But I find that not to be the case. To quote @ultramarineblues“So what if he’s vanilla? It can still be good vanilla.” He’s a good man, an honorable man, and all the crazy fluff us fans made gave him a bit more dimension, in my biased, egotistical opinion. Also, I’m a sucker for a blue-eyed blonde (My track record is ridiculous). His looks make him hot. His character makes him even hotter. @askrobouteguilliman40k
4. Leman Russ...it’s the braids. It’s got to be. How many men do you know can wear a braid and a ponytail and still look like he can ravage you both on the field and in the sack? Those fangs! Oooooh but the things I can imagine him doing with it. He’s the kind of man who would take you out on a date (or a one night stand) and you KNOW you are going to have fun in this lifetime and the next. He is that awesome. He looks good whether he’s a ginger, blonde or brunette. Though I like golden-haired Russ the best. I imagine he howls when he gets stimulated. He is literally a sexy beast, the one you want to do all the nasty little things your heart desires. Tie you down and make you…okay Imma stop now before this gets out of hand. @asklemanruss40k
Cecilia Murillo Valdez
5. Corvus Corax…did I ever tell you folks I have a thing for long hair? Yes, yes I do. Especially when it is worn well. And pretty, and smooth and…okay I’m going off track. There’s not a lot I know about Corvus, other than he can turn invisible (OMG THE KINKY POSSIBILITIES…..SHAAADDDDUP) and that he’s a pretty laid back, cool, guy who doesn’t seem to have a beef with anybody. He’s chill, and I bet he wouldn’t mind experimenting, LOL. @asktheravenlord
6. Konrad Curze…Oh you other, sad, tragic mess. I would so jump on you. Because really you’re pretty handsome in a creepy kind of way. Also I’m a fan of Batman. Well that and I really want to give you a hug, put you in a warm, foamy bath and make you some soup even if you probably want to hang me over the clothesline in the most unflattering fashion. But wait…I didn’t do anything wrong! I can do everything right if you let me ;-) @askkonradcurze
7. Lion El Johnson…He’d be higher on this list if he wasn’t such a wet blanket. Seriously Lion! Objectively he’s very handsome (see blonde boy comment up there), but how long can you last until the grumpiness gets to you? I want to have fun, boy! Now smile a little and act like you want a piece of good ass, k? He does kinda look like he would go for a little lite S & M, or a threesome. In secret. In a cave. That’s in a forest somewhere… @asklionjonson
8. Angron…Oh oh Angron. You’ve had it bad, like some of your brothers. Its unfortunate. But even with the Butcher’s nails you are a fairly fine specimen too. The caring part of me wants to take you aside and give you lots of hugs and TLC (that’s Alise’s job of course @sandvichette) but no, you are lovable in a tragic way. I’m sure you look smokin’ in your gladiator garb, however it may look like. I bet you carry it well. Especially when you’re swinging your sword. No, not THAT sword. Get out of my gutter brain…eeeeeep.
9. Jaghatai Khan...I’m not a big fan of topknots but you carry it fantastic, man. And you look like Jason Momoa. Or Ken Watanabe. Maybe both. Plus, they’re both hot. You’re also smart and witty. Like Khal Drogo and Tyrion Lannister had a lovechild (okay did I just give you a bad visual? Sorry that was not intentional). Plus you ride bikes. HOT! But you also have the attention span of a 3 year old. Who ate a sugar bomb. I have a feeling your encounters maybe wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am-see-you-later-I’m-chasing-after-the-eldar-because-I-hear-they-do-sexy-cray-cray-things. @ask-jaghatai-khan
10. Vulkan…I’m a sucker for a nice guy. I really am. He’s one of them. I bet he’s sweet and likes to cuddle. But he probably takes up the whole bed. But have you seen those abs? And pecs? Is it true you lost your mind? I hope you find it soon. Because an unstable giant is an unstable giant and…yeah that’s scary. Is it true that you like fire? Is that a fan headcanon? I have a fear you will set the bed on fire…hopefully in a good way. @ask-the-lord-of-drakes
11. Perturabo...Another nerd. I swear it’s genetic. You’re cute, and you’re very smart and talented and severely underappreciated. I’m just scared of your cybernetic hairdo. I feel like I’m going to get electrocuted if I ran my hands through your hair. Which isn’t stimulating, unless we’re talking about burns. I also hear you’re salty as heck. I even started calling you Salturabo. You’re gonna be bad for my blood pressure. In more ways than one.. @ask-perturabo
12. Rogal Dorn...you’re not low on the list because you’re not eye candy (coz you do look like Soldier76’s hot, older brother), but because I know my dear friend @mrsdorn adores you with all her heart and I feel like a traitor. Also because you were mean to Sigismund. They say you have tight arse cheeks though LOL.
13. Fulgrim…Okay you’re pretty. But you’re also extremely vain. Who the heck wants to boink a guy who’s prettier than them? Okay I would, but still! The man is so full of himself there is room for nothing but Ferrus Manus and his…iron hands, hahahahaha. @fulgrim-the-phoenician
Art by @twopunch
14. Ferrus Manus…If manly man is your type, yes, he is your man! (I used that word too many times) The man is skilled with his hands. Both hands. I bet he can do a lot of amazing things with them. He looks like he likes to dish it rough too. Now I’m wondering if I should put him higher than Fulgrim. He has a short fuse though? Yeah that’s a bit of a de-fizzler. I would run the minute he raises his voice because I have issues with someone who used to yell at me (okay that escalated fast didn’t it?) @askferrusmanus40k
15. Alpharius/Omegron…seriously who can tell which is what? I can’t. My vision is as good as the Crimson King’s without the fancy psyker magic. But secrecy can be fun. You guys might be fun to do RPG blindfolds with. Because. Reasons. The novelty may wear off after a while. A very long while. I still don’t get you. Both of you. Any of you. You’re so confusing. That takes your hotness down a notch. Okay a few notches. @ask-alpharius
16. Horus…Heresy. Granted he has his good points, and objectively he may be good looking and charming and is friends with every other person on this list. But…man the heresy. Instant turn off. My beautiful Red Boi tried to save your ass because he cares about you and what the bloody fuck did you do to him, you oversized, heretical man-baby with daddy issues? Why are you not on the bottom of this list? One, because I blame Lorgar just a hair (pun intended) more than you, and two you actually may have a hair (stop with the stupid puns already) of regret because you killed my beautiful angel who loved you too, you piece of Chaos-infused, overrated spoiled brat.
17. Lorgar…Religious zealot. Any lady boner I might have died with those two words. Though I do feel kinda sorry for your background (see Konrad Curze)…I still blame you for the heresy you little shit. Well you’re not tiny so…big shit? That sounds even worse. Either way…ehm no. The only reason you’re not at the bottom of this pile is because of your brotherly love for Angron. And you’re actually good friends with my number one man. Also you’re a scholar and a poet and a nerd. So you have SOME redeeming factors. Maybe.
18. Mortarion…where do I even start? The stench? The grumpiness? The overall salty behavior? Granted he did not have the greatest of backgrounds but COME ON Morty. That betrayal at the Council of Nikaea put the nail in the coffin of any desire I may feel for your smelly carcass. Russ may have razed Prospero but that’s because he got tricked by Horus (and he actually gave Magnus an out…which he didn’t receive but that’s another story). You….you didn’t have to turn on your brother like that. Make him feel like shit. For being HIMSELF. Seriously! You’re number 18 because you messed with my number ONE man.
Sorry not everyone had pics. My internet was being an idiot. I hope you enjoyed my foolishness ^_^
A/n- it’s finally here! thanks for being patient. i hope you dont kill me lolol also s/o to vik ( @nightsspentthinking ) for finding out what zach’s moms name was lol
You shook your head as the guy, whom you thought was Zach, stared at you.
“I’m sorry,” you mutter as you quickly turn around.
I’m literally going insane.
You stood in line at the Starbucks, waiting to get a drink that would hopefully raise your spirits. You were just about to order when your phone rang. You muttered another sorry before stepping out of line and answering your phone.
“Y/n, you cant leave.” He begged.
“Don’t do this. My plane will be here soon.” You sighed, Corbyn was like your brother. Hurting him hurt you.
“No, you don’t understa-“ he began.
“Please stop. I cant stay here. It’s too much. There’s nothing you can say that will make me stay.”
“Are you sure about that?” He asked.
You straightened your back even though he couldn’t see you.
“Yes?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but it did.
“Okay,” he takes a deep breath. “Zach and Jonah are in the hospital.”
You dragged your suitcase behind you through the sliding glass doors.
“Hi, I’m here for Zach Herron and Jonah Marais.” You smile to the lady at the desk who quickly types on her keyboard.
“Are you family?” She asks, not looking up.
“Uh… yeah. Jonah’s my brother.” One little lie couldn’t hurt, right?
She scoffs but stands anyways, “Wait here.”
She turns a corner and disappears for about 5 minutes,. When she comes back, Jack is following her.
“Jack,” you sigh, tears brimming your eyes. You fling yourself into his arms and he holds you tight. “Please.”
“Hey,” he rubbed your back. “They’re okay.”
Jack lets go of you, but keeps an arm around your shoulders.
“Remember what I said,” the nurse tells the curly boy.
He nods, “If we don’t cause a problem, then we can stay.”
She smiles at you two and Jack begins to guide you down an empty hall.
“Are they awake?” You ask.
“Not yet,” he says quietly.
“Like at all?” you stop walking.
“No. The doctors aren’t sure if he’ll wake up…” he trails off.
“Oh my god,” the tears begin to fall as you lean against a wall. “This is all my fault. I did this.”
“Don’t say that,“ Jack grabs your hand. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. Okay, Y/n? This. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”
You shake your head, “Bu-but what if he never wakes up?”
“Don’t think about that. Just go in there and be with him,” Jack slowly starts to move down the hall, leading you towards your best friend.
He stops at a door that read 118.
“You ready?” Jack asks.
“No,” you breathe in.
“Do you want to wait?”
You shake your head, “No. I want to see them.”
He nods and opens the door, motioning for you to enter first.
THe first thing you see is Zach. He’s attached to so many things and his eyes are closed. His leg is being held up by a suspension. HE has a tube down his thoat.
You bring your hand to your mouth, trying to silence your cries. His chest is slowly rising and falling. That’s the only thing that’s keeping you from completely breaking down.
Next, you see Corbyn. He’s sitting next to Jonah’s bed, scrolling through his phone. Jonah is sat up in a hospital bed, he has a cast on his left arm and a wrap around his head. He smiles when he sees you.
“Y/n, hi.” He lifts up his right arm, silently asking for a hug. You walk over to him and let him half envelope you in a hug. He’s warm.
You sigh, “Jonah.”
“Don’t. I’m okay. We’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” you say anyways.
He rubs your arm soothingly. You look around, “Where’s Daniel?”
“He went to the airport to pick up Zach’s family,” Corbyn answers.
You snuggle into Jonah, closing your eyes. The monitor that’s hooked up to Zach begins beating rapidly. You jump up as Jack runs into the hall.
“Someone help!” Jack yells.
Corbyn grabs you as you watch Zach begin to shake. Doctors begin to fill the room as the blonde tries to move you.
“Y/n, we have to leave.”
“No! Zach please! Don’t leave! Zach please!” you scream.
“SOMEONE GET HER OUT OF HERE!” A doctor yells.
Both Corbyn and Jack had to pull you out of that room.
It had only been about 6 minutes of sitting in the waiting room. The doctor and two nurses came out and you three immediately stood up. You grabbed each of the boys hand and squeezed.
“Zach woke up but when he realized there was a tube in his mouth he started to panic which put his body into overdrive.”
“SO he’s okay?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” you all three sighed. “But-”
“But what?” Corbyn asked, squeezing your hand.
“Zach’s body needs time to recover and if he gets worked up then it’ll cause his body to go into overdrive and we’ll have to do all of that again.”
“What are you saying?” you asked.
“Don’t upset him. Don’t excite him. Just be there.” With that the doctor walked off.
You started crying, “So I cant see him?”
“Y/n, it’ll be fine.” Jack said.
“Jack,” Corbyn started.
“The last time they saw each other Zach made it very clear…” the blonde trailed off.
“It’s okay,” you wiped your tears and sat down. “You guys go make sure he’s okay.”
The boys walked down the hall and you texted Jonah. You two began playing iMessage games to keep each other busy. You were about to win the game of pool when Daniel and Zach’s family walked in.
“Y/n?” Daniel asked, hugging you.
“Hi,” you said and waved to his family.
“Why aren’t you in there with the boys?” Myta asked.
“I-uh-we- Zach and I got into a fight..” you said, trying to make this as least awkward as possible.
“Oh,” was all she said.
“Can we go see Zach mommy?” Reese tugged on her moms shirt.
“Yes, lets go. Daniel?” She asked.
Daniel led the family down the same hallway Jack and Corbyn went down about 15 minutes ago. You sat back down and began scrolling through various social medias to keep you occupied.
“Y/n?” you looked up and saw Myta standing in the entry way of the hall.
“Yeah?” your heart began racing. Did Zach want you to leave?
“Zach wants to see you.”
“Really?” you stand up immediately.
She nods, “He’s been asking about you for the past 5 minutes.”
You follow her down the hall.
“Did Zach tell you what happened?” The question had been on your mind since everything blew up.
“Tell me what?”
You scoffed lightly, “Why we got into a fight.”
“No..” she said and you sighed.
“But he didn’t need to,” she added right as you got to the door.
“Of course, it’s the same way I acted around Josh when I was your age.”
Before you could say anything else, Myta opened the door. You walked in behind her. Corbyn, Jack and Daniel stood up as well as Reese and Ryan.
“Let’s go get some food guys,” Daniel said. You smiled and looked at Jonah.
“I can’t move but I’ll put in headphones,” he smiled, grabbing his phone.
You hadn’t looked at Zach yet. You didn’t want to cry, but you knew as soon as you locked eyes, the tears would be streaming.
Josh and Myta quietly slipped out of the room and you were left alone with Zach.
“Y/n,” he said quietly which caused you to look at him.
Oh my God.
He looked worn out and tired. He looked like he had been through hell. And it was all your fault.
“Oh Zach,” you cried into your hands.
“No, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” he begged.
You walked over to his bed, “I am so sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault. It’s the dumbass who ran a red light.”
“But you wouldn’t have been in the car if-”
“If I hadn’t treated you like crap.” he interrupted you. “Y/n, you are my best friend. And I am so sorry that I ever thought you weren’t. You’ve been here for this entire thing and I’d be lost without you and I am so so so sorry that I ever made you feel like I didn’t care about you.”
Tears began streaming down his face and you grabbed his hand. “Calm down Zach, you have to stay calm.”
“Please, don’t ever leave me again. I need my best friend.”
You smile sadly, “Of course.”
It may be selfish, but you were somewhat sad that Zach didn’t like you back. You were behind thankful that he was safe but it saddened you that Zach only say you as a best friend. However, you weren’t going to risk it again. You would be the best friend he needed. You weren’t going to let your feelings get between you two again.
Everyone had made their way back into the room not long after Zach and you had made up. Everyone had been laughing and talking about anything and everything.
Reese and Ryan had fallen asleep while the three mobile boys had gone to get food for all of you. Myta and Josh were calling around to see if any hotels were available.
You were sat next to Zach scrolling through your phones.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“What?” you whispered back.
“Do you know what was the first thing that I thought when we got hit?” he asked.
“Obviously not, but i’ll guess anyways.” you giggled and thought. “Hmm, was it about pizza?”
He laughed, “No.”
“I don’t know, tell me.”
“It was that I never got the chance to tell you that I love you,” he looked at you.
Your heart stopped, “Aww Zach. I love you too.”
You smiled and went back to scrolling through your phone.
You raised an eyebrow at him, “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean I love you.” He looked at you, eyes filled with fear.
“I didn’t realize it at first. I was scared and afraid that if we got together we’d ruin everything. But- but then..” he paused. “When we got hit, I thought i was gonna die. And the only person i wanted to see was you, so i could tell you. Y/n, you mean everything to me and I love you.”
You let out a small breath, “What are you saying Zach?”
“I’m saying that I want to be more than your best friend.”
A tear fell down your cheek as you took in a deep breath.
“I swear to god if this is a prank, I’ll kill you.”
He laughed lightly, “I’m not that cruel Y/n.”
You looked at him and smile.
“So?” he grabbed your hand.
“I would love to be more than your best friend, Zach.”
the best and warmest thing you’ve ever had because he’s just genuinely good at it
he doesn’t like, run around hugging all his friends and acquaintances, but it’s a good gender-neutral way of showing affection and he just likes it, those two or three seconds of solid, affectionate contact
he’s not all edge and muscle like Hanzo is, he’s sturdy strength under a little bit of softness and wrapped up in worn-out flannel shirts and a fluffy serape, and he knows that a good hug is firm but knows how not to overdo it, some balance between a bear hug and something a little less, and no matter what you’re surrounded on all sides by something soft
This is a follow up to The Investiture/The Crumbling of Order. It was initially something else, but I am so much happier with this, even if it’s really not perfect. I went with something light on description, and heavy on dialogue.
Riza tugged on her skirt self consciously. It wasn’t as short as Rebecca had tried to imply (it did cover everything, and wasn’t actually anywhere close to being a belt), but it was shorter than she remembered it being when she’d tried it on in the store, and it was definitely shorter than anything else she owned.
Ronan’s skin was tacky with sweat by the time they reached the little alcove in the mountain he’d dragged Adam out to. Adam, for his part, looked fucking amazing and just a little glistening and Ronan had half a mind to shove him off the cliff. He didn’t. Instead, he shrugged his bag off his shoulder and grabbed some of the blankets he’d brought and began to lay them out.
“Dad used to bring us up here all the time,” he explained as he worked. He took the larger comforter from Adam without looking and laid it across the other blankets before throwing himself down on them with a content sigh. He could feel his muscles unwinding and loosening and it felt like coming home.