#“i hope you die/i hope we both die” and the explosion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seresinhangmanjake · 4 months ago

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What if feyd's wife brought up the idea of having another child? How will he react? I loved his boy and all of your fics btw. You're a great writer!!!

Feyd-Rautha x wife!reader

Summary: You want another baby, but after what happened with your first pregnancy and birth, Feyd is hesitant.

Warnings/Notes: Thank you for your kind comments, anon. I hope you like this! Mentions of smutty stuff but not anything extreme. I'm still gonna go with 18+ though. I don't think there's anything else. Typos, I'm sure. This is also part of the His series, but you don't have to read it first.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Your bottom lip is worn raw. You’ve spent three hours nibbling on the delicate skin as you stare at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise. When it finally does, your little boy stirs in the bed between you and Feyd—nightmares, poor thing—but he quickly settles back into sleep, his lips parted with light snores.

Iron seeps onto your tongue. Swiping your finger over your mouth, it pulls back coated in red. “Wonderful,” you mutter.

“What did you do?” Your husband asks, making you gasp and shoot up in bed. He chuckles, his brow drawing close at your skittishness. Careful not to disturb Fionn, he pulls back the covers and walks over to your side. His palm cups your chin. His thumb runs over your lip, collecting a droplet before sticking it in his mouth with a wicked grin that makes you playfully roll your eyes. “Morning,” he says, leaning in to kiss you.

You press a peck to his lips. “Morning.”

“That’s all I get?”

You debate not doing this, not dragging down another morning, but you can’t help it. It's an impulse at this point. Unable to be contained.

“I want to talk about it,” you say.

Feyd’s features solidify into stone and he straightens his spine. “We already talked about it,” he replies before turning for the bathroom. You hop up and follow after him, closing the door behind you as Feyd twists a knob so water can cascade into the deep tub.

“I want to talk about it again.” Ignoring you, he puts his hand under the water to test its warmth. “I’m not going to let it go.”

“No, you’re not, are you.”

“You honestly don’t want another one?”

“What I want is my wife alive,” he says as he strips off his silken sleep pants. “I already had to watch you die once.”

“I didn’t die.”

Feyd’s chest inflates. He’s been holding in an explosion for days and you don’t know how long he can manage that. “Fionn won’t be up for hours,” he says, getting into the tub and finding a comfortable position. “Come join me.”

“Feyd–”

“Clothes off.”

You sigh and slide the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders until it falls to your feet. With your hand in Feyd’s, you step into the pool of heated water and get cozy with your back to his chest. You lean your head against his shoulder as he takes hold of both of your hands, his fingers playing with yours.

“I didn’t die,” you remind him, keeping a softness to your voice. You tilt your chin back and plant a kiss on his jawline to ease the truth of your argument so it doesn’t induce a bout of rage. You’re good at that, after years of dealing with his fits.

“I thought you did,” he says. “For a moment, I felt it as if you did.”

“I know, but–”

“What if it were me?” he says, and your heart leaps into your throat at the suggestion. “Would you want me doing something again that almost killed me the first time?”

That's not exactly fair, and you want so desperately to spit those words right back at him. It’s not as if you haven’t had to catch your breath once or twice when he goes up against a prisoner who has not yet lost the skills that came from years of training on their home planet. You’ve cleaned up a few nicks on your husband’s skin from a blade, and yet, he continues to fight without you saying a word about it. Even if it went against your wishes, he would continue.

“I watch you in the arena all the time,” you tell him.

“That’s not the same. You know I’m going to survive,” he says, and you hate that you can’t argue his point because you do know that. He’s too skilled. The nearest he’s come to serious harm—harm that would not have even come close to resulting in his death—was against an Atreides. And while it was a harder fought duel, there was nothing sloppy about it. Feyd still ended the life of that man with the beautiful maneuvers of a practiced warrior.

Reaching for the last bit of logic you can, you say, “You don’t know that I won’t survive.”

Your husband groans, a rumble that vibrates against your back. “I don’t know that you will,” he says. “Don’t you understand that? I need you. Fionn needs you.”

“Feyd–”

“I love you and you would dare to leave me. You’re fighting me on this for the second time now.”

You swallow hard, trying to remove the lump in your throat, before you twist your body so you’re facing him. The water sloshes over the edge of the tub as your legs straddle his hips, but neither of you give the mess and ounce of attention. Your fingers weave at the back of his neck.

“I’m not leaving you,” you tell him. “I’m not leaving Fionn. I just want to bring more into our lives.”

“We don’t need more,” he says. “I don’t want more.”

His words poke a needle through your chest and into pumping organ behind your ribcage. “At all? You’ve never imagined it? A brother for Fionn? A little girl you could train to be as strong as you?”

Feyd’s eyes fall from yours. His fingers tighten at your waist. “Stop it,” he demands, and by the way he continues to avoid your stare you suddenly see that he has, in fact, thought about it; that it has been considered. All this time, you’ve assumed he brushed off the idea without so much as bothering to picture what another child would be like for your little family. But no. You were wrong. And you wonder what images of that future he’s conjured up in that mind of his. What scenarios he’s denied the possibility of simply because he is scared.

“You have imagined it.”

Feyd huffs. “So what?”

“What’s it like?”

“Without you?” he asks. “Miserable.”

“And with me?”

Your husband takes a deep breath that exhales as a slow but heavy stream of air through his nose. “I told you to stop.”

“I can’t.” You press your forehead into his. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you in closer. “Feyd, I can’t. Can’t we just try?”

Feyd leans back and looks up at you, examining your features with an intensity that suggests he doesn’t already know the shapes and planes of your face by memory. It brings forth a blush that heats your cheeks; a blush he’s always able to work out of you, one way or another, even after nearly seven years together. It makes you want to make your baby right now, and if he agreed, and if your son was not sleeping just in the other room, you would. You’d touch him and harden him and slide down onto him, writhing and shifting your hips until he was groaning and filling you.

“Please,” you whisper. Your hands plant on his cheeks. Your thumbs run across the sharp edges of his cheekbones and you move in to capture his lips in a kiss that then travels to his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Please,” you say between more kisses. You say it again, punctuating the word with a little nibble on his collarbone.

Feyd shifts underneath you. You can feel him grow thicker against your core. With a suck in of air, he pushes your hips down harder onto his lap, but then he holds you still. And it’s for the best. You weren’t trying to start something anyway, not here, not now.

“We’ll talk to the doctor,” he says as you rest your head into the crook of his neck. Relief floods your whole body. “But if he says no, then it’s not happening. And if he says yes but then something happens to you, I’m killing him, so you should be prepared for that.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” you swear to him. And you do believe that, genuinely, in your heart of hearts. “And I’m always prepared for you to end someone's life. I wouldn't have married you if I thought you'd be any different.”

Feyd almost chuckles. “You didn't have a choice in marrying me.”

“Yes, but I wanted to marry you anyway,” you tell him. “Murder and all.”

---

A/N: thank you for reading. Let me know what you think. If you have any ideas or thoughts on the His series, I am open for requests.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #austin butler #dune 2

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soulsforsales · 6 days ago

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I don’t think people understand the extent and effect of Jason Todd’s trauma. I mean, every time Jason goes “I died.” Everyone’s like “we know, Jason!”

But no. No, you don’t know. He died — in every sense of the word. His heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped giving out air. His body was taut, numb, paralyzed.

And the crowbar, the beating didn’t kill Jason Todd— the bomb did which means he laid down on that cold stone floor of the warehouse in a pool of his own blood and counted down the minutes to his death, quite literally and even in his last moments, beyond all logic, he was hoping that Dad will come, Dad will save him, Dad will be here. But Dad was too late.

And he was helpless and tired and bleeding when the shrill scream of the explosion cut through followed by that chilling silence. He must have felt the debris press into his already broken bones and skin and that’s when it must have hit him that it’s actually over. He’s dead and Dad couldn’t save him. So, he must have closed his eyes and waited for the peace that follows with being dead.

Because he was just a kid. Sixteen. Kids die and go to heaven, right? Well, even that was snatched away from Jason.

Because he was forced back to life— whether it was climbing out of your own fucking grave or the Lazarus pit— he was forced back into a life that was his no more because who he was, the kid, the Robin— he died and what came back was someone no one could identify.

He must’ve felt his heart beat frantically to push all that blood through his aching muscles, his lungs finally swallowing in air after being black and blue for god knows how long. He came back only to find out that the one person he loved most in the world didn’t think him worthy of being avenged. No matter how much Bruce suffered after Jason’s death— in my opinion— Jason’s anger is justified. Because he was JUST A KID. He was killed simply to spite Batman, he was killed as collateral damage. A KID- BEATEN BLOODY AND BRUISED FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO HELP HIS MOTHER FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO PROVE HE WAS GOOD.

Can you even imagine how many times he must’ve just wanted to stop? Can you imagine how much he wanted to just go home and have Alfred bake him cookies again? How much he wanted to hug Bruce and try forgiving, how much he wanted to call Dick “brother” again and just be his “little wing?”

It pains me to see how he’s treated— both fanon and canon.

Jason Todd isn't just the “angry Robin” or “the violent anti-hero with a grudge” he’s so much more.

He is a hero. And he died a hero. He died trying to save someone. He died hoping he saved someone.

I have said it before and I’ll say it again: he did NOT deserve that. But look how he took all the bad things that happened to him and only gave the world something better in return?

Yeah, that’s who Jason Todd is.

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hivemuthur · 10 days ago

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hihihihi i literally love ur writing smmmm like i actually need it sb. any time you post ik it’s gonna be peak literature 🙂‍↕️

anyhowwww, i wanted to request an arcane fic with a university au viktor x reader where viktor and reader are like academic rivals or wtv and they’re always bickering but viktor rlly wants to be her friend and doesn’t want to be rivals. sooo he tries like anything he can and as reader eventually warms up to him another guy comes along (maybe jayce or smth idk? or it can just be a random) and becomes their friend like almost instantly and viktor is JEALOUSSSS and envious and just ufhfhhffhhfghhf i need that sb.

it can be nsfw or sfw i literally do not care i just need that plot paired with your writing and ik it’s gonna be an absolute masterpiece.

Hey, love! You know what I'm gonna say, right? Sorry for the long wait. This will have 3 chapters, like for real, not like the other one that now is looking more like 5. I'm gonna say a few things got changed here, because I forgot the essence of the request while writing, but the general message is: Viktor is bad at flirting.

Tightrope - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit), frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU

Ch.2. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: I have a very poor name vocabulary sorry. Here's another Joe, this time he's a dude :v thank you @rennethen for beta reading and bearing through my shit with such grace. One trick pony here we go!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You squint as your eyes scan the list of projects for Heimerdinger’s class. And since the professor is just and fair, like a nice old man who has seen it all, you already know what to expect. But you check anyway.

He wouldn’t pair you—the almost top-of-the-class student, fighting desperately with your feet and elbows to stay there—with someone undeserving. This little annoying thing in the back of your head called hope still glows faintly, last embers about to die as you’ve read through almost all names known to you except for yours.

And as a bucket of cold water gets thrown over the ashen pieces of coal, you find it. And oh—

Of course. Next to it, your least favourite name. Of course, just… great. This is great. This is fine.

The last time you worked together, it ended with a lot of papercuts, pencils flying, and Jayce using notebooks and blackboards as shields—not to mention a tiny explosion because neither of you could agree on proportions.

So, like the responsible classmate you are, you make one final, desperate attempt to convince the nice little man to change your partner. For the sake of public safety and the well-being of everyone who steps foot on Academy grounds.

You are also nice and well-behaved, so even though the door to the classroom is open, you knock on the doorframe before disturbing the professor.

“Ah! I would lie if I said I wasn’t expecting you to show up. Please, come in!” he exclaims, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in sheer existential pain. If he already knows what you want, you already know how this is going to go.

Still, you press forward, stepping inside and clasping your hands behind your back in what you hope is a diplomatic stance. “Professor, I was wondering if—by any chance, purely hypothetically—there’s a possibility to switch partners for the project?”

Heimerdinger folds his arms behind his back, looking up at you with the kind of patient amusement that makes you feel like a child asking for extra dessert before finishing dinner. “Ah, yes. I was almost certain you’d ask that,” he says, nodding sagely. “And before you say anything else, I do hope you won’t drop out of my class if I say no.”

You open your mouth, ready to assure him that you would never be so dramatic—except that’s exactly what you were about to say, just in different words.

Before you can recover, Heimerdinger raises a hand and continues. “This project is worth thirty percent of your final mark,” he states, his voice gentle but firm. “I am, of course, aware of the... tension between you and Viktor.” His moustache twitches slightly, betraying a hint of amusement. “However, I must ensure fairness in all assignments. There will be no one riding on someone else’s back in my class.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Professor, with all due respect, we nearly set a classroom on fire last time—”

“The most beautiful diamonds,” he interjects, tilting his head with a knowing smile, “are shaped under pressure.”

You stare at him, jaw tight. He stares back, completely at ease.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“I—” you gulp on air, searching for words. Finally, a breath of surrender escapes you and you deflate completely, saying only, “Thank you for your time.”

Seeing your sagged chest and fingers grasping the edge of your notebook tightly, Heimerdinger offers you a consolation. “I know I seem ancient to you, child. But trust me when I say, I do remember what it’s like to be young, and a little bit of friendly rivalry can be transformed into something truly groundbreaking. Think Newton and Hooke! Tesla and Edison! Bohr and Einstein! All of them were in quandaries that led to further discoveries!”

While Heimerdinger lists off pairs of rival geniuses, completely different names surface in your mind, unspoken but undeniable. Verlaine and Rimbaud. Love and Cobain. Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. You are convinced those are the dynamics that loom over you and Viktor—just without all the feelings, of course.

And if only you were just competitors, like Bohr and Einstein, things would be so much simpler.

From the very first meeting, Viktor had been cold and reserved, his sharp tongue laced with enough venom to wither anyone foolish enough to challenge him. But if there was one thing you had to do to stay afloat in this sea of STEM sausages, it was dare. And challenge.

You still remember that moment vividly. How you almost stumbled when Jayce introduced you—because gods, he was gorgeous. An angular face that looked carved from marble, warm amber eyes framed by a fall of auburn hair. A boy so unfairly pretty that, had you met him a few years earlier, you would have fallen hard.

Your eyes swept him from head to toe before you slipped your hand into his, and for a single, traitorous moment, something fluttered in your chest. A rush of warmth, unexpected and unfamiliar.

Then you blurted out your name with an embarrassing stutter—

And the magic shattered the second Viktor opened his sweet mouth.

"Charmed," he drawled, but the dryness in his voice suggested the opposite. His gaze flicked over you in a quick, assessing glance before he tilted his head towards Jayce. "Is she another one of your projects, or does she actually know what she’s doing?"

The warmth in your chest evaporated instantly, replaced by a sharp spike of irritation.

Oh. Oh. So that’s how this was going to go.

With a weak smile, you thank Professor Heimerdinger, and your mind is so out of it that you almost curtsy—which you hastily disguise as an awkward bow. Nearly stumbling over your own feet, you literally fall out of the classroom, colliding with something big and solid.

“Careful there! Hi, oh—” A surprised voice reaches your ears, followed by a strong arm steadying you. “Hi there. Hi, um. You alright?”

Either he’s a halfwit or completely smitten with you, because his articulation leaves much to be desired. Not that you're one to judge, given your current coordination.

“Hi, sorry. Just a small… miscalculation.” You smile sheepishly and extend your hand out of habit, instinctively introducing yourself to your unexpected saviour. After all, that’s how you met Jayce.

“I’m Joe,” he says in one breath, your much smaller hand completely disappearing in his massive palm. “It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckles, a blush blooming across his cheeks—so unabashed, his eyes glinting—and oh.

Nice, you catch yourself thinking in the most obscene, ludicrous way as you zero in on his chest, the tight team T-shirt clinging to it.

“Eh, it’s nice to meet you too.” You grin, nodding, and blink stupidly, batting your eyelashes, not entirely sure what’s happening.

Before you get a chance to unglue the dumbfounded smile from your face and actually say something more, Jayce’s voice rings through the corridor, your name echoing off the walls.

“There you are! Oops! Making new friends? Don’t mind her, this is her love language.”

Jayce—the oblivious Jayce, a man so naïve it would never cross his mind what he is doing to someone you literally just met thirty seconds ago. Mortification is too weak a word to describe what you feel inside.

“Jayce!” You smack his chest and shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t mind him, he’s an ass.”

And as if poor Joe doesn’t have enough on his plate already, another voice bombards him, and you’re certain he’s beginning to regret ever catching you.

“Hello. Are you a new face in Heimerdinger’s class?” Viktor asks, wearing that redundant smirk, his voice stretching into a deliberate, chewy, gross thing that makes you scowl. Just outright cruel.

“Heh, no, I just happened to catch your friend,” Joe answers without missing a beat. “And… I was hoping I could get her number.”

And that just. Does it.

You nod faster than you think, already reaching for his phone, clumping your number in there with sticky, shaky fingers and a stupid blush creeping up your neck. You avoid Jayce’s and Viktor’s eyes, but oh boy, you can feel both pairs drilling into you almost viscerally. Viktor’s especially—those fucking yellow embers burning right through you from under furrowed brows.

You flash Joe one last smile and a very awkward, very hurried, “Call me,” not knowing what has gotten into you. Then you let Jayce sweep you away toward your usual route to the cafeteria, while Viktor strolls behind, full of graceful disdain.

“So, I saw the tables, and…” Jayce clears his throat, chattering into your ear. “I’ve seen the pairs! We can share a lab, I’m paired with Sky!”

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh and pat his shoulder—a touch saying more than a thousand words. Words that say how much you can’t wait for another round of throwing objects at Viktor, while Jayce scrambles to catch anything that might hurt Sky.

“Oh, are you not happy about the distribution of projects?” Viktor asks, a small smile playing at his lips.

“The project is fine. The distribution… I’m sure you understand.” You throw him an acidic smirk, your eyes empty of any emotion save for one slow blink. Neural Interface for Prosthetics is actually an incredibly good project—Heimerdinger got you there, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Well, maybe you could be just a little more grateful had he paired you with Jayce or Sky.

“Eh, you will forgive me, but I do not.” Viktor pauses and looks at you—challenging you. And you really hate it, because it works. “I do not wish to have the project jeopardized by something silly, as the topic itself aligns with my interests.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual, Viktor. Can we please eat? I am about to eat one of you if we don’t go to the cafeteria right now,” you sigh, exasperated, and your stomach growls to support your claim.

“You can eat me!” Jayce lands face down between your bickering, and you just laugh, completely disarmed.

Once you finally sit down, Viktor simply opens a book next to his tray, ignoring both you and Jayce completely—obviously sulking about something. Jayce, on the other hand, takes massive bites of his sandwich, staring at you intensely, as if willing you to spill the tea. When that doesn’t work, he speaks.

“So… who’s the new guy?” he elbows you playfully and you can barely understand him with his mouth full. But his eyes say it all—he is dying to know.

"Jayce, you’re so transparent I almost can’t see you. Where are you, Jayce? Where did you go?" You wave your hands around dramatically. He almost chokes. Viktor scoffs, unimpressed, barely glancing up from his book as he stirs sweetmilk into his coffee.

Once the immediate hazard of death by choking is under control, Jayce flashes one of those earnest grins—one that practically screams what a good person he is, full of pure intentions. "Oh, shut up. He seems nice, and I’m curious."

"He’s just a guy, nothing more," you hum, taking a sip of your coffee. And even though you have no idea if that little encounter will go anywhere, you can’t resist adding a pin. "Yet."

Viktor looks like he is holding back a scoff, so he just turns the page in his book with a violent sweep.

"Well… do you like him?" Jayce presses, oblivious to the tension at the table. He’s just such a gossip girl.

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you alright? Why are you so interested?"

Jayce shrugs. "I don’t know, I always thought you’d end up with someone of equal… interests?" Intelligence is what he really means. But that would be cruel. Just because a guy plays rugby doesn’t mean he’s brain damaged. Surely.

"Oh please, I hate STEM bros." You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms with an air of finality, as if that settles the matter. You do hate STEM bros. They are full of themselves, have no respect for women and look down on you.

Jayce raises an eyebrow, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. "Erm… you are a STEM bro."

Viktor finally looks up from his book, watching you with the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest as if mortally offended. "Jayce Talis! I am a lady! Not a bro!"

That is Viktor’s cue. “I don’t think that lack of testicles classifies you as a lady instantly,” he says in a deadpan voice.

And you don’t know what pushes your stupid mind to say it. Is it just muscle memory—your tongue snapping back whenever you talk to Viktor—or an actual intention to say something mean to him? You really don’t know. In one breath, you say, voice equally dead to his, “Of course not. If that were the case, you’d classify as a lady as well,” and watch the chaos unravel.

None of that happens, though. The underwhelming events carry on in painfully slow motion—Jayce’s eyes widening so much there’s a real threat they might never close again, while Viktor gulps his coffee with an agonisingly slow bob of his Adam’s apple. It’s only when he’s done that you realise he was fighting not to choke on it—because the next moment, he bursts into laughter, covering his face with his hand.

Jayce exhales the breath he was holding and laughs as well—you’re not sure if it’s at your joke or simply at the sight of Viktor laughing so openly, an event so rare it shouldn’t go uncherished. Despite yourself, you grin. Indeed, Viktor’s face—his eyes squeezed shut to the point of a tear slipping from beneath his long lashes, smile lines filling out his hollowed cheeks, his teeth bared in an uninhibited cackle—is a sight to behold.

The stupid thing in your chest stutters, as Viktor wheezes and lowers his hand to rest on yours. “Remind me to never cross you again. Merciless is an understatement,” he says, barely, with a really warm smile and you find yourself blushing again, for the second time in a mere hour. Because of two different boys.

And as any moment made of pure magic in the history of magical moments, this one doesn’t last either. It gets violently interrupted by a buzz of your phone on the table.

If you wanna take a stroll, I have a free period now :) We can meet by the fountain. Joe, in case you wonder who this is :)

And your blush deepens. You calculate options in your mind and soon decide on the what the hell one. “I’m gonna scram boys. See you in the lab after class?”

“Yes. Please bring the less… distracted version of yourself if you can,” Viktor states and all the warmth evaporates from him at once. Back to the usual version of himself—sharp wit, balancing on the verge of cutting.

As you mumble an absent, “I’ll do my best,” and wave them goodbye, Jayce returns to his sandwich and sighs knowingly.

“You know… wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit nicer,” Jayce says, leaning forward on his elbows. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of curiosity beneath it, like he’s prodding at something fragile just to see if it will break.

“This is me being nice,” Viktor replies in a neutral tone, lifting his coffee to his lips. The steam curls around his face as he takes a slow sip, his expression unmoving. He is being nice. He is trying to be nice. It’s just sometimes completely impossible to be nice to you when you get like this. Distracted. He scoffs to himself. It’s a strange friendship you have there, but it’s a friendship nevertheless—or so he likes to think.

Jayce studies him, his gaze sharp despite the lazy way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “No, that is just you being… well, you,” he says bluntly, tilting his head as if he’s considering whether to push further. “Being a dick is not a way to a lady’s heart.”

Viktor arches a brow, unimpressed. “Excuse me, but have we experienced the same scene? I was the one being offended and laughed it off like a gentleman, thank you.” He gestures vaguely with his cup, his fingers tightening just slightly around the ceramic.

Jayce narrows his eyes. “Then why are you so annoyed in the first place?”

“I am not annoyed,” Viktor states flatly, setting his coffee down with a little more force than necessary. He smooths his hands over his sweater as he rises from his seat, already turning away before Jayce can open his mouth again. “I am great. I am so great, in fact, that I will go and start working on that project. See you, Jayce.”

And then he just strides off, his cane tapping against the floor, leaving Jayce mid-sentence with his mouth open, eyes blinking slowly.

Of course, he is not annoyed. Maybe only slightly—and only because you’ve somehow managed to gain another distraction in your life right before you were about to start working on the biggest project of the year. And it’s just, well, fucking annoying.

***

When you glance at your watch, you yelp and press a hand to your forehead. “Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath before breaking into a sprint toward the lab.

Viktor is going to kill you—especially since there’s no way to prove you were caught up in something important.

Because, well, you weren’t. It was Joe who took up all your time this afternoon. And he is… surprisingly nice. And smart.

You hadn’t expected that.

What started as a casual conversation somehow stretched into something far longer, the minutes slipping away unnoticed. He had opinions on films—actual opinions, not just generic statements about “liking action movies.” He had read some of the same books as you and even suggested a few you begrudgingly admitted sounded interesting. Sports came up, of course, but he spoke about them with a self-awareness that made it bearable. And when the conversation dipped into politics, he didn’t say anything that made you want to throw your coffee in his face. That alone was impressive.

It was… weirdly comfortable. Easy, even. Even when he lingered.

Joe’s gaze held onto you a second longer than necessary, like he was memorising the way you looked when you laughed. And when he hugged you goodbye, his arms stayed around you for just a breath too many. The slow way he untangled himself from you made it clear that if you hadn’t pulled away first, he wouldn’t have been the one to let go.

Shaking off the last remnants of Joe from your thoughts, you push through the heavy lab doors with a hurried stumble, your breath still uneven from the rush.

“Sorry, I’m late, guys—” The words die in your throat as you take in the empty room.

Only Viktor.

He stands at the workbench, sleeves pushed up, hands meticulously adjusting the placement of various tools and notes. At the sound of your voice, he pauses but doesn’t turn around immediately. The rhythmic ticking of the clock fills the silence, marking the seconds you take to process the situation.

No Jayce. No Sky. Just Viktor, and the sharp scent of metal and oil clinging to the air.

“Glad you could make it,” he remarks, finally turning his head just enough to glance at you. His voice is even, but something about it feels... off. You can’t tell if he’s irritated or merely stating a fact. Maybe both.

“Sorry,” you sigh, setting your things down with a thud. “I lost track of time.”

“With your new himbo.” It isn’t a question.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Yes. And his name is Joe, Viktor, not a new himbo.”

Viktor hums—a short, unimpressed sound—and resumes his work, carefully aligning a set of blueprints. Somehow, his silence feels louder than an argument.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, more to yourself than to him, or rather into the empty space between you and Viktor, which seems to be expanding with each passing second.

“And where are Jayce and Sky?”

“They managed to sketch out the roadmap for themselves in the time you spent with Joe and decided they needed the library for further planning,” Viktor replies flatly, still not looking at you. The way he deliberately keeps his gaze averted only emphasises how much has been accomplished in your presumably very long moment of indulgence. How nice.

“Alright, would you like me to crucify myself, or do you want the honours?” Impatience gets the better of you, and you fold your arms tightly across your chest.

At that, Viktor’s hands still over the workbench. His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction, though his gaze remains fixed on the floor, as if acknowledging you fully would be a waste of effort.

“I am merely stating a fact,” he says, his voice low, clipped. “This is more important than some affairs, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, really, Viktor?” You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “And here I thought thirty percent of my grade was worth sacrificing for some sloppy making out—but thank you so much for finally making me see the error of my ways.”

That makes him look.

And he is angry.

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing, gears visibly grinding in his mind as he weighs whether you’re just riling him up or—God forbid—whether you actually have made out with Joe.

His jaw tightens. “Just get to work already, will you?”

You say nothing, only flash him an acrid smile before reaching for your goggles on the workbench.

The two of you work in almost deafening silence, broken only by the occasional exchange of necessary questions and answers. You retrieve materials while Viktor arranges the workspace, and you scribble down the general plan on the blackboard, the tension in the air palpable.

Each time the chalk screeches against the surface, Viktor visibly winces, hissing under his breath and sinking his head between his shoulders in an exaggerated display of agony.

You roll your eyes but say nothing.

“Could you maybe try a little harder to make it less cacographic?” he mutters, irritation creeping into his voice.

The suddenness of it startles you just as you’re making another stroke, and the chalk lets out a bone-chilling whine against the board.

Viktor flinches violently, covering his ears. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, voice muffled behind his palms. “Let me do it.” He steps forward, reaching for the chalk without hesitation.

You anticipate the move, tucking your arm behind your back in defiance. A childish gesture, maybe, but if he’s going to be an ass about it, you’re not about to make it easy for him.

He doesn’t stop. He closes the distance between you in a few sharp steps, his expression taut with frustration. Before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist—tight, unrelenting. He pries your hand forward and gives a firm shake, forcing your fingers to unclench until the chalk drops neatly into his waiting palm.

A sharp twinge shoots up your arm. It’s not painful exactly, but it’s close enough to make you wince.

Snatching your hand back, you massage your wrist, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

For a brief second, something flickers across Viktor’s face—regret, maybe. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, buried beneath the same rigid composure he always wears like armour. He doesn’t apologise. Doesn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, he turns to the board and begins writing, his tone stripped of anything resembling warmth.

“I want to wrap this up before tomorrow,” he says flatly, chalk gliding across the surface with sharp, efficient strokes. “And you are being thoroughly incompetent. I told you to bring yourself not distracted.”

You let out a sharp scoff. “Okay, I am so sorry I was late. I’ll stay longer and finish up whatever we don’t get done in time. But you are outdoing yourself in being a complete twat today.”

You don’t wait for a response. Instead, you march over to the workbench, hands immediately finding the prototype components. If you focus on the task, maybe you won’t be tempted to launch something at Viktor’s insufferable head.

“Oh please, I do not trust anything you do without supervision,” Viktor says, scribbling quietly on the board, somehow making a point out of it.

“Viktor, are you serious right now? We literally have the same grades,” you huff, leaning over the table to pick up the components you need. You do your best to tune him out—his bickering is only distracting, and you need to rewire the prototype from the previous project.

Overall, the task is simple enough. The device is built around an EEG-based neural interface—a system that reads electrical activity in the brain and translates it into signals that can control a mechanical limb. In practical terms, the user wears a headband fitted with electrodes that detect neural impulses associated with movement. These signals then travel through a processing unit, which refines the input before transmitting it to the prosthetic itself.

That’s the easy part. The rest, well.

The prototype you’re working on today is a refinement of an earlier model. The previous iteration had suffered from signal lag and inconsistent responsiveness—issues you’re hoping to correct by integrating a new set of circuits and refining the algorithm for noise reduction.

You grab the headband from the pile of equipment, turning it over in your hands. It should work just fine if you tweak the wiring to accommodate the new design. Without thinking too much about it, you start securing the circuits, fingers working on autopilot as you weave the delicate wires through the correct channels.

Or at least, you think they’re correct—until Viktor’s voice cuts through your focus again.

“Are you even listening to me? What are you doing?�� His tone is sharp, irritated—like he’s already asked this more than once.

Your expression tightens as he strides over to the bench, clearly unimpressed. “I just rewired it. Nothing too complex,” you mutter, adjusting a loose wire before reaching for the power switch.

Viktor doesn’t look convinced. He picks up the headband, turning it over in his hands with a scrutinising gaze. “Nothing too complex,” he repeats dryly. “Yes, because neural interfaces are famously simple. I’d rather be sure. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, reaching over and flipping the switch.

The reaction is instant.

A sharp jolt cracks through the air, followed by a strangled, almost undignified yelp as Viktor jerks back, dropping the headband as if it has burned him. His entire body stiffens, fingers twitching violently for a brief second before he stumbles, gripping the workbench for support, blinking rapidly.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh—shit—Viktor—”

He exhales sharply, pressing a hand to his chest, his face twisted in a grimace. “Wonderful,” he grits out. “So that’s what you rewired.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, rushing to him, ignoring the sharpness of his tone. Your hands instinctively cup his face as you lean in. He blinks, startled, his mouth parting at the sudden concern—your brows furrowed, eyes searching his face for any sign of lingering pain, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says flatly. “You’ve electrocuted me.” His hands move to seize your wrists, but you twist away before he can. Your palms return to his face, fingers framing him gently, and Viktor’s breath hitches.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, voice genuine. You are truly sorry, the worry overriding all the anger you had for him mere seconds ago. And Viktor has no idea how to react to this. He stands there, breath unsteady, before muttering, “I’m fine.”

You blink, straightening, and Viktor is almost ready to exhale in relief—until your hands shift again, this time pressing against his chest and back, cradling his heart between your palms. You stand beside him, hands firm but careful, instinct guiding you more than knowledge. You don’t even know if this is what you’re supposed to do for someone who’s been electrocuted, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

His heart thunders beneath your touch. The silence is so heavy you can hear yourself gulp on the lump in your throat. You don’t hate him that much, and you hope he knows it.

Finally, Viktor speaks, his breath still rattling. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in your touch after all.” He tries to sound wicked, but there is no venom in his voice.

“Viktor, you bastard. When have I not been kind to you?” you respond playfully, your hands still pressed against him.

“Ah, well. When you implied my alleged castration is the first that comes to mind. But rest assured, my testicles are good and well. I’d show you, but I’m afraid someone has already filled this position in your life,” he trails off, slipping back into his seemingly unbothered attitude.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. Still, your fingers linger, as if trying to determine whether his heartbeat is elevated from the shock or something else entirely. Or is it always like this? You don’t dare to ask.

Viktor tilts his head, watching you. “What about?”

“Any of it. You make me fucking gag,” you scoff, finally sliding your hands off him.

“Not yet—but I could.”

You barely have time to register the shift before he catches your hand, his thumb pressing against your palm. A slight twitch makes your fingers curl around his.

“You could what?”

“Make you gag.” The words slip out just as a smirk blooms on his face, faster than he can think to stop either. He can’t tell if he regrets them immediately.

The figurative pin drops. A high-pitched whine rings in your ears. Viktor’s gaze is drilled into you, thumb still pressing into your palm.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t miss a beat. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in you after all,” you murmur.

“Ah, for you. Only kindness, nothing else,” Viktor hums, his voice a low purr as his thumb idly circles the centre of your palm. His grip is loose enough that you could pull away, yet you don’t. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—something that makes your breath catch before you force yourself to scoff.

“Yeah, right.”

His smirk deepens. “When have I not been kind to you?”

“Like… ever?” You raise a brow, tilting your head as if you’re genuinely considering it. “You mock me. You think I’m outright stupid and don’t deserve my spot in class. You constantly correct me and fight me over solutions. You hate working with me, scoff at me, and laugh me out in front of Jayce. And Sky.”

Viktor clicks his tongue, his fingers squeezing yours ever so slightly. “Such is my love language.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, forget it.” You finally try to pull your hand away, but Viktor doesn’t let go just yet, his grip tightening for half a second before he releases you��only for his cane to hook lightly around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion.

“Wait.” His voice is softer now, coaxing. When you glance at him, there’s something else in his gaze, something warmer, but it’s masked beneath that ever-present air of a prank. “I almost died, you shouldn’t leave me.”

You gape at him. “Viktor—”

“Alright, alright! I surrender.” He chuckles, but there’s something breathless in it. His fingers twitch against his cane. “Wait. Please.”

The sudden plea stills you. Your heart stumbles over itself before you swallow and straighten your posture, crossing your arms in an attempt to shake the feeling off.

Viktor exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before returning his gaze to you. “I do not mock you or laugh you out. I simply jest—I do that with Jayce all the time. You should have noticed by now.”

You purse your lips, unimpressed.

“I do not correct you,” he continues, his voice lilting, as if this is all some grand performance. “I offer you my point of view. And I do not fight you—I simply enjoy some intellectual sparring. Not many can provide one that satisfies me.”

Your fingers twitch, nerves sparking beneath your skin at the way he says satisfies, but you ignore it. Instead, you level him with a flat stare.

“You’re just gaslighting me at this point, Viktor. At least give me a head start before you snap my neck with this thing one day.” You tap the end of his cane with a pointed look.

Viktor grins—slow, wicked. His weight shifts, allowing the cane to rest a little heavier against your wrist, his fingers curling just slightly around the handle.

“Oh, come now. That would be far too merciful.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate that it does.

“Are you going to be good to me now?” Viktor asks, his voice so low you barely hear it, but the weight of it settles deep in your chest.

He takes a step closer, and your breath catches when you feel it—his exhale, warm against your skin, ghosting over your lips. His fingers brush against your wrist, the same one he had seized not long ago. A touch that lingers.

“You have almost killed me, after all.” You watch his lips twisted in a smile you’ve never seen before. And it scares you for some reason.

“Stop this,” you say, firmer than you expected, yanking your hand away. You clutch it to your chest like a wound, like something fragile he might pry apart if given the chance.

Viktor tilts his head, eyes sharp with curiosity. “Why?”

Your throat tightens. “You know goddamn well why.” You take a step back, shaking your head, something bitter curling in your gut. “I am not your project, you dick.”

Viktor’s expression shifts—his smirk falters, lips parting slightly as if caught off guard. “Hey, that is not what I meant—”

But you don’t let him finish. You pivot on your heel, retreating towards the door, your pulse hammering in your ears. You need distance. The lab suddenly feels too small, the air too thick, charged with something neither of you were prepared for.

Behind you, Viktor’s voice follows, just a step behind. “Wait—”

You don’t.

The door swings shut behind you, and Viktor is left standing in the empty lab, staring after where you had just been.

A long exhale leaves him, and he runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath,

“Well, damn. That backfired.”

He frowns to himself, rolling his jaw as if trying to make sense of what just happened—of what he just did.

And for the first time in a long while, Viktor realises he doesn’t have a formula for this.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #requests #tightrope

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scarlethexelove · 10 months ago

Note

If possible could you do a intersex kate bishop x Stark fem reader where Kate and reader are rivals with alot of tension towards each other and soon they begin to have a argument/fight that turns into a love confession with reader and Kate ending up sleeping together and reader becoming pregnant with Kate's child

I Love You, You Idiot

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 4804

Warnings: Intersex Kate, Little bit of angst, Smut, Some fluff, being shot, being trapped, Kate's got a big dick (Yes that needs to be a warning in itself), unexpected pregnancy, throwing up, blood draw, soft protective Tony, Mentions of torture, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of being skinned, Scars, Kind of a frenemies vibe, P in V, unprotected sex, Little bit rough sex, Choking, Maybe more I can't think of

Pt 2

A/n: I loved writing this one. Sorry it took so long. I knew this one was going to get long and I hope you like it. I would definitely be up for adding some more to this in the future.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You grunt as you pull yourself off the floor. Pain coursing through your shoulder, arm, and head as you look around the room. Pallets of equipment covered in tarps surround the room. A dim light only lets you see the center of the room. You look towards the exit but it is covered in rubble leaving you with no way out. Kate had shot an explosive arrow which had went terribly wrong.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Your eyes land on the raven haired girl who is dusting herself off. “What’s wrong with me? What is wrong with you? You pushed me.” Kate shoots back at you. Anger now taking over and making you forget about the pain you’re in.

Your Dad Tony Stark sent you on this mission with Kate. You and her don’t get along, always bickering and trying to one up the other. Most of the Avengers know that you both can’t stand to be in the same room with one another so why did your father send you out with her of all people. It’s not that you don’t find the girl endearing but she just, you don’t know how to put your finger on it. This mission was supposed to be easy in and out but that all changed in a matter of moments.

“I had to push you you idiot or did you want to fucking die?” You scoff as you jump and sit on one of the pallets. Grimacing when you poke at the bullet wound adorning your left arm not even being able to lift it to get a better look at the wound. Kate’s features soften for a moment as she sees your condition. You look up at her and see her shifting as she looks at you just causing you to scowl. “Oh so you had a death wish, got it. Next time leave me the fuck out of it.” Kate quickly snaps out of it. “If you hadn’t pushed me then we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Her arms cross over her chest as she huffs. You roll your eyes. “Kate, that agent would have shot you if I hadn’t pushed you out of the way.” You notice how Kate’s nostrils flare when she is angry. “I would have been fine. I would have gotten him.”

Your patience is already wearing thin as your arm bleeds and you can now feel blood trickling down your face from your head. “He would have killed you, but I took the damn bullet.” You shake your head at the other girl and she shakes her head. “I could have gotten him.” You groan at her arrogance. “No you wouldn't, you didn’t even see him.” Kate just scoffed. She doesn’t want to admit she is wrong and that you are right. “Well if he was going to kill me why did you save me hmm? I thought you hated me.” Kate counters. You don't know what to say. You don’t hate her at all. Yes she annoys the hell out of you but she is a good person and someone that you can rival with. “Why did you do it Y/n?” She raises her voice. When you still stay quiet she yells. “Why the fuck did you save me if you hate me so much?”

“Because I fucking love you you idiot!” You yell back before going quiet and looking down. You honestly didn’t expect for that to come out of you and neither did Kate. Her jaw dropped as the room was completely silent. It takes her a moment to comprehend what you said. “W-what.” That is when the panic starts to build in you. You just told Kate that you love her. You hadn’t even accepted the fact in your mind before your heart took over and made you yell it out. Kate couldn’t lie she has always found you attractive and hated to admit that she was falling for you even though you bicker all the time. She just thought nothing could ever happen since you obviously hated her but she knows that she was wrong now.

You can’t bring yourself to look at her as you try to take part of your suit off. You need to check your wound and you want to forget that you just admitted feeling you haven’t fully grasped. “I-It’s nothing.” You mumble. You whimper when you can’t get your suit from off your shoulder.

Kate snaps out of her stupor when she hears you whimper in pain. She quickly makes her way over to you. “I think your shoulder is dislocated.” You hadn’t noticed how close Kate had gotten until you looked up startled. You don’t say anything and just nod. “Let me help.” You want to push her away and deal with it yourself but you know you can’t so you just nod again. “Okay.”

Kate looks over you to assess your injuries. When her explosive arrow went off it sent you flying into the wall. Your shoulder taking most of the impact and your head hitting against the wall. Blood drips down your face from the cut on your head. A sliver of it peaking through your hairline. All of the anger washes away as she sees the bullet wound adorning your arm. You were right and she might have been dead if you hadn’t pushed her out of the way. Your left side taking the brunt of all your injuries. Kate uses what Clint has taught her in order to treat you in the field. She helps get your suit down until it is sitting around your hips but you are wearing a long sleeve black shirt underneath. Kate hesitates before asking. “May I?”

You’re worried about Kate seeing you without your shirt on. Some of your past is only known to a select few outside of your immediate family. Four people to be exact Fury, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda. But you know for her to be able to help you she needs more access so you nod once again. A lump forming in your throat as she carefully removes your shirt. If she sees the scars she isn’t letting on but you know she can see them and you're thankful that she isn’t bringing attention to them.

It’s mostly silent other than your grunts and whimpers of pain as Kate pops your shoulder back in place and dresses your wounds. Leaving you thankful for the silence but the room is tense. Once Kate is done you look up at her and give her a soft smile. “Thank you.” It’s barely above a whisper but she hears it. Kate is about to speak before you cut her off. “I’m sorry.” Tears shine in your eyes not meeting her gaze. So many emotions are flooding you and you are struggling to hold onto one. “What for?” Kate asks you. “For everything. I was mean and spiteful to you for no reason. Well, more like I was scared.” Kate’s gaze softens. “Scared of what?” You struggle to find the right words to say. “Scared of what you would think of me. Scared of feelings that I don’t understand.” You look up at her and she sees the tears shining in your eyes. “I thought if I pushed you away and just was, I don’t know meaner to you I could just get rid of those feelings. I thought it would be better if you just hated me instead. But instead you made me fall for you more and I know that now. You don’t have to accept anything from me and you can hate me. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

Kate takes the chance she cups your cheeks leaning in and kissing you. You're surprised but soon reciprocate the kiss. You don’t even realize how heated the kiss has gotten until Kate pulls away and you're breathing heavier. She leans her forehead against yours and whispers. “I love you too Y/n.” You look into her eyes for any hint of doubt but all you find is truth. Kate pulls back slightly her hands moving to your waist. Your legs wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer just wanting to feel closer to her.

That is when you feel it. Her bulge in her pants and you can tell just from the short make out session that it definitely stirred something within her. Kate notices that you can tell and starts to pull away. “I-I’m sorry.” You wrap your legs around her tighter and shake your head. “I want you Kate, please.” You grind your hips lightly making the other girl groan. “R-right here?” You don’t know where some of this confidence has come from but with your good arm you cup her cheek in your hand and rub gently. “Katie we are kind of stuck here and I just want to feel you.” Your words flipping a switch in her grip on your waist tightening. “Fuck.” She groans.

Kate is quick to help rid you of the rest of your suit. Tossing it to the side already sees a wet patch forming on your underwear. She bites her lip admiring your body. You normally would be self conscious of your body but the look in Kate’s eyes has that washing away. Letting yourself be vulnerable with her. She doesn’t seem to care about the scars that litter your body. She only sees the beauty in your strength.

A finger hooks into the waistband of your underwear as Kate slides them down your thighs until they fall to the ground. Your body is now naked in front of the fully dressed woman but not for long. Kate eagerly strips down until she is only in a sports bra and boxers. You can see her cock straining against the fabric. You reach out for her, wanting her to come closer, but she takes her time. Finally pulling her boxers down and letting her cock spring free. She is much larger than you had expected. Kate notices your look of shock which makes her feel a little self conscious. She is about to step back when you reach for her again. “Katie.” She hesitates for a moment so you speak again. “I’ve never taken anything… anyone so big before.” Kate relaxes, finally stepping closer to you, slotting herself between your legs. “If at any point it becomes too much, let me know and I’ll stop.” She gets closer, the tip of her cock bumping your clit making you groan.

“Please Katie.” Your need and want for her taking over. Kate just chuckles with one hand on her cock as she looks down slowly, swiping it through your folds. Coating it in your juices. She hasn’t even done anything yet and you're already a dripping mess. She is entranced by your dripping pussy as she keeps teasing you. You whine a little and buck your hips but that doesn’t stop her teasing. You start to grow frustrated. “Stop teasing and just fuck me already.” You're barely able to get the words out before Kate is thrusting her length into you. Her cock splitting you open and stretching your walls further than ever before.

“O-oh fuck.” You gasp. Kate takes a minute with her hands going back to grip at your hips. “Shit so fucking tight.” Kate starts to ease out before pushing back in. A painfully delicious stretch as she picks up speed. Small breathy moans start tumbling from your lips as Kate pistons her hips into you. Kate looks from where you two are connected looking at your already blissed out face. Your mouth hangs slightly open as moans continue to fall from your lips. “Fuck so this is how I get you to shut up pretty girl. Fucking your tight little hole with by big cock.” You can’t help the blush that rises as you nod your head words escaping you.

Kate tests the waters with you a little bit as one of her hands moves up to your neck wrapping around it loosely. Your eyes widen and with a particularly hard thrust from Kate you moan. She applies some pressure to your throat causing another moan to be caught in your throat. Your head falling back and your arm wrapping around Kate and digging your nails into her back causing her to moan. You like the sound of her moan so you scratch down her back and clench around her length. More moans tumbling from her lips. Your combined moans bouncing off the walls as Kate continues fucking herself into you.

“Mmmm K-Kate.” Your words breathy as the knot grows tighter. Kate's hand is still firm around your neck as she drives her hips into yours. “Fuck you feel so good around me baby girl.” Kate leans in kissing you. You moan into her mouth giving her access, allowing her tongue to explore your mouth. Your legs pull her closer to you as your nails draw blood on her back. You're both so close. Kate’s thrust becomes sloppy as she draws near. You grind your hips into hers looking for your release.

“Wanna cum baby girl?” Kate mumbles against your lips. Trying desperately to hold her own orgasm back wanting to see and feel you fall apart for her. “Mmm please.” You whimper. “Cum for me.” Kate demands. Your vision blurs and your legs shake around her hips. Your nails racking down her back leaving angry red lines cuming harder than you have ever cum before gushing around her cock which just sets Kate off. Her hips stutter as she paints your walls white. Her thrust slows as she continues to cum. Filling you so full there is a slightly large bulge on your lower abdomen and her cum leaking out around her cock. You have never felt this full in your life but it’s a feeling that you could get used to.

When Kate stops her hands drop from your throat as she wraps her arms around you and buries her head in your neck pulling you as close as possible. Your head falls on her shoulder as you both hold one another panting. When you both have calmed down enough Kate pulls back and looks at your disheveled state finding you even more beautiful than before. “That was…” You breathe and Kate finishes. “Wow.” Which causes you both to giggle.

Kate slowly pulls out of you which causes you to wince and whimper. “I’m sorry.” She says hating that she could have hurt you. “It’s ok Katie, just sensitive.” You say with a small smile. She smiles back at you before her attention is drawn down. She watches as a mix of both of your cums leak out of you. Wish she could just push back into you making sure that it all stays in but she doesn’t want to hurt you. So Kate does what she can to make you more comfortable. She wanders around setting up a small place for the both of you to lay down. Once she is done she picks you up but you stop her. “Kate, I can walk.” You slap at her arm lightly. She holds up her hands in defense. You get up but your legs wobble and your knees give out. You would have hit the ground if it weren’t for Kate’s strong arms catching you. “Don’t say it.” You warn the girl. She just chuckles.

Soon you’re both laying on the ground, you on your side that isn’t injured cuddled up into Kate’s side. Your bummed arm draped lightly over her stomach. Her arms wrapped securely around you as her fingers dance across your skin lightly brushing the large scar adorning your side. You know that she is just absentmindedly just doing it but you feel safe with her. Your head that was laying on her chest now propped up on your chin looking at the raven haired girl. “Would you like to know?” You question her, your words soft. Kate smiles at you. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

You lay your head back on her chest and let out a deep sigh. “When I was 13 a group of men kidnapped me. The daughter of the great Tony Stark should be able to get access to all the money and weapons they desire. I don’t know why they thought a 13 year old would have that but I guess they weren’t all that smart. When I couldn’t give them what they wanted they tortured me.” You have to pause for a second letting out a shaky breath. Kate is listening and holding you close for comfort. “I was there for a week with little food or water. Right before my Dad found me they took a large knife and literally skinned my side. They um, they sent it to my Dad which actually helped him find me. For as dumb as they were, they were also good at hiding. Not many people know outside of my Mom and Dad. Only Fury, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda and well I guess now you.”

You nuzzle into Kate’s chest trying to stop the tears from falling. You can hear Kate sniffle causing you to look up at her and see the tears shining in her eyes. Her other hand moves up to cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry that happened to you Y/n/n.” You give her a reassuring smile. “It’s ok. I um still go to therapy for it and still have some nightmares but they have gotten better.” She leans in and kisses your forehead. The room grows silent as you both lay in each other's embrace.

Your eyes flutter closed as you grow close to sleep but you're woken when you hear a voice and not of Kate’s. Your com is sitting on top of your clothes. You quickly crawl over to it and stick it in your ear. “Y/n/n are you there? Please be there.” You hear your Dads voice come through the com. “Dad?” You question hoping you're not just hearing things. “Thank god you’re alive. Are you hurt? Is Kate there with you?” He asks quickly. “Yes Dad, we are ok.” You tell him as Kate is behind you rubbing her hand up and down your back. “Y/n is injured but I patched her up the best I can.” You can’t help but look back at her and scowl which just causes her to smirk. “Shit, okay. We have your tackers and we are working to get you two out of there. I’ll have medical on standby.” You huff. “Dad, I'm fine.” Kate talks over you. “No, she was shot.” Your head shoots back to look at her again. “It was nothing.” Your Dad is silent for a moment. “Medical will be ready to look you over when we get you out. We should get to you in less than an hour.” You nod your head like your Dad can see you but you realize he can’t. “Okay see you soon.”

You push Kate when you stop talking to your dad. “I just want to help you baby girl.” You can’t help but sigh knowing that she is right. Your cheeks are also heating up from hearing her call you that which just makes the girl smirk at you. So you push her playfully. You both quickly get dressed Kate helping you get dressed as you wait to be rescued.

—---------

You’re sitting in the lab with your Dad as you work on upgrades for yours and Nat’s weapons. You even have some ideas for Kate which makes you smile to yourself. But the smile soon falls when the familiar feeling in your stomach has you stopping. The tools once in your hands clatter on the counter as you lung for the trashcan. With the trash can now grasped in your hands and propped on your lap the small amount of content in your stomach is thrown up. Tony is behind you in seconds rubbing his hand up and down your back.

Once you're done throwing up you set the trashcan back down and wipe your lips. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you were pregnant. You’ve been sick the last few days kiddo.” Tony says as he tries to comfort you. But his words spark something inside of you. You think back. It has been two months since the mission and you and Kate had sex. You’re just now realizing that you haven’t had your period either.

You start to panic as you realize that your Dads words more than likely ring true. Tony watches your expression change. You get up and start to move around the lab. Tony grabs you and stops you in your tracks. “Hey kiddo calm down.” His hands are on your shoulder. You look up to him with tears in your eyes. “I-I need to go to the store.” He knows what you want and shakes your head. “We can do a blood test here in the lab. It is much more accurate than those tests.” You give your dad a small nod. He leads you over to his work area having you sit as he gets ready to draw your blood. You're both quiet as he sets up. As he starts taking your blood he speaks. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.” You sigh and look down. “It’s complicated Dad.” He is silent for a moment as he pulls the needle out and places a piece of gauze on the spot. You hold it there and pull your arm back. “Are you going to tell me who it is?” He asks you but you stay silent.

As Tony starts running the test you go and brush your teeth before coming back to the silent room and continuing your work. Trying everything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling in your gut. You don’t know how much time has passed. It feels like it is going slow and fast at the same time. You're brought back to reality when the computer beeps. You watch as your Dad rolls over to the computer screen and pulls up the results. You can’t see through his head but you're scared to look. It’s not that you don’t want kids, it is the fact you didn’t expect to have any right now and you’re not even dating Kate.

Tony rolls out of the way and angels the screen towards you. The screen shows pregnant. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as they move to your Dad’s face. You can’t tell what he is feeling at the moment but all you do is start to cry. “I-I’m sorry Daddy. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.” You don’t even know why you're crying but just as before Tony is to you in seconds this time wrapping his arms around you tightly as you cry into his chest. He reassures you as he holds you close. Once you start to calm down he speaks up again. “Do you want to keep it?” You nod as you pull back a little and look up at him. There is a small smile on his face. “Now are you going to tell me who fucked my daughter?” You push at him a little as he chuckles which just brings a smile to your face. You know you are going to have to tell him because you have to tell Kate but you're still a little scared and you know if you don’t do it now you won’t have the courage.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” You look at Tony who is still holding you in his arms. “Was it an Avenger?” He questions you. You pull back from him and wipe some of the tears off your face. “Please don’t be mad.” You tell him. “You fucked another Avenger!” He exclaimed. “Dad, if you don’t promise me that you aren’t going to be mad and respectful, I'm not going to tell you.” Tony grumbles but agrees. You let out a sigh before speaking again. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” It is quiet for a moment. “Yes Miss. Stark?” A female voice is heard overhead. “Can you please ask Kate to please come down to the lab.” You don’t dare to look at your Dad as you talk. “Right away Miss. Stark.”

When you finally meet your Dad’s gaze his mouth is hanging open in shock. Everyone knew that you and Kate didn’t get along so how could it be her. Though most have noticed that since your mission with her and being trapped together your dynamic has changed. You two wanted to keep things private and navigate these changes without the others knowing. So in front of the others you two were friendlier with one another but spent time together to get to know one another in private. Most just figured you two being trapped together changed things for you both but this wasn’t on their bingo cards for sure.

The door creaks open bringing your attention to the Raven hair girl that walks through the door. Kate notices the tear stains on your face and her gaze softens. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you were looking for me.” She looks between you and Tony and she can see the obvious scowl on his face. You give her a short nod before speaking up. “Dad, can you give us the room?” But he doesn’t move, still scowling at the other girl. “Dad you promised.” He grumbles and moves to leave. “Don’t try anything funny with my daughter, I'll be watching you.” He says to Kate as he walks by before heading out the door. He has always been protective over you and even more so of your sister so it is no surprise that he is acting like this.

“Y/n/n what's wrong?” Kate asks you but you don’t say anything, just taking her hand and walking her over to the screen. You drop her hand as you turn the screen for her to read. You drop your head not wanting to see her reaction. Not wanting to see her upset with you. The room goes silent once again as the results of the screen sink in. “You.. You’re pregnant?” Kate questions. You finally look up at her as tears that you didn’t even know were there start slipping down your face. You nod. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t m-mean for-” Your cut off when Kate wraps her arms around you and picks you up spinning you around.

You have to tell her to stop and put you down before you throw up all over her. She quickly puts you down but doesn’t let you go. “I’m sorry.” You mumble looking down. Kate removes one of her arms from around you and makes you look up at her. “Why are you sorry?” You can see genuine excitement in her eyes but also the concern she has for you. “Because I got pregnant.” You tell her feeling disappointed in yourself. She just shakes her head at you with a soft smile on her face. “You don’t need to be sorry for that. It takes two to make a baby and last time I checked I wasn’t the only one who came that day.” Her words make you blush a little and she chuckles. “I want kids more than anything baby girl and I would love to have them with you if that is what you wanted.”

You can’t help the happy tears that fall. “More than anything.” You mumble. You were so scared before but now all you have is excitement for a new chapter. Kate leans in capturing your lips with hers. The kiss becomes heated quickly as Kate pulls you closer, but you're both broken apart when you hear banging on the glass. You pull back looking past Kate at your Dad who is banging on the glass walls of the lab. You wave him off knowing that he is grumbling to himself. You both laugh at the situation before Kate gives you another quick peck.

Kate looks down at you love and desire in her eyes. She moves one of her hands onto your stomach with a smile, her gaze on your stomach before looking back up at you. “Y/n Stark will you be my girlfriend?” You shed some more tears as you smile and nod. “I would love nothing more than that.” You kiss Kate again before pressing your foreheads together basking in the moment and the excitement of what is to come next on this new journey.

#syd answers #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop smut #kate x reader #kate bishop fic #kate bishop x reader smut #kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x reader fluff #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x you

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avelera · 3 months ago

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hey, how do you think viktor would've reacted to jayce being the one in danger?

because it was consistently jayce who was in a position to be worried about losing viktor - firstly because of viktor's health (when he finally clued in that things are bad), then the explosion, then him being taken over by the arcane.

and even before that, viktor's kind of expecting/bracing for that kind of dynamic as well - he has health problems, so people are gonna pity or devalue him or whatever he was expecting from jayce.

if that got turned around and something happened that made jayce's life seem fragile and in danger i imagine viktor would be reallyy thrown off by the switch, but it's kinda difficult for me to imagine how it'd actually look

So that's such an interesting question, because I agree, we've rarely seen Viktor react to Jayce being in clear and present physical danger so it's hard for me to picture what that would look like as well.

That said, we do have several canon instances of Viktor protecting Jayce to pull on:

1 ) In the finale, telling Jayce to leave and get to safety so Viktor can defuse the Hexcore on his own. So from that, we can draw that if Jayce was in danger, Viktor would be a self-sacrificing idiot about it and throw himself on the grenade so Jayce could live. Especially if it was something Viktor felt at all responsible for to make him extra suicidal.

2 ) Defusing Jinx's bomb in S1. In that, I think we see the clearest example of how Viktor acts under pressure when there's a threat to himself and Jayce. Like the finale, it doesn't involve Viktor trying to make an escape (his disability probably would have trained him out of such impulses by making it prohibitive for him anyway BUT, in theory, he could have thrown the grenade away and tried to get cover). In this, I think we see a lot of what Viktor is made of: when in danger, he will look for an intellectual solution and he will rely on his skills. He will not try to distance himself from the danger. He locks in, focuses, and defuses the bomb, thus saving them both. And he makes the decision in a split second. He's very cool under pressure, no flailing, he was ready for his mind to be enough to do the work or to die trying, which is also resonant with his finale attempt to save Jayce.

3 ) Even if you go back to how he rescued Jayce from his suicide attempt in 1.02, you see Viktor is cool under pressure and doesn't freak out or flail. He uses his mind and his wits to distract Jayce from the edge with a quip and then gets Jayce focused on absurdities to distract him (asking if he's "interrupting" and calling him egotistical for signing his notes clearly baffles Jayce and distracts him from his problems) and then engages Jayce with the things he cares about. Viktor is literally defusing a bomb there with his mind, just by focusing on what he's good at. In this case, talking about science to get Jayce focused on other things and, eventually, give him hope.

4 ) In general, when Viktor is doing something dangerous, he tends to try to protect Jayce by removing himself. For example, in S1 his frequent "disappearances" are certainly evocative of things he wants to spare Jayce from knowing about. He keeps Jayce out of the Hexcore experimentation. He doesn't tell him about the Shimmer hidden in his cane, or about Sky's death, which are both things that could get Jayce in trouble too.

6 ) I'd say that Viktor refusing to go on stage with Jayce was also a (misguided) attempt to protect Jayce, either from his association with a partner from the undercity that could tarnish his image, or more likely IMO, from an uncharismatic and visibly ailing partner (as Viktor sees it) who struggles on stage and could have damaged the image of their research if he flubbed the presentation. Viktor is not a natural public speaker like Jayce is and he knows it.

6 ) I would even argue that Viktor leaving Jayce after awakening from the Hex Cocoon was a subconscious attempt to protect him. Jayce had obvious injuries Viktor could have healed, but if Viktor knew deep down that healing = assimilation, and assimilation was what the Hexcore wanted, he might have fled the room before he could give in and thus saved Jayce (and the world).

7 ) Finally, we have the be-all, end-all of Viktor's attempts to save Jayce: Wizard Viktor literally visiting countless timelines not to save the world, which could easily be done by just not saving Jayce when he was a child, but specifically to find a universe where Jayce lives, finds Viktor, creates Hextech, and eventually convinces Viktor to defuse the Hexcore with him and save the world by showing him how much he loves him as he is.

So we have the wizard in the snow moment as a physical example of Viktor saving Jayce and what that looks like, but we also have the implication of these countless timelines to draw a conclusion, which is: Viktor would use his intellect to find a combination of circumstances that saves Jayce (and the world, I guess) from himself, putting himself through what is visibly years of toil, trying combination after combination to save him.

The conclusion I draw from this is that Viktor saving Jayce uses his intellect and he optimizes obsessively when able until he finds the exact right combination, even if it puts him through what might have been a living Hell. He also, again, removes himself from the situation when Jayce is in the pit, because he knows that Jayce needs to undergo this pain so he can better understand younger Viktor and get through to him, in order for Jayce to avoid an even greater pain later. Viktor is focused on the long game and uses his mind to achieve it.

TL;DR I think we can conclude that Viktor when saving Jayce from danger would be cool under pressure, would optimize to hell and back if possible, would rely on his intellect and skills almost entirely, and would be self-sacrificing to a fault. Unless it involved public speaking, then he'd probably uses his mind to find any other possible solution. He would also remove himself if he thought that would be better for Jayce. Viktor thinks long-term but is able to act quickly so long as there is an intellectual solution, and he rarely if ever relies on a physical response, most likely because he's been trained out of seeing that as an effective course for him by his disability.

Just my two (or, err, seven) cents!

#arcane #arcane meta #jayvik #viktor arcane

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twilightkitkat · 3 months ago

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Ok, listen, we all know Logan and Wade would be super protective of each other....

BUT, LISTEN TO ME

Logan "I would give my life to protect him" Howlett

AND

Wade "Dare to touch him and I will kill you in the most horrible and sadistic way possible" Wilson

Give me a Wade who is willing to burn the entire world down for Logan

Give me a Logan who is willing to protect Wade with his body to prevent him from getting hurt.

This would definitely be a great impact on them, because they both have a healing factor, people take for granted that "they're fine and don't need to worry about them", which is a clear mistake, the fact that your wounds heal does not mean that there is no pain in them.

I love this idea.

Wade and Logan are insanely protective over each other even when they're the only people who can't die. Isn't it ironic? Two immortals cradling each other with care as if they could get hurt?

Wade is willing to kill anyone for Logan. His immediate reaction to seeing Logan hurt is bloodshed. He is merciless and cruel with anyone who dares to try and hurt Logan, no matter how small of a scratch they left. He would torture someone slowly and painfully, watching the terror build and the hope seep from their face until there's only a shell of a person left.

Logan can be violent, too, but he runs more on instinct. He'd protect Wade by slashing at people, but he mainly focuses on keeping him safe. He acts as a shield, taking an onslaught of pain just to spare Wade an injury. He tackles him and covers Wade's body with his, absorbing the brunt of explosions.

Logan is the shield to Wade's sword. Logan's first instinct is to protect, to hover, to block. Wade's first instinct is to slice, to kill, to lunge. Make no mistake, though: a shield has sharp edges and a sword can still parry attacks. If the right buttons are pushed, Logan would murder anyone in his path to reach Wade and Wade would sooner let himself be killed than let enemies reach Logan. But they balance each other out, sword and shield, defense and offense, protector and attacker.

#kitkat #poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool movie #wade x logan #wade/logan #asks

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razzle-n-dazzle · 1 year ago

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hello, friend!! i saw your adam hcs and i loveddd themmm!! i was hoping to request smth if that’s okay? could we get lucifer with a reader who also struggles with depression like he does (it’s mentioned in episode five if you didn’t know!!) and maybe reader had a practically rough week and gets home from work and just breaks down in tears, and luci find a way to cheer them up? either fem! or gn! reader if that’s chill, tysm for taking your time to consider this even if you don’t get to it!!

— 🪽anon

ᯓ★ "Give Your Corpse Some Smile Lines." Lucifer / Reader | Oneshot TW! Read at your own risk and comfortability! | talks about depression, suicidal topics/actions, overdosing topics/actions, reader breaking down, hurt to comfort, self destruction, abuse

ᯓ There are days and weeks, sometimes months and years, that prolonged like time, made it appear like it no longer moved and served a purpose. Like time was nothing but a feign idea that was made to torture everyone and anyone who dared think about it, who dared to calculate how it traveled and how long it took to pass a minute. And some days it made people want to break, and some day it made people want to kill other people, and some days it made people overjoyed, and some days it made people excited, and some days it made people nervous, and some days. . . It made you want to die.

ᯓ To be killed in the most brutal fashion known to man, to explode in a death either as silent as taking your own life in your own home or as bright and fantastic as the explosion of fire works. Time for you was never a friend and it continued to taunt you after you had died, overdosing on the pain medication you were prescribed after a horrible accident. Horrific! You had heard people call you, friends and family, after they saw the state of your decaying body after being rammed by a truck who lost control. Monstrous! None of them chose to stay around, none chose to help you when you were at your weakest and worst, when you could barely help yourself. And all you had done back then was help them! Was care for them! Be there for them at any time of the day whenever they needed, whenever they wanted, whenever they asked or called or texted or shouted or pleaded or-

ᯓ And it was a coward move, you were sure. Weak, many would call it, blasphemous and you were sure it was why you never got into Heaven despite having done everything in your power to be okay, to be the perfect person everyone wanted, to be good. But one night, when everything was moving too slow and no one seemed to blink twice at your presence, you would take your own life in silence. To overdose on your own pills, both praying it wouldn't work but gain the attention of someone yet also praying it would kill you and finally let you live in peace. In a world of black nights where you didn't have to open your eyes no longer, where time wouldn't be creeping over your shoulder, where nothing would hurt anymore because dammit. . . everything hurt.

ᯓ IT ALL FUCKING HURT.

ᯓ And then you ended in hell, and then you realized this would be your life . . . and then you realized you were still stuck with your worst enemy of all: Time. Forever stuck in an eternity after life, forever stuck here by yourself, forever being another face in the crowd or another person on the street for people to pass by and not think about twice. Someone. Just someone! Not even someone, no one. Just a shell, just a person decaying on the streets, decaying for all to see. A pitiful show.

ᯓ You could hardly remember when you met Lucifer; Maybe you were down on your luck one day and was eating cold Ramen out of the streets and he took pity to sit by you, to talk to you. Maybe it was when you were at a bar, downing another drink to forget the fact that you were chained down here, chained to your enemy, chained to your eternity of a never ending moment of the hands of time. Maybe you were working your minimum wage job to barely survive, or maybe you bumped into him. You memory hadn't always been good, party due to your own mental health and a constant flight or fight response, yet you had always knew life to be so bleak before you had met him. And then one day, everything was slightly a bit more okay. And slowly everything was a little more barrable; Even just slightly.

ᯓ And maybe a life can be handled in eternity, and you didn't have to be alone anymore . . .

ᯓ Yet, no matter how much anyone wished, love cannot fix all problems. Love can teach you how to heal, love can teach you how to live, love can teach you how to handle everything inside of you in a better manner than self destruction. But love cannot instantly fix everything wrong with you; You should have realized that sooner.

ᯓ You lived a life nothing short of a fairy tale for the last few months, living life alongside a partner who you could share the weight of the world with. Who felt comfortable enough to share the weight of the world with you. Where in the days you both laughed and played, pushing and pulling each other, peppering kissing on skin and longing ones on the lips. And at night you cuddled against each other, both with the fear of losing, both with longing, both just enjoying the company you now had, that you could now share. You've already shared tears, concerns, worries, troubles. You've both been vulnerable under the other's eyes, staining shirts under the other's careful and cradling hug, broken down and rushed out apologies. You've already both taken care of each other, took your time and held patience with each other and you both tried to heal the broken pieces of one another. Most would call it a disaster, a tragedy, yet for you both . . . it was like some sort of twisted hope, knowing you were no longer alone in your self deprecation. Knowing that even if either of you tried to self destruct everything around you, tried to gain that control that's slipping away, tried to push the other away, they would understand and be there. That in the end of the day you had someone to crawl to.

ᯓ Yet even with constant oxygen and wood, a fire can still grow dim in it's own silence and try to snuff itself out.

ᯓ This week had been long, it had dragged you by the heels and you could no longer put the energy to fight against it's slowing seconds. Working a minimum wage job, even after Lucifer had told you that you never had to again (yet you continued to do so for some sort of feeling of schedule and stability), that you hated and wished you could quite for a paycheck that wasn't even that high to withstand the abuse you had to. Lucifer constantly worried about you, about how the job affected you both physically and mentally. You often came home either drained or hurt, as costumers tended to get rather violent down in Hell. It was common to be stabbed during a shift and having to endure it until your shift was over. Effectively causing you to bleed out while still having to rep a costumer service smile. And the stabbing might not even be the worst part of everything; As you had to try many times to bite back any sort of emotion, ire and frustration and sorrow, as costumers yelled, screamed, tossed shit your way for a mistake you didn't even make. And yet it was your fault. It was always your fault and you couldn't do anything but stand there and take it, as your job would be on the line if you did anything other than stand there and take the anger and take the frustrations and the yelling and the stabbing; Being everyone's personal punching bag without any sort of composition.

ᯓ What was the point of it?

ᯓ The thought had came to you one day after you came home, slugging your shoes off your feet and tossing your keys onto the counter. Lucifer wasn't home, he usually was, yet you guessed he had something better to do than hear your sorrows of the day. You would want to do anything than hear about your sorrows as well, you couldn't blame him for trying to avoid you. So you dragged yourself to the bathroom, heavily sitting down upon the close lid of the toilet before sinking down some. A hand rested upon your stomach, the knife that pierced through your side slid in between your fingers like it didn't draw your blood out. Like it wasn't causing you pain; not even the worst pain in your life, just pain that poked and pricked and brought tears to the eyes, but you were no stranger to tears or to blood. You were no stranger to the bruises that covered your body from angry costumers, from the blisters that grew from harsher treatment, from the blood that seeped and stained. And maybe you should take care of that wound, but it was best to keep a knife into the wound than take it out; It stopped bleeding and you hadn't stained that much, you didn't think, and you were oh so tired so maybe. . .just a nap would help. It didn't have to be a long one, yet something in the back of your mind hoped it would be, and you leaned your head back against the back of the toilet. The light above gave out a buzz, showing it was working, sounding that it was on and here.

ᯓ Yet a nap sounded nice.

ᯓ "Honey! I'm home!" Lucifer shout, a cheerful laugh followed and a careful grin was stretched on his face as he tried to balance the bags of groceries that were in his arms; Trying to make his one round of bringing groceries in to work. He didn't want to drop a single one of them, "I'm sorry I took so long, yet I went to the store and wow! There were a lot of options for things that I was sure I would never make it out of there! Did you know that there's like. . ." Lucifer would pause to count his fingers, having successfully delivered the bags onto the counter without breaking anything, ". . .15 different brands of milk?! And they had like this Milk called Almond milk, where they apparently milk the almond and I don't know how they do that but-" Lucifer's voice fell flat as soon as he noticed you weren't around, at least, not around as usual. By now you would have sprung from the couch, or yelled at him from the bathroom that you were doing your business, or came from the bedroom to wrap him in a hug. Yet your presence was absent and it didn't allude Lucifer, at least, not many more. "H . . . honey?" He would call out again, this time with a more shaken voice and frowned eyebrows; His smile no longer held the confidence of a man who managed to do one round of bringing groceries in with 13 bags.

ᯓ And yet you didn't respond to his call, how could you when your own breath was so shallow your heart was speeding up, stressing, just to pump blood through your body; And Lucifer grew worried. It would triple upon seeing the mess you had left, a mess that hadn't caught his eye until now. . . Your shoes left lazily by the door, your keys stained with blood. Blood that streaked like a hand across the counter top and traveled inward, towards the bathroom and it's door that lingered tauntingly open. And instantly, Lucifer felt his mouth run dry and his feet speed towards the bathroom with nothing but horrible thoughts piling up in his head. You were hurt and you weren't answering his calls. You were hurt and you weren't doing anything to signal to him that you were okay. Are you okay? Are you dead? Oh god he hoped he didn't get to that bathroom door and see your dead body there, all stained and pale. Please don't be dead, please please please. . . "OH MY GOD!-" Lucifer hated to admit the way his body froze in horror by the doorway, one hand clinging onto the frame and the other shot up to cover his mouth. He hated the way his feet stuck to the ground like they were rooted, forcing him to look at your bleeding and barely breathing figure on the floor.

ᯓ And no, he didn't miss the way your blood was smeared on the toilet. He could never miss such a detail when your blood was the last thing he ever wanted to see seep out of your body and pool and stain everything around you.

ᯓ "Oh fuck! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" The words fell out of his lips, fell onto deaf ears, as he ripped his rooted feet off the ground and rushed over to you, to your body. He felt dazed, confused, unsure of himself all of a sudden. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? "Hey, don't be dead come on!-" He didn't realize he was rambling to himself as he kneeled down next to you, not minding the way your blood seeped and stained his white clothes. He shuffled around, looking for your wound, looking for something he could fix to help you! He was so panicked, and had to stich up your wounds so often, that the thought of calling a doctor didn't cross his mind. Lucifer was hesitant to touch you, but didn't want to hurt you, "Wound, wound wound! Where the fuck is your wound?!" He asked before spotting the knife that was jagging out your side. It was mostly covered by your body, as he had happened to kneel down on the opposite side of where your wound pierced in. "Oh fucking duh, it's where the knife is. Nice job Lucifer can't spot a fucking knife when your lover is bleeding out on the floor!- Shit wait I need to actually take care of that. Fuck! Where the hell is the first aid kit?!"

ᯓ To say Lucifer was freaking out during the whole process of taking out the knife, tossing it to the side to be picked up later, disinfecting your wound, trying to stitch it up with shaking hands, and wrapping you up. . . would be an understatement. He was terrified to hold you, afraid he might make the wound worse or he might put you in more pain, yet somehow managed to move you from the bathroom floor to the couch in the living room. He would have put you to bed, at least provided your body a little more comfort, yet he was afraid to leave your side. Afraid that if he took his eyes off of you that something might happen, that you might roll onto the wound and break the sticking, that you might just stop breathing as a whole and leave him alone.

ᯓ He tried calling Charlie to help, yet physicked himself out right before he was going to press the call button. He needed some sort of help, he couldn't go through this alone, yet he didn't want to put his daughter through this either. All he could really do was find himself sitting in front of the couch, head resting upon the cushion, watching your chest rise and fall with heavy eyes; Just to reassure himself you were still here, that you were still alive and you could wake up. Maybe tomorrow? Hopefully. Maybe he should bring you to a hospital. Either way he was here, waiting, hoping.

ᯓ Fuck . . . He didn't know what he would do if you didn't wake up. But you did! By some grace of god you had happened to wake up in the middle of the night, the day after Lucifer had found you. He hadn't been awake, and you were barely moving due to the pain that jabbed at your side. Though you noticed the weight that indented the couch by the edge, slightly turning your head to see Lucifer's crossed arms and nuzzled head into it; He was sleeping, leaning against the couch while sitting on the floor. Drowsy, tired, you glanced over at the couch, wondering why he was sitting down there instead of up here with you. When did you even get to the couch? And then you noticed how you were wearing some of his clothes, with the shirt pulled up to expose your wrapped chest, the bandages still a stained a little crimson red. And you frowned, eyes heavy, looking down at the wound and realizing, at least to some sort of extent, why he wasn't up here. You had scared him . . . A heavy sigh left your lips as you reached a hand out, shaking, as you leaned down into the cushions. Gently, you placed your hand on top of Lucifer's, trying to intertwin your fingers without waking him. If anything, by the way he looked, you were sure he just managed to fall asleep . . . and most likely passed out from exhaustion rather than willingly succumbing to slumber.

ᯓ Though feeling the sudden warmth on his hands, and being half-awake and half-asleep in general, Lucifer's eyes fluttered open despite being rather heavy. He felt heavy, he felt tired . . . yet his hand felt warm, causing his eyes to glance down and notice your hand on top of his. Your hand, your thumb rubbing against his. "Love?. . ." He would mumble out, hoping this wasn't a dream, as he gently raised his head. You noticed the way his eyes sagged a little, his eyelids clearly heavy with eyebags starting to form under his eyes. The frown that had been on his face, tugged down out of pain, began, sluggishly, to tug into a warm smile. "You're awake. . . how are you feeling, do you need anything?" The way his voice croaked, clearly tired and clearly worn from tired and sobbing. His disheveled look, the way his hair was more frazzled than normal and the way his clothes were stained. It all made you upset; Not at him, no, you could never be upset at Lucifer. You were upset at yourself. For causing him so much pain, for making him probably so worried and panicked with the crawling thoughts of your death if he dared to ever take his eyes off of you.

ᯓ Lucifer, waiting for your answer, would gently bring your hand up to his cheek. He had missed your warmth, you had been so cold when he touched you last to move you from the tile of the bathroom floor to the plush cushions of the couch. He was glad that the warmth had returned to body, that he was able to watch your eyes sparkle in the dim lights that flooded in from the kitchen stove hood.

ᯓ His eyes were so gentle, his smile was so genuine, and all you managed to weakly croak out was a, "I'm sorry." And you felt bad feeling the warm tears starting to clump up in your eyes again and spill over. And you felt horrible as Lucifer shot awake, seeing your tears through the light of the kitchen, and rushed to bring his free hand up to your cheek to wipe away your tears. "I'm so sorry Lucifer I. . ." You would choked out, unsure what else to say. How else could you apologize to Lucifer when you knew that you had laid there, on the toilet, with the intention to hopefully die. And you didn't know how to tell Lucifer that to his face, especially when you've never had to tell anyone who's gotten as close to you as Lucifer has that you've thought about killing yourself. That you tried to plan it out in your shared home. Where you knew they would find you. Where you knew. . . "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're-" Lucifer paused for a second, glancing down at the side of your stomach. He had to reassure himself that you were alright before trying to comfort you, "-okay. You're okay now!" Lucifer grinned towards you, a little nervous at first before it fused out into more worry. "You're awake and you're not dying and it's okay! We can. . . talk about it all later okay? Just focus on getting better."

ᯓ You both would sit there in a comfortable, slightly-comfortable, silence as Lucifer stared up at you, and you stared back down at him. His hand, after having cleared your tears, hand reached up to play with your hair, trying to coax you back to sleep. Even when you knew he needed sleep himself, with the way his heavy eyes closed for long periods of time before opening again to meet mine. "Come here. . ." You would mumble, trying to reach for Lucifer, wanting to feel his warmth against yours. He was hesitant to do so, you could tell by the way his eyebrows scrunched upward and the frown that tugged on his lips. It took a while to coax him onto the couch, where even then he gingerly laid on his side and wrapped his arms cautiously a safe place above your bandages and nuzzled his head between the crook of your neck. You were able to play with his hair this time, give him a soft peck on the forehead. A silent apology for all the pain he had to endure because of you without you there to help, without the support he had shown you countless of times without fail.

ᯓ "I. . ." Lucifer's voice warily mumbled out, ". . .thought I was going to lose you." And the way his voice cracked broke your heart into a million pieces. And the only pathetic response you could muster back to him was a soft, shaken, "I'm sorry." As tears silently began to fall down your cheeks, and you could feel the silent tears that fell from Lucifer's eyes stain your neck. "I'm. . . so, so sorry. . ." "It's okay. . ." Lucifer would hug you a little tighter, "We'll work through it together, you're not going to lose me that easily, even if-" He would pause, choking out a bit of laughter between his tears, "-you try yourself."

ᯓ Oh. . . he knew. . .

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cosmerelists · 25 days ago

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Cosmere Characters' Projects at a Middle School Science Fair

As requested by anon. :)

If Cosmere characters were children creating projects for their middle school science fair, what kinds of projects would they do? Per anon's request, it's Stormlight & Mistborn characters, and there are no WAT spoilers here!

1. Navani: Emulsion

Baby Navani: See? I put oil and water in this jar, and they don't mix at all! Baby Navani: But if I add an egg yolk and shake REALLY hard, then they do! Baby Navani: [beaming proudly]

2. The Lord Ruler: Baking Soda Volcano

Baby Lord Ruler: And when I add the vinegar (dyed black of course), then the volcano EXPLODES! Nearby Parent: H-Hey kid! Your volcano is getting EVERYWHERE! Baby Lord Ruler: Just as I planned.

3. Kelsier: Invisible Ink

Baby Kelsier: What's this? Just a blank piece of paper? Baby Kelsier: No! If I heat up this "blank" piece of paper, a secret message appears! Judge (reading): "You...have...won...the...science...fair?" Baby Kelsier: Wow, thanks!

4. Rlain: Tests Growing Conditions

Baby Rlain: And this is the control sunflower, which was grown normally... Baby Rlain: And this is the one I sang to! Judge: Wow! It's HUGE! Baby Rlain: [beaming]

5. Tien: Rock Collection

Baby Tien: And this is my rock collection! Baby Tien: All the rocks are very pretty! Judge: They certainly are. Which is your favorite? Baby Tien: All of them, of course!

6. Ham: Tests Human Psychology

Baby Ham: This is a chocolate bar, and this is two people standing back to back! Baby Ham: They hold up one finger if they want to split the chocolate bar, and two fingers if they want the whole chocolate bar. Baby Ham: If they both hold up one finger, they split it! If they both hold up two fingers, then they don't get anything. Baby Ham: But if one holds up one finger and one holds up two fingers, then Two Fingers gets the whole thing and One Finger gets nothing! Judge: Wow! And how's it going? Baby Ham: I hope this early look into the darkness of humanity doesn't affect me, ha ha!

7. Lift: Makes Ice Cream in a Bag

Baby Lift: [eating ice cream out of the bag while humming] Judge 1: Hmm...isn't that the kid who made sugar crystals last year? Judge 2: I think so, why? Judge 1: No reason I guess.

8. Dalinar: Potato Battery

Baby Dalinar: I made it because batteries are cool. Baby Dalinar: I wish I could be a big battery one day, supplying everyone with power. Judge: What

9. Steris: Elephant Toothpaste

Baby Steris (wearing goggles): ...And then, if I add the yeast-water mixture into my soap-peroxide mixture, it all foams up!! Baby Steris: Safe explosions are fun!

10. Wayne: Trades a Paperclip Into a Bicycle

Baby Wayne: And through a series of trades, I was able to take my paperclip and eventually end up with a bicycle! Judge: Wow, very industrious! What was the hardest trade? Baby Wayne: They're all pretty easy if you don't ask first! Judge: ... Baby Wayne: What?

11. Vin: Tests What Shape of Knife Flies The Farthest When Thrown

Baby Vin: [humming to herself as she flips a knife around in her hands] Judge 1: S-Someone should take all those knives away from that child! Judge 2: W-We tried!

12. Kaladin: Egg Drop

Baby Kaladin: Lots of eggs perished in my experiments. Baby Kaladin: ...Too many good eggs. Baby Kaladin: But eventually I figured it out! [Holds up egg completely covered in bubble wrap] This egg will never die! Judge: [peering at photographs on poster board] Is...this egg covered in the shells of other eggs? Baby Kaladin (stone-faced): I was pretty desperate at that point.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Navani #Kaladin #Vin #Kelsier #Hammond #Lift #Tien #Wayne #Steris #Lord Ruler #Rlain

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stargirlygirl · 23 days ago

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their omega

જ⁀➴ epilogue

alpha! bakugou, kirishima, denki, sero x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is 3-4 months pregnant, smau + fic

m.list

a/n: '🌽⭐️s' gc from denki's pov + thank you at the end

fic underneath smau

You’re sitting on the floor, hiding behind a cart of pumpkins. Your arms are wrapped around your belly as you try to take deep breaths. You shudder as a villain’s footsteps thud nearby, and they cackle. The sound is as sick as you felt this morning.

Three villains have taken hold of your local grocery store. They’re dressed in black and strutting around, guns glittering on their belts. You’re one of the lucky ones (not for long, though). Two rather troublesome hostages have already been knocked out. You whine softly as you catch the scent of the villain closest to you. An alpha. They smell so sour to you, nothing at all like your alphas.

Your little noise catches their attention. With a derisive laugh, they round the cart and yank you up to standing by your hair. You shriek out in fright, your hands grasping their wrist. The villain stares at you with twisted eyes and a blood-curdling smirk.

They grunt, “What do we have ‘ere, huh?” They grip your chin harshly and tilt your head back, gazing over your mating marks.

“Little slut, aren’t cha? Don’t mind being shared around, do you?” They laugh bitterly. You whine, unable to respond. All you can think about is your small bump, your growing baby. If anything were to happen to you, to your baby— The thought is too cruel to finish.

They chuckle before shoving you back. You fall into the arms of another villain. They curl around you like thorns, pricking you with disgust.

“Get off me!” You shout as you struggle forward, wriggling in their strong grasp. The second villain presses their gun to the side of your throat harshly, making you whine.

You still, as they say, low in your ear, “You move, you die. Is that clear?” You gulp and gaze down at the floor, trying to steady your breathing as you still. The second villain bellows, causing an uproar of laughter from the first villain in front of you, gazing at you hungrily.

“So pretty, right?” The first villain mocks. “Such a shame she’s taken,” they continue. The second villain shakes their head as they press the gun harder into your neck, making you whine loudly. Their hold on your upper body tightens, too. You just wanna knee them in the stomach and make a run for it, but you don’t want to end up like the other bold hostages or even worse off.

The second villain suggests, “I don’t mind. We could still have some fun with her.” They whisper in your ear, “How does that sound, omega?”

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

Dynamight watches with grit teeth and tight fists from outside as the two villains speak to his mate.

He grunts, “What’s taking so long?!” The angry blond stomps up to Ingenium.

Jabbing a finger into his chest plate, he yells, “YOU SAID YOU HAD IT UNDER CONTROL!” A tanned hand clasps Katsuki’s shoulder, pulling him back.

“Calm down, Bakubro—”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, SHITTY HAIR!” Dynamight yells.

Red Riot says low, “You’re not the only one who’s worried about her.” Turning to a stone-faced Ingenium, Riot continues, “We will be moving in soon though, won’t we?” Ingenium nods while pushing up his glasses.

He says, “We’re planning to enter through both the front and back doors. Rescue efforts will be concentrated in the back while a diversion is created at the front.”

Riot nods and says, “I’ll take the back then. Bakubro, you bait the villains.”

The angry blond mutters, “I’ll do a lot more than that.”

Ingenium clears his throat before saying, “I hope you don’t mind my saying this but, is it really a good idea for you to be aiding our rescue efforts?”

Dynamight barks, “WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” Riot pulls the blond back by the shoulder again like he’s a rabid animal on a leash.

Ingenuim responds, “Your emotions will cloud your judgement. Wouldn’t it be better to sit back and let us handle this?” The explosive hero does as his name suggests and goes off at the speed hero, yelling about how he’s the best hero here and that he should be leading the rescue efforts instead. The commotion catches the attention of Cellophane and Chargebolt, who are watching everything unfolding inside the store, as well as the police on site. Riot ends up dragging the foaming blond away for a quick timeout.

After he’s calmed down (enough), the pros gather around and discuss their rescue plan.

Within a few minutes, the front window of the grocery store is shattered from Dynamight’s explosion. The hostages scream and duck while the villains release you with wide eyes. They were too busy discussing the 101 (repulsive) ways they wanted to have some ‘fun’ with you to notice the heroes spreading out around the store.

Broken glass crunches beneath Dynamight’s boots as he stalks forward and blasts the fumbling third villain. The first villain opens fire while the second cocks his gun and drags you toward the pro hero.

The villain laughs manically, “This what you’re ‘ere for?” Dynamight’s brows furrow deeply as he takes in the sickening sight of his omega in another’s arms, the gun barrel bruising your tender flesh. You squirm in the villain’s hold as you whine, trying to wriggle free and run to your alpha.

Your angry blond grunts, “Take your filthy hands off her or you’ll lose ‘em.” The villain cackles and tightens his grip on the trigger. You can hear the creaking of the gears, ready to fire at any moment. You whine loudly, gazing at Dynamight with big eyes and a pout on your lips.

“Please,” you cry out as the villain slides the barrel down your neck, resting it on Denki’s mating mark. Revulsion builds in your stomach, bile threatening to rise in your throat from how disgusted you are right now. Your scent turns rotten. No one but your alphas are allowed to touch your marks.

You scrunch your eyes as you hear the creaking become louder. If this is the end—

BANG!

Warm, familiar arms grasp you tight as your eyes shoot open. Dynamight holds you close, his sputtering heart pressed against yours. Behind you, Cellophane’s tape snaps from the ceiling as he body slams the villain to the floor. The gun skids across the floor. A missed shot.

Dynamight says quietly, “Let’s go.” He loops an arm beneath your legs and runs you out of the store, your face buried in his neck and hands curled into fists, clutching his costume. He passes you to someone else. Someone who you’ve missed dearly.

His lean arms hold you tight as you open your eyes. Your sunshine boy stares down at you with knitted brows and slightly parted lips.

“Are you okay, mama?” He asks, concern lacing his voice as he sets you down. You nod frantically and wrap your arms around his solid torso, smothering yourself with his refreshing scent. Unable to hold back any longer, tears slide down your cheeks as you sob into your alpha. He coos to you that you’re safe now as his large hands rub your back soothingly. You lay your soul bare to him in the way you choke on your tears, letting all of the fear and pain rise to the surface.

You stutter into his shirt, “I-I wa-was s-so scare-scared.” The words come out muffled from how hard you’re pressing your body against him. He shushes you and rocks you gently from side to side.

“Honey!” You turn around, sniffling, as you see your redhead running toward you. Denki eases his grip on you as Eijiro halts in front of you.

“Eiji!” You cry out, throwing yourself into his open arms. He squeezes you tight into his bare muscles, the sight and feel of him heavenly. He gently strokes your hair as you sob, your tears streaming down his abs.

“We were so worried about you, baby. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you,” he mutters into your locks. You shake your head and pull back slightly. You stare up at him, sniffling. He thumbs your cheeks, wiping away your tears before placing a soft kiss on your sweaty forehead.

Your voice is thick with sorrow and regret as you mutter, “N-no. I-I should ha-have jus-just w-waited. I-I—” Eijiro leans down and hugs you even tighter as you sob hard into the side of his neck.

Soon, your other alphas come over and give you cuddles. They reassure you that you’re okay and apologise for not being by your side when all of this happened. You choke on your sobs as you shake your head and reassure them that it was your mistake, not theirs.

When the sun’s chariot is pulled closer to the horizon, Hanta carries you home while your other alphas stay back to take care of everything. He sets you down on the couch and tenderly kisses you before running off to the kitchen to make you some tea. By the time he returns, you’re curled up in the corner of the sofa beneath a blanket you made a couple of months ago. You grasp the mug of steaming tea with both hands and thank him as he sits beside you.

He asks you worriedly, “You sure you’re okay? Not even one scratch you need me to take care of.”

You shake your head, saying sadly, “Not even one.” You steady the mug in one hand and grab his with your other. You place his palm on your belly through the blanket, gazing down and then back up at him with a small smile on your lips. Hanta sighs and gently rolls his thumb across your small bump. He laughs softly, smiling as he looks at you with kind eyes.

“Anything you need, love?” He asks gently. “Are you having any cravings right now? You must be hungry. The little one too.” The lazy grin on his mouth and soft gaze on your tummy melt your heart.

You hum and say, “Peanut butter… and takoyaki.” Your mate chuckles and shakes his head. He rises from the couch and gives you a quick peck before heading back to the kitchen. As he heats last night’s takoyaki in the microwave, he hears the front door thud open. You place your mug down in your lap as you listen to your alpha’s muffled conversation and their feet thumping on the wooden floor.

After a minute or two, Denki pokes his head into the living room. His face lights up as he sees you.

He squeals “Mama!” as he runs up to you. He grabs your mug and sets it down on the floor before wrapping his arms around you. Your alpha squeezes you nice n’ tight before easing off and sitting beside you.

He rambles, “You okay now, mama? That must have been so scary for you. It was kinda scary for me, too. Are you feeling better now? Where’s Hanta? Did he disappear on you?” You shake your head as you giggle.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m okay,” you say quietly. Your eyes flicker to Eijiro as he comes up to you and hugs you briefly. He places your mug back in your hands, and you thank him. He then sits next to Denki. With a hand on the blond’s shoulder, he asks if you need anything. You point to Hanta as he walks into the living room holding a tray.

You thank him as he sets it down on your lap. You grin as you pick up your chopsticks and grab one of the fried balls. You dip it into the peanut butter in a separate, small bowl and nod your head happily as you pop it in your mouth. You moan in delight as you taste the perfect salty-sweet crispiness of the combo.

Hanta chuckles as he leans against the arm of the couch, watching you fondly. You gaze at the alphas in front of you and ask about what happened after you left. They inform you that the villains have been taken into custody and the other hostages are safe. Luckily, no one was severely injured during the rescue efforts. The boys had stayed back to write up a report.

You hum as you munch on your takoyaki, listening to Denki yap away. As you take a bite of a particularly crunchy ball, Katsuki stalks into the room. He’s changed into his usual black sweatpants and t-shirt, and his blond locks drip on the fabric. The room quietens at his arrival.

He grunts out, “You shouldn’t have gone out alone.” You hum and nod submissively.

“I know—”

“What if we couldn’t save you? Did you think about that?!” He crosses his arms tight as he glares at you, yelling, “GOD YOU’RE SO DUMB SOMETIMES—”

“Bakubro,” Eijiro gets off the couch and stands between you two, blocking your angry blond’s view of you.

“Move,” Katsuki says scathingly. Your redhead doesn’t even flinch.

He says calmly, “If you’re looking for someone to blame, then blame me. You said you would, anyway. It’s my fault. I wasn’t cautious enough, and our little bee got hurt.”

“DAMN RIGHT!” Katsuki shouts. He leans over Eijiro, exploding about how fucking stupid the redhead was by letting you go out unprotected and whatnot. His yelling makes you whine and pout. Hanta notices the sour notes of your scent and the way you clutch your little bump (Denki’s too busy egging on the fight).

He shouts, “Alright, alright, enough. You’re upsetting our mate.” He leans down and kisses the top of your head, earning a sigh from you. You tilt your head back and gaze up at him, thanking him softly. He hums and pats your head, putting you at ease.

With a grumble, Katsuki stalks past Eijiro and comes over to you. He grabs your empty tray and shoves it in Hanta’s hands. Your angry blond then grumbles about how the others should get changed. As they leave the room, they cast concerned glances your way. You give Denki a thumbs up as he sticks his head back in.

Hearing their footsteps fade, Katsuki plops down beside you. He mumbles, “Y’such a brat, ya know?” You hum and pull the blankets up tighter, desperate for comfort and warmth. Your mate doesn’t miss you curling in on yourself. He places his hand on your knee and thumbs it soothingly.

He grumbles, “Missed ya. A lot.” You nod as you place your hand on his atop your knee. You catch his gaze, seeing his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. His breathing is so shallow. You whine at his frustration, gently squeezing his wrist.

Katsuki grunts, “C’mere,” as he leans over and sits you in his lap, blankets draped across the both of you. You melt upon feeling his heat, relaxing into his body with a sigh. You bury your face in his neck, revelling in his scent as you breathe deeply. His strong arms hold you tight like he’s afraid you’ll be taken away from him (because he is).

You giggle as he wipes his palm on the blanket before cupping your small bump through the delicate fabric. He sighs and kisses your brow, muttering against your skin how you shouldn’t scare him like that again. You continue to hold each other even as your other alphas drift back into the living room.

That night, each of your mates cuddle with you on the couch as you watch your favourite animated film. When it finishes, you sigh and smile lazily as you snuggle into Eijiro’s chest. He chuckles deeply, the sound so calming and reassuring to your ears. You softly purr as he caresses your belly and peppers kisses across your forehead and cheeks.

“Eiji,” you say quietly. He hums as he kisses your temple sweetly. You sigh, “M’tired.” He squeezes your shoulder before whispering for you to hold on. He lifts you easily and whisks you off to your bedroom.

As he approaches your door, you whine, “I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight.”

Your mate says in that gentle voice, “Who do you wanna sleep with tonight, princess?” You hum as you think, your grasp on his neck tightening.

“Youuuuu,” you coo. “Or Kami,” you add as an afterthought. “Orrrrr Suki or Hanta.” Your alpha laughs at your uncertainty.

He says lightly, “D’you wanna sleep with all of us?” You hum, nodding.

Your boys would do anything for you. Even rearrange the living room and break out the emergency futons at 10pm because you want to be with them all tonight. You clap happily as you walk back into the living room (you were ordered by your angry blond to get ready for bed while they took care of the rest).

Hanta wraps an arm around your shoulders as he leads you to the centre of the fluffy white futons. He points and says, “You lay down here, okay?” You nod before pressing a brief kiss to his jaw. He holds your hands as you sit on the futon (cause bub makes everything so hard😒). You watch amused as the boys proceed to fight over who gets to sleep next to you.

Your quiet voice catches their attention as you say, “It doesn’t matter. I just wanna be with you all tonight, m’kay?” Their arguing ceases, and eventually, you all lie together beneath fuzzy blankets and fresh linen. Denki turns off the light and collapses on top of Katsuki next to you, making the angry blond grunt and shove him off in the dark. You laugh, feeling the rocking of their bodies beside you.

You curl up into Katsuki’s chest as your heart and mind slow. He rubs your waist tenderly, his nose nuzzled into your messy locks. When you roll over, Eijiro pulls you into him. Katsuki grumbles behind you, and you laugh tiredly. Your hand rests on your redhead’s heart, rising and falling with his chest. One of his large palms caresses your belly while the other strokes the hair back from your face.

Their presence lulls you into a deep sleep. One of those rare ones where you feel so safe and free, floating upon the highest clouds.

You may have been unsure in the beginning, but looking back, you wouldn’t have done things any other way. You’re exactly where you want to be. And with your alphas beside you, there’s nothing you can’t survive.

Thank you so much for sticking around to the end! I really appreciate all of the support you've shown for this series mwah.

It's my first ever smau + fic series, and I've really enjoyed it. All of your likes, comments, and reblogs mean so much to me. You've made all of the hours of writing and editing worth it!

I hope you stick around and explore my blog!

taglist - @qyuin @nervoussangel @xxdiaqiaoxx @misscaller06 @kksmush @cielito--lindo @kennygou @tnywabbit @ita606 @sweet-apple-acres @nombakugoswife1

#★’s works #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha omegaverse #denki x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima x you #sero x reader

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confessedlyfannish · 1 year ago

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #10

Damian wakes up to low-pitched arguing, and in his daze thinks the hand running through his hair is Richard's.

"S'rry," he murmurs, turning his cheek into the hand. His head hurts, and Richard's hand is cool against his cheek, delicate nails ghosting over his scalp.

Hm. Richard does not have delicate nails. Nor a woman's voice.

"-lty is to Danny, all you've done is put a bigger target on our backs!"

"So be it," the young woman says, voice measured. It's her hand that's in Damian's hair. He'd pull away but his body is weighed down, eyelids barely ably to slip open to grab a glimpse of ginger hair before slamming shut again.

He's...drugged. He thinks. Nothing he recognizes immediately, but it's been a while since his poisoning sessions and thinking right now is difficult. His mask is still on, which means his identity is intact. There's nothing he can do except hope it will stay that way.

And so he sinks back under.

Some time later, he resurfaces with more lucidity. He's still costumed, mask on. His body still feels heavy, but this time he can wedge his eyes open enough to catch three figures next to the bed he now lies on. The redhead stands closest.

"--you an out," she is saying, her back to Damian. The other two, a pale girl with pitch black hair and a boy wearing a red cap, look at each other.

"That's not what we're asking for, and you know it!" The pale girl yells.

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't take it." The woman says, her voice extremely level in comparison. This only seems to agitate the girl further.

"Team Phantom means we make decisions as a team, Jazz." The boy says through grit teeth. "And if you had run this by us, we would've,"

"Said no--" the pale girl says, meanly.

"--At least figured out a better way," the boy says, head turning sharply towards the girl. "Between this and Jefferson you've been making really rash choices. We can't find Danny if we get caught by the Justice Loogies--"

"Team Phantom," the redhead interrupts. She turns towards Damian, and if she notices he's awake, she doesn't say anything. "You really don't get it, do you. There is no Team Phantom, because Danny's gone. We're not going to find him."

"Stop eating their bs--"

"Stop living in denial, Sam. Both of you. We can't find Danny because Danny's not anywhere to be found."

"They wouldn't get rid of him--"

"Why wouldn't they? Don't you see?" Jazz says, whirling around. She waves a blurry arm in Damian's direction.

"They can recreate the experiment anytime they want. And they do want. They found his genetic doppelgänger when they got their hands on Robin's blood. That's what they had on file in Jefferson."

Jefferson, Damian thinks. It's familiar. Information starts to filter in. It's not a person, but a place. There was an explosion at a government facility. Blew up three city blocks. 45 Casualties.

The redhead's a terrorist. He thinks. Redhead.

Fuck. She'd been getting mugged. He'd rescued her. Her face had been bruised.

She'd wanted to go to the hospital. Held onto his cape for dear life. Flinched back from Richard.

He'd smirked at Grayson before offering to escort her.

He'd felt important.

...He'd been an idiot.

"--You really think he'd just hand him over?"

"I don't know anything about Batman," the girl says. "But I'm not letting another brother die."

There's a sharp inhale, and neither side speaks.

"So that's it," the pale girl says. "You give up and immediately go get a replacement?"

"Sam..." the boy says warningly.

"Danny would want me to protect him," Jazz says. "So that's what I'm going to do. And you are free to leave."

"You're acting fucking crazy," Sam says. "And you're too deep in your grief to realize it. Danny would want none of this."

"Well then maybe it's a good thing he's not here," Jazz says, "Maybe I should be thanking you two instead."

The resulting silence is so sharp Damian hears only the sound of his own breaths.

"Fuck you," the girl spits, a door slamming a split second later. The boy doesn't say a word, crossing over to Damian.

"I'm going to keep looking, Jazz," he says, after a long moment. "I'm going to find him. Because he's alive."

Jazz doesn't respond.

"Listen, they found Robin's blood, right? They don't know who he is, so if we tell him to stop with the costume, lay low-"

"They'll finger prick all of Gotham if they have to. You know that. They can't get to him here, not with the portals and research destroyed. Even if they catch Mom and Dad, the ghosts will rip them to pieces if they ever step foot in the zone."

Jazz steps closer to Damian. "Here, Superman won't be able to hear his heartbeat."

"What happens when he wakes up? Wants to go home? He must have a family out there, he can't be Robin 24/7."

"You know I used to read to Danny?" Jazz says. Her voice is distant. "Every night before bed. He'd never heard a fairy tale before. He could read, of course, but he liked the way—" Jazz swallows. "He liked the way I did the voices. We were supposed to be in bed by 9 but when Mom would come to check on us we'd just pretend we were asleep. Danny was really good at it, but I could always tell when he was pretending."

A hand brushes through his hair again.

"You really are his twin, Damian."

Damian opens his eyes and sits up as the boy, a teenager his own age, takes a startled step back. Jazz, yes, the woman he'd 'rescued', smiles warmly at him.

He's in a canopied bed, surrounded by rich fabrics and what looks to be purple-bricked walls. There's a green tinted window to his right. Bookshelves with old looking tomes lines the walls and a suit of armor stands by the door. He notes the mace in its hands. With any luck, it won't be welded to the gloves.

"Danyal is dead," he says shortly. Jazz's smile turns sad.

"Yes," she takes his hand. "I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. He was so brave—,"

Damian yanks his hand away. "No, he's not newly dead, he's been dead. For years."

Jazz shakes her head, that same sad condescending smile on her face. "No, Danny didn't die. He escaped the League. He told me all about you. He," her voice wobbles, "he loved you very much."

Damian's blood churns. "You're lying."

"He lived, and he was a hero, like you. He helped people. And then he became a King," Jazz says. She continues to smile, even as tears start to trail down her face. "Which makes you a prince."

She sounds, to quote Sam, fucking crazy. And now that he can see the manic gleam in her eyes, she looks it too. Damian shoots an incredulous glance at the boy, but he refuses to make eye contact.

Jazz stands up and opens her arms out, gesturing to the room. "This was his home. And now it's yours."

Damian weighs his responses. Remembers Dick's lessons in diplomacy.

And still chooses the nuclear option: "If you know of the League then you know what it means to be the heir of Ra's Al Ghul. I will not be made into a prisoner and if you attempt to keep me here, you will be sorry."

The boy mouths "the league" to himself, questioningly, but Jazz doesn't so much as flinch.

"I know this is a long to take in," she says, voice dripping with sympathy. "But I promise, it will all make sense, and in time you'll come to adjust. Let's let Damian rest, Tucker."

The boy, Tucker, looks at him now with a troubled gaze, but when Jazz opens the door he reluctantly walks out. Jazz pauses in the doorway.

"Damian," she says, that same far off tone in her voice, her back to him. "Danny used to tell me about the League's code. Hunting down those that threatened its power without ceasing. Ensuring every target was dead. No mission left uncompleted. No failure tolerated."

Jazz looks back at him, a small serene smile on her face. "I'm going to avenge our brother Damian. I'm going to hunt down every last one of them. Without ceasing. Without failure. You have my word."

She cocks her head at him thoughtfully. "Danny loved macadamia nut muffins. I'll pick us up some on my way back. A welcome home present."

She strides out the door. Damian waits to hear a lock turn, but there is nothing but the sound of her fading footsteps. He waits until the noise has fully faded before he attempts to stand, glaring at his legs until they sluggishly begin to respond.

A squeaking noise erupts from the far wall and he watches in disbelief as the suit of armor creakily moves to stand in front of the door. Sufficiently positioned, it ceases all movement once more. However, now Damian can make out the two glowing red dots staring straight through the slits of its helm.

Damian's lip curls up in a wicked snarl that Jason calls feral as it becomes clear the guard is not going to attack but rather...guard. He heads for the window instead and stops short as he gets his first peek of the outside.

The window is not tinted green at all. Instead, for as far as he can see, there is an unnatural, electric green. Blobs of more of the green float and drift through the expanse, as if he is trapped in a lava lamp.

Here, Superman won't be able to hear his heartbeat.

"Where am I?" Damian asks, staring out into the void. This whole time he's been angry, and embarrassed, and annoyed. But for the first time since this ordeal began, he feels afraid.

"Where am I?"

#danny phantom #batman #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #Jazz absolutely has the propensity to go batshit #I'm into it #damian wayne #danyal al ghul #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #Jazz: as a psych major I fully recognize I am disassociating #Jazz: honestly? kinda rad #Jazz: I get the hype now

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