#1 tender portal

[fangswbenefits]

Obsession

Summary: Miguel tries to convince himself that his obsession with you was justified, but fails miserably as you spend the night over.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Inexperienced reader. Breeding kink. Sexual tension and frustration. Reader has nipple piercings.

Previous parts: 1 & 2 (you may enjoy this one separately, but might miss out on some context)

Miguel tried to convince himself that adding a mic to your digital suit was purely for safety purposes.

He really did try.

But he couldn’t keep from listening in when you first wore it on your way to the spider cafeteria.

He had just briefed a squad and was monitoring Nueva York through a multitude of hovering screens, as he stood on his platform.

Tapping quickly on the flickering surface, he was able to zoom in on you through the ceiling cameras.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

The suit fit you like a glove and left little to the imagination. He was proud of his work. You deserved wearing something of his for everyone to see.

He saw you approaching a nearby table, taking a seat. In front of you were Jessica Drew and Peter B. Parker with Mayday who greeted you with warm smiles.

The sound of your voice echoed through the walls around him, as you extended your arms.

“Mayday! Baby! It’s so good to see you!”

The little girl broke into a giggle and began wriggling forward on Peter’s lap to reach you.

You promptly took her in your arms. “Did you miss me? Did you?” your voice was slight high-pitched and you wiggled your fingers, tickling her. “Oh, I have a present for her.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you,” Peter beamed.

“I don’t have it here, but I think she’ll love it,” you said, patting Mayday’s back lightly, earning a genuine hug from her.

Miguel felt his heart clench violently.

You were a natural with kids.

You were just too good to be true and he felt his hands clench tightly.

Would he ever be able to have you? To make you yearn for him? To breed you? To have children with you?

“Wait, is that a… digital suit?” Jessica’s voice cracked through the mic.

You had your back turned to him, so he couldn’t see your face, but he felt the warmth in your voice as you spoke, “It sure is!”

He groaned lowly.

There you were… his sweet girl.

“Who gave it to you?”

“Miguel,” you said with that tenderness he had grown to adore.

He could easily get addicted to you saying his name, and he could only hope that, one day, he might hear it a much more compelling setting.

“Miguel… O’Hara?”

You nodded.

From the screen he could see her exchanging looks with Peter.

“It looks really cool!” Peter smiled enthusiastically, inspecting your sleeves. “Wish he’d offer me one, too.”

Jessica chuckled. “Well, I’ve been here with him for months and he’s never given me one.”

Jessica…

It was to be expected. She was no fool. He had scouted her precisely because she was anything but that.

You had been recruited only three weeks ago, but the hold you had on him was tight. He had never felt this way before with someone else.

You straightened in your seat, as Mayday nibbled on your thumb. “Wait… do you think I should give it back?”

Miguel felt his heart jumpstart and panic build inside him.

“No — no! Jessica,” Perer shot her a glare who merely shrugged, before offering you a kind smile. “It looks great on you. Did you pick the colours?”

“Yes! I’m really happy with the final result,” you said, helping Mayday sit at the edge of the table, as you secured her with both hands. “It was his way of showing gratitute.”

Jessica snapped her fingers after taking a sip of her drink. “You’re helping him out with the portals, right?”

“We’re working on portal stabilisation and reduced motion sickness,” you said and he could almost taste the pride and passion in your voice. “We’re making some progress.”

Miguel had gotten used to the random erections you’d awake from him throughout the day. But this one felt particularly painful.

You were so smart and so devoted. He couldn’t even take credit for the progress, because it was mostly just you.

His sweet and clever girl.

He glanced down at the outline of his strained cock, clicking his tongue.

By the time his eyes settled on the monitor, Jessica had walked away momentarily and he saw Peter lean in.

“Hey… are you and Miguel… a thing?”

Miguel froze.

Mayday proceeded to wrap tiny fingers around some of his locks, tugging lightly.

He wish he could have seen your reaction.

“Oh! No! No… we’re just friends,” you quickly said, waving your hands rapidly. “He’s like a mentor to me, really.”

Anger flared inside him. A friend? A mentor? He knew deep down this made absolute sense, but it still made him seething with rage.

Peter didn’t seem all that convinced, but nodded. “Just wondering. He’s not usually this… kind?”

Miguel felt his fangs threaten to emerge as he gritted his teeth.

There had been nothing kind about him building you a suit. He hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart.

He wanted to claim you and this had been the easiest and safest way for now.

“Well, I know he’s a grumpy,” you chuckled with a shrug, as you patted Mayday on the back. “Maybe he’s changing?”

You wouldn’t want him to change. Not really. The level of devotion he had for you was unmatched and nothing you could ever have from someone else.

“Maybe you’re a good influence on him?” Peter concluded, tapping his chin. “As a friend, of course.”

“Peter….” he growled lowly.

“As a friend,” you nodded. “Besides, there’s…” but your voice trailed off.

His erection nearly immediately deflated as dread took over.

There’s what?

He turned up the mic’s volume, but winced instead, as you banged on the table.

You cleared your throat. “Well, gotta go! I have work to do.”

Peter took Mayday back into his lap and chuckled. “Don’t forget her present!”

“I won’t! Wish me luck, though,” you said, crossing your fingers as you started to walk away. “I really need these chips to stop blowing and melting on me!”

“Good luck! Say bye bye, Mayday,” Peter waved his hand, which the little girl promptly mimicked with a giggle.

“Bye, baby!” you beamed.

Miguel had had enough.

He switched off your mic with a tap on his watch.

He really had tried to convince himself that his obsession for you was justified. That is was rooted in more than lust and desire, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

After you moved to Nueva York, he had you working closely to him on portal stabilisation.

But what had started out as something innocent, soon shifted into something else entirely.

Your company brought him peace and quiet, and ticket his brain just the right way to keep him motivated.

Until it didn’t.

Until you became his torment.

He had let you in his life in the hopes that you let him in yours.

The first time you gave him a boner was when he walked in on you in the lab, wearing nothing but a tank top and a pencil pressed firmly in between your lips, as you moved from screen to screen to check on the update progress.

The worst part? You didn’t even notice how utterly delicious you looked and how he could easily bend you over and take you right there.

No.

You just offered him a sweet smile.

One he hadn’t recovered from ever since.

“Miguel?”

He jolted as the voice snapped him from his torturous thoughts. “What?”

Lyla hovered nearby, eyeing him closely. “Fangs out,” she wiggled her index finger disapprovingly. “Pavitr and Hobie are waiting for you.”

His fangs retracted slowly as he tried to gain his composure back. “Why?”

“Mission?” she quirked an eyebrow.

Right.

“Now?”

“You’re already late.”

He growled, tapping on a few screens hurriedly.

“Oh, and Miguel?”

“What?”

The hologram popped near the screen to his left. “You might want to be more subtle when using her in-suit mic.”

He gave her narrow side-glace. “What do you mean?”

“Just saying,” she said, adjusting her heart-shapped glasses. “You’re not the only tech savvy spider here.”

The door to his apartment swung open at once, and he stepped inside ready to decompress from the tiresome mission.

He had made plans with some of your audio recordings and his hand, hoping that would be enough to easy the pent-up tension that had been looming over year throughout the way.

It was a less than ideal situation, but would have to do for now.

That was until he noticed his living room was lit.

Pacing rapidly he was met with you.

In the middle of a pile of papers and electronic components scattered around the floor, he saw you sitting cross-legged with a pencil danging from your lips, his digital suit clinging tightly to your body.

“What are you doing here?”

Your bead snapped in his direction and the pencil tumbled to the floor. “Miguel! Lyla let me in.”

He was rooted in place.

Had it been someone else, he would have flung them through the window with no warning.

But you weren’t just someone.

And Lyla wouldn’t have let someone else enter his apartment, either.

“It’s quite late,” he said, pacing carefully toward you as not to step on anything. “You could have called me.”

You waved a hand dismissively and held a circular metallic object in the other. “Catch!”

Before he could say anything back, you had tossed it in his direction, which he quickly grabbed in between his fingers.

“Found what was wrong with it,” you smiled proudly. “It was stupid of me, really. There wasn’t any thermal paste in it. That’s why it kept blowing up.”

Miguel stared at the chip in his hand and blinked a few times.

“I assumed you were using it from the start,” he said, inspecting the cross section.

You rose to your feet in an instant and joined his site, excitement spilling from you. “These ion batteries should not require thermal paste — not for this amount of energy, at least. But yeah… my bad,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

Miguel locked eyes with yours and felt a familiar tingle in his body.

Fuck.

You were just so ridiculously attractive, and he wish he could hear you ramble about tech and science for hours.

“This is really, really good news,” he said genuinely, handing the chip back to you.

He squeezed your arm lightly as encouragement, knowing fully well he should be rewarding you in other ways.

His sweet girl…

You darted back to the floor, gathering some papers. “Sorry for the mess. I just had to figure this out and couldn’t sleep.”

A scientist at heart, you were.

Blood began to rush to his groin in no time. It couldn’t be helped. His body had been so on edge to finally fuck you, that it was in this permanent state of arousal around you.

“It’s fine. I still have those moments,” he said softly, crouching to help you out. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, and I have to do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I either go to the lab, or…” I jerk off to the thought of being buried deep inside you, he wanted to say.

You eyed him expectantly, biting your lip lightly, further hardening his cock.

“Well, it’s a bit late,” Miguel eventually said, standing tall. “Maybe you should get back to your apartment?”

He hated himself for even suggesting such option, but he didn’t want to push his luck. You being here would be fuel enough for the rest of the night as he fucked his hand.

“Oh, you just got back from a mission,” you fought back a yawn, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “I’ll just leave.”

Miguel nodded, but was crumbling inside.

Your face lit up again. “But this was great, right?”

Please stay.

“You did great,” he said with a short smile. “Go get some rest.”

Please…

You made your way down the hall and waved at him. “See you in the morning, Miguel.”

He should have let you go.

But something took over him, before he could fight it back.

“Actually, you could stay. It’s nearly four in the morning,” he tried to sound as casual as possible, but the excitement was hard to contain. “And we have to head back to the lab early.”

You turned around and he stopped breathing.

Too much?

Then he the backpack slide down your arm, hittingbthe floor with a thud. “Oh, thank you! I really didn’t feel like swinging back to my apartment,” you voice held pure gratitude and he felt his ego soar. “Only… I don’t have any clothes.”

He shook his head as realisation hit him. “Right. Wait here.”

“Okay~”

Bolting into his room, he went through his closet, fetching a shirt and a robe.

But before heading out, he decided to change into some sweatpants and a shirt himself.

His erection welcomed the looser material, and he’d be able to better conceal it from you.

Taking a final look at his cock, Miguel decided to give it a few pumps as if trying to calm it down.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

He couldn’t believe his sweet girl would be so close to him in his clothes and apartment.

And bed.

As he exited the room and handed the clothes to you, he cleared his throat. “You can take my bed.”

You looked up at him. “Oh… no, Miguel. You just came back from a mission.”

“I’m not that tired. Just take it.”

Please.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Anything that was his was yours. He would give it all to you.

“Be right back,” you said, before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

He immediately sighed in relief, adjusting his cock, feeling the first beads of precum spill from the tip.

How was he to survive this?

Not long after, you emerged again.

He glanced over at the length of you, taking in the sight of his shirt and robe on you. Your legs were still covered with the digital suit, but you looked absolutely ready to be devoured.

But he couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

His cock twitched in his pants, yearning to be inside you.

Then something else caught his attention when his moved up your body.

It couldn’t be…

Two symmetrical protuberances poked through the fabric of your shirt — his shirt.

“Are those…” his voice faltered momentarily, not trusting his own eyes.

You followd his line of sight and giggled. “Oh! Yeah. Got them pierced way back. Wanted to defy my dad and got them out of spite,” you went on, adjusting the fabric of the shirt under the robe. “But eventually kept them. They look cute.”

Cute?

Miguel was at a loss for words.

Your voice mixed with your carefree posture sent jolts directly into his cock.

“I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I didn’t notice them before,” he said, feeling his mouth run dry.

“I was wearing a bra,” you replied with a shrug and a tender smile.

This was almost comically painful.

You were the closest thing he had ever known to innocence as of late. Yet here you stood, wearing just his shirt, no bra, and with your pierced nipples poking through his shirt.

But none of that seemed to matter to you.

You were completely oblivious of how painfully hard he was for you.

“Did it hurt?”

“Terribly,” you said, still glacing down at your breasts and hardened nipples. “But I think it’s worth it.”

The adorable way in which you said it was almost driving him insane.

Just how innocent could one person be…

Before he could even process his thoughts, he spoke, “Can I…”

Your eyes met his and Miguel feared he had now fucked it up for good.

Brilliant, Miguel…

“Oh, you mean… you want to see them?”

Should he back down and just deny his intentions?

“You’ve never seen nipple piercings before?”

He shook his head.

Just as he was about to tell you to forget it, you lifted his shirt, revealing your breasts to him.

He nearly exploded right there and then.

“Oh, please!” she giggled. “We’re people of science, and you haven’t seen this before. Science is all about curiosity and discovery.”

Miguel, however, wasn’t listening to any of that and felt as though he was hypnotised. He could tear his eyes away from your perky nipples and the metal rods that went through them, a tiny spider danging from each of them.

He wasn’t sure when or how he had got so close to you, but he lifted his hand to touch one.

His cock twitched violently and he felt his mind hazy with lust.

“They’re cool, right?” you beamed, allowing him to swipe the pad of his thumb across the tiny spider.

“Yeah.”

Really ‘cool’.

More precum dripped from his tip and had to fight back his fangs from slipping out.

He wanted to bend over and dart his tongue out to play with them. He wanted to tug on them and wanted you to arch your back with a soft moan.

You pulled down the shirt again and he flinched his hand back instantly, swallowing hard.

“So… if — when you have a baby and want to breastfeed… will there be an issue?”

Of course his need to breed you had to surface at the worst possible time.

But he had to know. He needed to know if that would be a nuisance. He couldn’t take any risks and he wanted you completely ready to carry his children.

You shrugged, adjusting the robe around you. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead when I got them, but I suppose I just have to take them out.”

He nodded, taking a few steps back.

You stretched out with a yawn. “Mind if I go to sleep now?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

You were about to whirl on your feet, but decided against it. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in Spanish?”

That caught him off guard and his eyes widened. “Gracias.”

Then you gave him the sweetest smile. “Gracias, Miguel.

He could cum just from this alone.

How he would teach you the filthiest things in Spanish… how he would whisper them in your ear, knowing fully well you couldn’t understand a word…

You then slipped into his room and closed the door.

He ran both hands through his hair, wanting to let out a scream.

The things he wanted to do to you…

The things you deserved done to you…

He brought one hand down to tug at his waistband, revealing his soaked cock.

Then he bit the back of his other hand.

Hard.

He didn’t even care if he drew blood.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Engulfed with overwhelming frustration, he pressed his forehead against the tall window that overlooked Nueva York.

He had to calm down, or else he’d have to synthesise a serum to lower his levels of testosterone…

He had to find a way to stop.

As minutes ticked by, he decided to check your bio readings on his watch. Your heart rate had lowered significantly, indicating him you were now asleep.

The predator in him took control again and he paced towards his bedroom, opening the door just enough to check on you.

Fast asleep.

He walked in with careful steps, finally taking in the sight of you on his bed.

The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for the faintest moonlight to be cast on you.

He felt his heart was about to implode as he drew near, slowly sitting by the edge of the mattress.

You lay on your back, breathing evenly and covered up to your waist with a blanket.

Miguel took a deep and shaky breath.

You smelled of him and his bedsheets smelled of you.

Such a powerful and dangerous combination, that he almost considered gripping his cock.

Bur decided against it.

Instead, he say there, staring at you, absorbing every single detail of your body.

His hand twitched as an itch took over it.

An itch he had to scratch.

He reached out to graze the back of one finger along your forearm, feeling your warmth coating his skin.

His sweet girl…

His imagination ran wild and he had hoped he could have fucked you to sleep, not sliding out of you, making sure you’d take his seed.

Pain swallowed him whole as despair settled.

What if he never managed to make you his?

What if you decided you wanted nothing more than a friendship?

How could he cope?

Suddenly, you flinched and rolled to your side and heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, Tom…”

Miguel was left petrified and his blood ran cold.

Who the fuck was Tom?

Part 4

Masterlist

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

I managed to finish this despite, ya know, the aforementioned: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 (keep reading)

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: Alastor x CupidFemReader, broken bones, feet washing, normal sized Luci, you know the outfit in my PFP? You’re wearing that but soft purple and the bottom half is ambiguous because idk baby whatever you feel best in it’s your story, Husk has a bad time, Alastor has a bad time, You have a bad time, Charlie has a great time 👌🏼, not choking」

Minors this one is chill but the next two imma need you to Dni 💋 ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You had made a mistake, yes, but Hell? Really?

Sure, you had dropped an arrow into the water supply of a nunnery which did lead to some unholy behaviors. But! The nuns seemed quite happy. Wasn’t that the point?

Tossing you to Hell through a hastily opened portal was honestly unprofessional. You ended up dropping three stories, upside down, in front of a butcher's shop.

In the seconds between Sera telling you, ‘You can return when you’ve made a sinner believe in true love.’ and Lute kicking you square in the chest through the hell door, you thought it wouldn’t be so hard. True, you couldn’t use your arrows as that wouldn’t be “true love” and also too easy, even gods weak to your shots, but ultimately sinners were still human. Humans were pushovers! Pliable, gentle at their hearts, desiring love and tenderness. How bad could the naughty ones be? 

And then you landed shoulder first onto the pavement. It hurt. Things didn’t hurt in heaven…

Your arrows scattered, quiver spilling when you inverted. Wincing, you scrambled to grab as many as were within reach. Your right shoulder was burning, a new sensation.

You counted them by name as you gathered: Eros, Agape, Philia, Pragma, Philautia, Ludus, Storge… panic. 

ErosAgapePhiliaPragmaPhilautiaLudusStorge— Mania wasn’t there. Arguably the arrow that caused you the most trouble, the sting of Mania would cause a madness that led to obsessive behaviors, possessiveness, jealousy. 

Pulling yourself up, arrows clutched in one hand, the other holding the place near your collar was throbbing, your eyes were frantic in their search.

“What’s this?”

You finally looked up from the sidewalk, a man’s back to you before he turned. Bile rose and burned your throat as he pulled Mania from where it had pierced his chest pocket.

His eyes, shades of red heaven didn’t even entertain, made a simple trip from the arrow's head to your face.

The man went so still you thought for a moment he was a hologram, but you could see the tiniest rise and fall of his chest. A deer facing down a bright light, he remained frozen in place as you began to approach him.

“Excuse my manners, but that’s mine and I really need it back.” Your injured arm moved first and the pain made you see white, a cry so sharp people turned to look. He snapped back to his senses, and with an odd sound you couldn’t quite place, he seemingly disappeared into the ground.

Mania was left behind, shining smugly against the dirty pavement. You didn’t want to make a reach for it, fear flooding you. You’d never felt pain before.

You’d seen it in humans, but never in your existence had you experienced it. Would both arms hurt?

You let the left hand abandon its guarding place and grabbed the errant arrow. Tucking into an alley, you crouched and returned the arrows to their quiver with immense difficulty.

Okay, yes it was Hell but maybe you were a little paranoid. A sense of being watched wouldn't leave you even after you re-emerged from the darkness of the alley. 

The enormity of your task set in as you surveyed the area. You, an obviously heavenly creature even without your wings out on display, would need time to make anyone believe in any form of love. Where would you go in the meantime? And now injured for the first time in your life? How long would that need to mend?

Expanding your view, you saw the currently defunct doomsday countdown hovering above the embassy. Perfect, holy ground would atleast keep you safe for the night, which was falling with a malignant speed.

They couldn’t have given you some time to change? Or pack a set of clothes? Your short sleeved button up a (literally) glowing shade of white was attracting too much attention, golden sandals now cloudy from various fluids across Pentagram city’s streets. Your heart shaped overalls a powdered purple, you looked like an adult child among a sea of very tired professionals. 

When you got to the embassy you only had one good arm to open the heavy doors, which unfortunately didn’t budge. Perhaps you needed two? Trying to muster up some adrenaline, you began to pant. Deep breaths like the women in labour you sometimes worked your magic on.

As soon as you gripped the handle you saw something that made you jump back, muscles flexing around whatever damage you’d done in your body from the fall. A large black snake? Some demonic squid’s appendage? Something unholy grabbed hold of the handle as soon as you had and gave such a tug the doors violently shook.

You spun around to the dark neighborhood behind you. Nothing. Turning back the thing was gone. And so was all of your hope. It was locked. The tears were unwanted and unnecessary, but just-- you were hurting so much, you were dirty, you were alone, and now essentially homeless.

If there was ever a reason to cry, you decided to let yourself have this one. 

The lamplights flickered and the entire street went pitch black. Because of course it did.

Hyperventilating now entirely without intention, you watched as one light to the left popped on with a static buzz. Desperate to be out of the darkness you ran to the spotlight. As soon as your foot entered the beam, the light beside it lit up. Your eyes wandered to heaven above, were they helping you? Had you not been entirely abandoned?

Of course! Yeah. They sensed you at the doors and sent off some guidance. How silly of you. Relief washed over you as you ran through the lights until your foot left one spotlight but the next hadn't popped on.

Twirling back to the embassy, you saw all of the lights shut off in succession behind you.

Just you and the one lamp now, and the glow of some TVs in the shop window to the right. What was the meaning of this? 

That weird sound you heard earlier but couldn’t place… electricity but dusty and barely contained. Your gaze was drawn to the radio in the shop window in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it until it buzzed to life. It lit up faintly, dial turning on its own until a high and smooth voice rang out, “Looking for your way to heaven? You’re in luck! The Hazbin Hotel is now accepting any and all willing to find redemption!”

This must have been the message, I mean, heaven was never good at being subtle.

“Just make your way to the left and toward the looming building atop the hill!”

Your head turned to your left and then up slightly. Bathed in red and white lights stood a behemoth of a building on the edge of a cliff.

Head still facing the hotel, your eyes flitted back to the radio.

“Reception is open 24 hours a day!”

You touched your arm, then patted at your pockets. Not a wallet or ID card on you. You were the 17th Cupid incarnation, why would you have a fucking ID card? But didn’t those places need such things? You’d seen every romcom earth had ever produced. There was always some issue with hotel check ins. 

“Not a red cent needed! We literally do not care who you are!”

Oh. Wait. Was this a trap?

“Created by the Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter! A foolish young woman who genuinely believes in reforming sinners!”

Lucifer?? The former angel, yes, but the word angel carried much more weight now. Perhaps he would have a modicum of pity given your circumstances.

You took an unsteady foot forward and toward the hotel when the street lights all buzzed back to life.

The path to the hotel was long, many demons stopping you on your way but quickly losing interest after a second or two of pestering you. You gave a silent prayer to the archangels for that blessing.

It must have been nearly 1am when you finally made it to the hotel’s doors. When you entered you found an empty reception desk and a poorly written note:

Before the bell’s hammer even hit the metal, a man popped up from behind the counter.

The man.

The man you shot with Mania.

“Welcome to th-,”

You were outside and leaving the awning before he could finish, but just as quickly as you left he appeared in front of you, “Still missing your manners?”

He blocked your path with his remarkable size. Why were demons so tall? What was the use of it?

“Deer got your tongue?” He bent over unnaturally at the waist.

“What?”

“Would you like-,” he began.

You walked around him and down the driveway. He moved briskly beside you, slowly growing larger and larger until his body was several stories tall and entirely blocking the gates of the premises.

A horror. Hell was full of horrors.

He crouched, large toothy smile now baring down at you.

If you stabbed him in the eye with an arrow, which would cause the least trouble? It was a rule to never give a double love bite but this was a dire situation.

But if you were sent to hell for a little nun love fest, what would purposefully stabbing a sinner do?

He rapidly shrank, hands coming to his front to catch a summoned microphone…Cane? Staff?

“You’re injured. Just, come back inside. I promise I don’t bite without consent.” His head cocked to the side, a quiet, “Usually” tacked on.

We’re you visibly hurt? How bad was it? You looked past him to where sounds of yelling and music were rolling up the hill.

“You don’t have many options, angel.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. Disgust almost seemed to lace his voice, but why, then, was he offering help?

“Not an angel. Cupid. Different.” Kind of. You gave the quiver a shake.

“Ah yes. That explains why you shot at me earlier.” A large hand came to your side and directed you to turn back around. He kept it there, pushing softly to keep you moving.

“I didn't shoot you.”, You huffed, crossing your arms before doubling over in pain. He stopped walking, hand resting now against your spine. Regaining your composure, you continued towards the hotel lobby, “My arrows fell out and…you caught one. With your body.”

“My pocket made quite the lucky catch. Now!” He snapped, a key appearing and floating into his hand with a sparkle of neon green, “Let’s get you to a room and cleaned up.”

“Do you work here?” You asked as he escorted you to one of the upper floors. The room was surprisingly clean and well decorated. You had expected a dingy highway motel. And while the room was largely dark wood and rich colors, it wasn’t as offensive as the rest of hell had been.

“Ah! My my, forgive me! I am Alastor, the radio demon and hotel manager here.” He bowed and offered his hand for you to place yours in. You did so without thinking, and he kissed your knuckles once but his mouth lingered over your flesh. Eyes half lidded, he glanced back up at you, “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

There was no way to reverse Cupid’s arrows. Not by force. Love could only die by the hands of the ones who held it. Others could definitely bruise it, but ultimately it was up to the beholder. Mania was a little different, obsession could be dispelled by shattering whatever illusion the holder felt.

If the holder thought someone was the epitome of genteel chastity then a show of wanton sexuality could break the spell. If someone was convinced the object of their desire was very smart and savvy then acting ignorant could make the obsession fall flat. But there was no indication he had any illusions of you. Not yet, atleast.

Mania was now his, and he would keep it in his heart until he lost it or killed it. He could, technically, be possessed by, and be in the possession of, Mania for eternity. A sinner had never been shot before, that you knew of.

He didn’t noticeably react as you took back your hand. With a hum, he snapped again and you found a chair pulled up behind you and knocking into the back of your knees. You fell into the plush armchair, watching a metal basin of steaming water slide against your feet.

“Excuse you— ExcUU-,” you pulled your legs back but he pulled harder, Alastor removing your dirty shoes and tossing them off to the side like trash.

“You can't clean yourself with that broken collar bone. Allow me.” His hand gripped your ankles and dunked both into the water, “I insist.”

“It’s broken? How could I break a collarbone…,” the humor wasn’t lost on you, sinner washing holy feet, but your focus was entirely on the concept of a broken bone. 

“Falling twenty five feet head first, apparently.” Alastor rubbed soap into your calves.

“But I don’t break.” What happened to you, what had that kick into hell done? “You saw me? Also, that isn’t dirty.” you pointed at your calf.

“Peripherally.”

Did he mean the dirt or witnessing the fall? You sat in silence while he hummed, returning your feet to their original color. 

“Now,” he rose, patting his hands dry on a small towel, “Unbutton your top.”

Your expression was apparently quite loud, Alastor putting his hands up quickly, “Not like that. I’ve no interest in that sort of thing. I need to see your shoulder and upper chest.” He waited patiently, staring at you the entire time. His smile was so wide, teeth yellow and sharp. Unsettling. 

He really did look like he could eat you. You’d heard of such demons.

You slipped off the straps of your overalls, and began to open your shirt. He did away with the water, coming to kneel directly to your right as he watched. You couldn’t see anything without some kind of mirror. If it was bruised or swollen, it was out of your line of sight. Long clawed hands came to the front and back of your shoulder, pressing inward. You pulled away, a firm grip now as his right hand held at the left side of your waist.

“Are you a doctor?” Hotel manager and doctor would be an unlikely combo, but the day had been odd from start to finish.

A shake of the head, “But when I was alive, I did have quite a lot of experience with the inner workings of anatomy.” You grimaced, how could he say such sinister things with such a lovely voice? “Maybe not broken. But I’d say at least a fracture. Perhaps your heavenly body didn’t take full damage. It hurts when you move your arm, correct?” You nodded. 

He hummed, another click of his fingers and a fabric unfurled into his waiting hands. “Take it all the way off so I can set this.”

You were exhausted. The pain was gnawing at your nerves. No more fight in you, you just wanted rest, so you slipped off the shirt entirely and let him wrap your arm up into a simple sling. You were surprised his hands were so warm. Demons seemed like they’d be cold to the touch. Like lizards or pearls.

When he finished, you sitting in the large chair with your arm wrapped in a silky black sling, no shirt, and pastel purple heart-shaped overalls folded down your torso, you considered having another cry. You felt your chin tremble. You couldn’t recall ever crying from sadness before today.

It was just a mistake. You hadn’t meant to drop your arrow. Why were the archangels so angry? What’s some sex between nuns? 

Alastor bristled, hand coming to your cheek. It was an unwelcome gesture. You batted his hand away with your only free one, but he just sighed and set it on your thigh. You pushed it off, shooting him a glare. The audacity.

You thought you saw his eye twitch.

With what little energy was left in, you stood and open the door for him, “You have been very kind and helpful. Thank you very much. You can leave now.” Oh, right, “Please.”

He stood, pausing as he passed you. He was so tall. Shoulders wide. You felt your heart rate pick up. Even with two good collarbones you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight.

Alastor leaned down to your level, you backing up and into the door, “Until the morning.”

When he said it you had thought he was just going about formalities. But he wasn’t. You awoke some hours later to a knock. When you opened the door he was looming in your doorway again.

You tried to close the door but he put his foot in the gap, then a strong hand wrapped around the door’s edge and he pushed his way into the room.

You sputtered, arm flailing a little as you choked on which reaction to give first. You were undressed, in just your under things.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself further when you get dressed. I’ll undo the sling and help.” Closing the door he then spun back around to face you, smile as bright as it was earlier that same day. 

“No! Absolutely not! Leave! Please!”

As he guided your arm through the shirt, you struggled to process what had happened. One minute you were indignant and stubborn and then he was so close to you, hands warm and gentle, and then already he was untying the sling and your shirt was just there and-

“See? Wasn’t that easy? No harm in accepting help.” Alastor looked you over from top to bottom.  

“Accepting? What part of any of that did I accept.” You stood bottomless in a button up, trying to get the overalls from the hanger with just your left hand. His chest pressed into your back, nearly forcing you to fall into the armoire, to assist you.

“The part where you didn’t actively fight me. I think we can call that acceptance until you learn better.” His words shook through your ribs and to your front. 

Annoyance rose in your chest, what was he thinking? Humans had no right to touch you let alone a sinner. “You’re an eldritch horror, please back away from the divine creature before you.” Alastor laughed, backing away with the clothes in his hands. Hand out, you motioned for him to pass it over. He tossed it on the floor, and took a seat on the bed with crossed legs. “Oh, I see. You’re an asshole. Perfect.” Pretense gone, manners not needed.

You grabbed it with your left hand and managed to get both legs into it before slinking it up and onto your left shoulder. While you tried to figure out how to do the right side, realizing the flaw in your order of processes, Alastor leaned over and unhooked the left strap, overalls falling to the carpet with a soft thud. 

You stood there for several moments, staring at him with purple fabric pooled around your ankles, him staring at you with a shiteating grin.

After finally getting dressed, preferring to not think about how, you were followed down to the lobby. 

“Breakfast?” He asked, you both in the elevator as he hadn’t gone more than three feet from you since he entered your bedroom. 

“No, no appetite. I need to find Lucifer.” You were sure he could help somehow. Somehow he could do….something. Details about Lucifer’s powers and abilities, his strengths and skills were all kept hush-hush. But if nothing else, you could find someone who understood your position. 

Your hand was being vigorously shaken before the elevator doors even closed behind you. Charlie Morningstar was not what you expected.  Chipper and bright, she was bursting with energy. 

“Gentle, Charlie. Our dear Cupid is injured.” Alastor’s hand came to the small of your back. You reached back with your left hand and knocked it off of you. 

“Like, the real actual cupid?!” Charlie’s eyes were shining, you could almost see the hearts floating up around her face. You felt Alastor’s hand again, now on your hip. You took three steps to the right, slipping from his fingertips.

“Yes, that is exactly what I-.” You were cut off, Charlie launching into a speech about sinners and heaven and redemption and so much more you couldn’t process. 

The energy she gave us was very angelic, which was confusing. Until you saw her father entering the common area.

The most hated creature in all of creation. Your best hope for a tiny sliver of comfort. 

Alastor’s hand reached for yours, fingers trapping your wrist and stopping you from approaching the king of hell. 

You shook your arm. His hold stayed. You tugged. He was unaffected, talking to Charlie now about your injury as if you weren’t right there. 

As Cupid, or at least as a cupid, you weren’t physically strong. You really weren’t meant to exist for a long time, just for as long as your body held up to repeated trips to the human realm. But, in heaven, you were never capable of being harmed. And of course, on earth, you weren’t really corporeal so no harm could come to you. You weren’t built for tug of war with a 7 foot tall demon.

“Mr. Devil! Sir!” You waved your foot, shouting out to the normal sized man. As he saw you, his eyes widened, “Hello there! Sorry to be a bother, I’m from heaven and-” You jerked your hand free, power walking to Lucifer, “I’m here on punishment. It’s a pleasure to meet another member of Elysium’s caretakers. Former or otherwise.”

Flustered, Lucifer fumbled with his phone before dropping it. “Oh! Shit! H-hello!”

You reached down to retrieve it for him, seeing black and red shoes behind you as you did. 

“What — why are you here?” Lucifer was looking at Alastor now, which was great news because for a second you thought he was talking to you. A sneaking feeling leaked into your chest that heaven hadn’t actually told him you were coming. 

“Just keeping an eye on my guest! As you can see she got injured and I’ve taken to the task of her safety while she’s in hell.” 

“No one asked him to do that, sir.” Your smile was strained, you could feel Alastor’s shoulder was touching yours. You looked to where you were connected and then back to Lucifer, “Are all sinners like this?”

“Honestly? Yes. They’re all pretty terrible.” Lucifer sighed, “What did you do?”

A cold sweat, “Misused an arrow. I can’t leave hell until I make a demon who doesn’t already believe in true love…believe in it.”

“Oh no! That’s— you’re gonna be here awhile.” Lucifer pulled at his collar in a mock attempt to release the awkward heat of the conversation. He saw you wither, and Alastor seemed to bloom, so he quickly changed pace, “But! Uhhh, you can totally do it! Charlie has some of the best of the worst here. If I can ever help, just ask!” Nervous laughter that did not put you at ease. He seemed so silly. So sweet and easily flustered. 

You felt your hope dash for a second time in less than a day. How long would you be in hell? How long was awhile?

“She is my responsibility now. She won’t be needing anything from you, your majesty.”

A darkness came over you as the two demons began to bicker. You now had your own obsessed shadow; a large and creepy sinner following you around. How on earth could you get close enough to a demon to complete your task? Convincing someone of true love would require trust and time. This would be impossible with Alastor attached to your side. 

You spent the first week in hell in the hotel. Everytime you got the courage to leave and explore the areas outside, you’d find yourself shadow portaled “back to safety” by Alastor. It was like the human film ‘Groundhog Day’, always starting over back in the lobby. 

No matter where you went in the hotel, he was either beside you or where you had been headed. You saw the sky less often than Alastor’s grin and you couldn’t stand it. You took to hiding, leaning against darkened stairwell corners and sitting on the floor of the ladies restroom. 

It bought you a little time to yourself, but the second you moved he was there again. Asking if you were a lost little doe, hand reaching for your waist to pull you near him, red eyes threatening to swallow you whole.

Toward the end of the week, while helping you get dressed as he did daily, Alastor took a step back. “I could get you some new clothes. Cannibal town has the finest duds.” He lifted the lace that lined the top of your  pocket, “You stick out. No demon is going to let you trick them into believing in true love like this.”

You could have screamed. No, no demon would even approach you with Alastor standing behind you. It absolutely wasn’t the clothes. You politely rejected the offer and went about your day.

The next morning you awoke to find your floor littered with strips of something. Flinging open the armoire you found two empty hangers. You turned back, noticing the white and purple color to the fabric confetti.

The march to Alastor’s room was easy, as it was 10 feet in front of your door. He had placed you directly across from him, because, ya know, Mania.

He clearly hadn’t expected you to leave your room in your underwear, eyes like saucers as he yanked you in.

“What in heaven are you doing?! Anyone could see you.” He hissed, closing the door with a little too much force.

“Whose fault is that?!” You seethed in return. Anger was something you rarely ever felt but he was inspiring new things in you. “Someone shredded my clothes.”

Alastor’s ears folded back, eyes looking to the left and up, “Odd. Are you sure? Maybe you accidentally threw them away.” That devilish grin you’d come to expect. He knew damn well how stupid that was.

You stomped your foot, if you had two working hands you’d try to rip his antlers off, “Are you serious?!” You turned to leave, kicking the door before attempting to open it.

A large hand pressed back on the door, slamming it shut. His breath was dropping down the back of your neck despite his considerable height, “You will not be leaving this room in such a state of undress, my dear.”

His voice was so low and close, had anyone ever spoken to you with such a commanding tone? A new feeling twitched in you. You blocked it out.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” said too softly.

His other hand came to press on the door, too. An arm to either side of you, trapped, as he leaned in. You pressed yourself against the door to make distance from his body.

“Oh, I absolutely do. Who is going to stop me? You?” Alastor’s voice had noticeably dropped an octave as he whispered what felt like a challenge against your hair.

Who indeed…you had no strength, an arrow would either be useless or complicate things. Lucifer seemed preoccupied and jittery. Heaven wasn’t returning your prayers.

He took your silence as an answer.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll only ask nicely once.” His hands left, warmth on your neck fading. You turned to look at him, sensing his eyes burning holes into your back.

He was holding a two piece set. Older style, 1920s American maybe. Black and burgundy. When did he have time to get this when every hour seemed to be spent near you?

“May I help you get dressed?”

You’d gotten quite close with the few residents who didn’t run at the sight of Alastor. Husk was one of them. You became fast friends, often drinking and lamenting about Alastor’s general existence as Alastor sat some 15 feet away on the sofa. Still not allowed outside the hotel gates, your second week you spent many hours at the bar talking to the surprisingly kind grump.

To your delight Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, oddly, as long as you were in eyesight he seemed content.

You thought maybe his mania was already waning. Sure you hadn’t attempted to leave the hotel, and you hadn’t argued when he dressed you, but…Ah, hm. Fuck.

Mania can look like Love when you don't struggle against it. A fly motionless in a web can elude the spider for a little bit.

Don't push against the restraints and you can forget they are there entirely.

But push you did, accidentally. Husk was making some new cocktails, trying to enjoy himself and be creative. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned.

“Good?” 

He took another sip before handing the glass to you. You grabbed it, taking a taste. Sweet but a bite as it went down. Something with citrus. When you looked up from the glass, he was gone.

A choking noise from behind the bar made you stand up in your seat, eyes flying from Husk to Alastor. A glowing green leash dragging Husk across the floor, his hands desperately pulling at the collar as he struggled to breath. 

“Stop!” You shouted, crawling over the bar and grabbing the chain with your good arm. You tried to pull back, to slow the choking force, but got pulled along with it. “Alastor!” You screamed as your shoulder hit the floor and sent searing pain down your arm. 

You could hear Husk gasp, the green glow disappearing from past your clenched eyelids. 

“Why can’t you-,” Alastor started to speak a he came to your side. Husk scurried away, crawling back from the demon. You hit the hand Alastor offered you but were surprised to see his face painted with concern.

“I said stop.” After rolling to your feet you began to march away. “Every time I find something nice in this piece of shit domain you remind me I’m in hell.”

You had almost made it to your room when a hand pulled you by the good shoulder and pushed you against the wall. It still hurt. 

“Don’t you know? Sharing a drink, it’s as close to a kiss as you could get without bringing your mouth to his.”

“It was a drink, Alastor. You had no right.”

His hand settled on your throat. No grip, just a gentle placement, “I have every right.” His brows knit together in worry, in confusion. “What should I do to make you understand me?” His hand came to your chin, thumb ghosting over your lips.

“If I let you go too far, someone will surely take you. Who wouldn’t? Please. Stop pushing me so much.” His eyes were almost loving as they shined down at you. His breath was picking up. You could hear the desperation in his voice. 

Those damned eyes were unrelenting in their stare into your own. There was no creature in presence or audacity in heaven like Alastor. You’d never encountered anything like him. 

“Of all the Love you had to take a stray hit from, Mania really was the cruelest accident.” You held your hand at the crook of your neck, wondering if you did more damage. No, if he did more damage.

“Mania? Is that the arrow I caught? How fitting.” His finger pulled down on your bottom lip. You’d seen this movie, you’d been there for these scenes in dorm rooms and under rainy awnings, in darkened beds and sunny fields. You could move, no part of him was actually holding you physically. “Yes, maybe I am obsessed. But whose fault is that? Will you take responsibility for it?” His chest was shaking with every breath. Why didn’t you move? Just walk away. Knock off that touch as you had been doing. You hadn’t noticed how quickly you were breathing, too, until his hand was pulling your chin up and towards his face.

It only came out as a whisper, half said as it was only half meant, “don’t.”

A laugh, “At least pretend you mean it.” 

Your knees came together in some desperate attempt to stop the feeling creeping up your legs and to your lap, “Apologize to Husk.”

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” His breath was so warm on your mouth, face tilted to keep his nose from hitting yours.

“What a terrible reply!” You slid down the wall and slipped under his arms, “If you shadow work your way into this room I will fuck that horny spider on camera just to spite you.” You opened your door, pausing to make sure he was still down the hall, “Angel on Angel, working title.”

Your whole body went slack, the sounds of a wild animal loose in the hallway rocking the door as you took shaky steps to the bed, paintings on the walls rattling as he did unseen damage. Sounds of an unknown, unholy animal raging just past the thin drywall. 

Had you ever seen Mania work so quickly with so little fuel? Hand coming to your mouth, a burning where his finger touched you. 

No one had touched your lips before. No one could ever hope to. Humans were beyond the realm of feeling you, and you didn’t allow kissing with the partners you took in heaven. Personal rule. As in, it was too personal.

The lights in your room flickered, briefly shrouding you in darkness before coming back to life.

Deja vu.

Oh.

What had he introduced himself as? The radio demon? It wasn’t heaven who brought you to the hotel. Of course not. 

No. Obviously not.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo

Chapter 27

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“How was the drive over?”  Nico Robin had one of her long legs crossed over the other, her laptop on the short counter in front of her as she typed notes into your patient portal.

You tossed her a smile.  “Not bad, the seatbelt in my car feels really strange the bigger I get, but I’m just happy I can still drive for the time being.”

The blue-eyed woman nodded before turning to face you.  “Based on your 18 week ultrasound, your babies have a heart rate of about 120 beats per minute, which is in the perfectly normal range during this gestational period.  Their amniotic fluid levels are also normal.  Overall, I’m really pleased with how healthy they are.  You’re a few weeks into your second trimester now, have you noticed any significant changes?  Any symptoms we should be concerned about?”

It took you a few moments to think.  “Well, my skin is really itchy and my back really hurts.  My breasts have days where they’re really tender and days when they’re not.  My feet hurt sometimes,” you rattled.

Dr. Robin nodded understandingly across from you.  “As strange as it is for me to say, hearing that you have normal symptoms of pregnancy makes me incredibly happy.  Along with your bloodwork that has been consistently normal and your ultrasound from last week, I am incredibly pleased with your progress and the growth of your babies.”  She pulled on a pair of rubber medical gloves and wheeled her stool over to your bed where you placed your feet on the stirrups for your wellness check.

“I am too,” you replied with a broad grin, your hand going to rest over your swollen belly as you reclined on the table, staring at the ceiling as Robin poked around and examined your condition.  “I’d much rather have symptoms and know that everything is alright rather than nothing at all.”

“Of course, of course,” your doctor agreed, nodding her head affirmatively.  She flashed you a cheeky smile from in between your legs.  “Are you positive you don’t want to know the genders?”

Your hands braced themselves against the side of the bed you sat on as your shoulders bounced with the force of your laugh.  “Don’t tempt me!  I’ve been doing so well wanting to keep it a surprise!”

Your reaction made Robin laugh as she removed her gloves and marked a few final notes in her patient chart for you.  “Well, if everything seems to be going normal then I’ll be seeing you again in another few weeks!  But you know the drill, call me back immediately if you notice any changes or concerns.”

She helped you down from the table and you slipped into your clothes and shoes, following her to the front desk to receive your patient summary for the visit, along with scheduling your next check-up and ultrasound.

The weather had gotten absolutely stifling in the late summer days, and partnered with your ever-expanding womb, you were finding yourself more and more sweaty hauling around an extra few pounds during the horrendous heat.  With your air conditioner blasting, you drove back home to spend the remainder of your day in the cool comfort of your apartment.  You couldn’t even imagine how Bepo must have been feeling, all of that thick, fluffy white fur must have been suffocating for him during the summer months.  You could barely get him to go outside during the daylight hours, but in the winter months, you needed to go through hell and back to get him inside.  The thought of your pup at home made you smile as you pulled out of the parking lot and hit the road back home.  He had become so much more attentive toward you recently, almost serving as your guard dog.  Even when Shachi and Penguin came over, despite knowing who the two men were, Bepo would stand guard in front of you and refused to let anyone pass.  His keen doggie instincts definitely knew there was something different about you.

It didn’t take long for you to get home, the traffic was incredibly minimal.  What you wouldn’t give to be at the beach on a day like this, soak up some sun… with your pregnant belly on full display.  The thought made you smile, blood rushing to your face.  Law probably would take a minor issue with that.  ‘I don’t want any other man tossing looks at you,’ he’d probably gripe.  You chuckled to yourself as you turned down the road your apartment was on.  Like Bepo, Law had also become much, much more protective of you.  When he could help it, he refused to miss any update or appointment, staying by your side constantly.  You thought maybe you’d get tired of it, but if anything, it made you feel even better about your relationship.

Knowing that Law had no plans on leaving you after you gave birth, loving you in and out of pregnancy, made your heart flutter.

You grabbed your bag and exited your car, locking it behind you as you walked through the stifling humidity into your building, up the elevator, and onto your floor.  You slipped your key into the lock and pushed open your door, calling out to Bepo who snorted from the other room.  You kicked off your shoes, hung your bag on a hook by the door, and proceeded to the living room where you could finally put your feet up on the couch.  You grabbed your journal off of the counter on the way.  You’d been so good keeping up with it, almost obsessively so.  A few weeks ago, Ikkaku had told you about a similar journal that her mother had kept, and how nice it would be to have your kids eventually read it when they grew up.

That sentiment made you fill out entire paragraphs on some of the pages, a permanent smile plastered on your lips as you wrote.

Bepo stood from his bed when you sat on the couch and immediately laid down directly beside you, ears perked up and constantly on alert should anyone come through the door.  You reached down and carded your fingers through the thick fur between his ears, watching with a giggle as his eyes slowly drifted closed and his pink tongue slipped through his muzzle.

“Are you blepping?” you asked.

The dog snorted.

You were periodically checking your phone throughout the afternoon.  Law had another fairly large procedure today, a Transmyocardial Revascularization, which involved some technology that he didn’t frequently use in the operating room.  When he left your apartment that morning, he was already laser focused, reading through his notes and charts while he scarfed down his breakfast.  He only broke composure enough to give you a kiss in the doorway, his hand ghosting over the side of your belly before he left.  You were hoping he would text you when the procedure was done, but at the same time were completely understanding if you didn’t hear from him until he got home.  Sometimes, he got so swallowed up by his work that he forgot he even existed.

A sudden fluttering sensation from your abdomen almost made you drop your phone.  You sat up, startled, your hands flying to your belly, pressing against your skin.  The suddenness of your movements made Bepo stand up as well, staring at the door expecting someone to walk in.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind immediately assuming the worst.  You weren’t in pain, you hadn’t been spotting, everything had been completely normal.

You felt it again, this time against your hands.  A quick flutter within your gut immediately followed by a shallow, quick rippling sensation against the muscles of your abdomen.  You felt it in the palm of your hand.  Near the other side, the same thing happened.

They were moving.  Your twins were moving.

You stood up, startling Bepo who stared at you confused and alert.  You gazed down at your dog dumbly.  “They’re moving.”

He tilted his head as you spoke to him.

“I don’t know why I stood up,” you blurted, sitting back down with your hands flush against the couch cushions.  A giddy, childlike grin crawled to your lips.  They were moving.  They were moving.

It took about another three hours for Law to get home, and while you waited you had been so overcoming with energy thanks to the excitement of feeling your babies fluttering that you vacuumed your entire apartment, cooked a pavlova with the leftover berries in your fridge, and deep-cleaned the inside of the oven.  When your husband finally walked into the entryway and called your name, you almost sprinted to meet him, skidding across the floor in your socks.

“Hey, babe–” 

You cut him off swiftly, grabbing his hand and holding it against your belly.  You stared down at his inked fingers as they relaxed over your bump, his lips sealed.

“Come on…” you uttered.  “Do it again…”  It was a longshot, but you hoped that somehow they could hear you.

The fluttering sensation bounced around your abdomen once more, followed by the ripple against your muscle.  Law jerked his hand away from your skin, almost like he was forced to touch manure without gloves.  His golden eyes were boggling out of his head, his jaw slack and cheeks flushed.

“Was that…?” he stuttered out, words escaping him.

“They started moving!” you cheered, throwing yourself into him, bubbly laughter escaping your throat.  

Law was quick to wrap his arms around you once his shock subsided, clutching you to his chest.  His own broad smile was on his face as his chest bounced with your giddy laughter.  “So I take it your appointment today went well?”

You pulled away from his embrace, excitement coursing through your veins so rapidly that the only thing your body told you to do was grip your husband’s cheeks and press a tender kiss against his lips.  He muffled a surprise grunt against your mouth before his hands found purchase on your hips, slightly dipping you backward and ghosting his teeth against your puffy lower lip.

“Sorry,” you all but whispered, barely pulling away from him.  “I think I got the zoomies.”

He quickly turned his head away to snort at your words.  “The baby-kicking zoomies?”

“I made pavlova,” you sighed.  “That’s how excited I got.”

Your husband pressed another hot kiss against your lips before kicking off his shoes and taking your hand to bring him to the kitchen.  “Looks like our dinner is pavlova.  Not that I’m complaining.”

As soon as you stepped back into the main living area, Bepo was at your feet, nuzzling your legs and sticking his nose into your butt.  No matter how many times you shooed him away, he came right back, tongue peeking through his muzzle and beady black eyes melting your heart into oblivion.  And now, Law was following the dog’s example.  You served slices of your light desert onto two plates for the both of you, following Law to the couch where he proceeded to rest a hand against your belly throughout eating the sweet treat.  And while watching the television… and while you washed the dishes… and while you showered… and while you curled up next to him under the covers to sleep.

“Am I going to have to follow you to work now?  So you don’t miss a kick?” you asked over your shoulder, adjusting your body so you could press further into your husband’s chest with your back.

His hand lazily stroked up and down your side as he pressed light kisses to the back of your head.  “Maybe.  … Probably.”

“I won’t be very good in the operating room,” you laughed quietly into the darkness.

“Oh, that reminds me.  I forgot to tell you something with all the excitement.”  You felt Law push away from you slightly, giving you enough room to roll over and face him.

“What’s up?” you asked, curiously.  Your eyes couldn’t quite see his face, but his hand on your waist kept you glued to him nonetheless.  

“The biggest surgery of my life got scheduled today,” he said.  “A heart-lung transplant.”

You bolted upright in bed, reaching over for the lamp next to your pillow and pulling down on the power chord, illuminating your small corner of the room.  Your eyes were wide.  “Are you serious?”

With disheveled hair, Law sat up as well, hunching his back to rest his elbows on his knees.  “Yup.  Early May.”

“Holy shit,” you uttered.  “I… didn’t even know that was possible.”

Law nodded.  “The man has been in the ICU for almost an entire year now.  Every treatment option has been exhausted for both his heart and lungs.  Stents, catheters, bypass surgeries, blood-thinners, every available diagnostic test for pulmonary failure has been tried and done.  He’s approaching end-stage heart and lung failure and has been intubated for quite some time, and he recently got approved for transplant from the donor board.”

You absorbed his words with awe.  “That’s a lot… poor guy.”

Your husband hummed.  “It’s tough, but we all think this surgery will be the ultimate best thing for him.  He’s got AB+ blood which is incredibly lucky for him, and a donor has been selected based on cardiopulmonary quality.”  He glanced at you and could tell based on the slightly grim look on your face that you were curious where they even got the heart and lungs from.  “Organs are usually harvested from people who have suffered from brain injuries.  If they established prior to illness or injury that they would like to be a living tissue donor, then if they suffer brain death, they can be eligible for organ donation.  I’m not familiar with the donor right now, but I assume that’s the case for them.”

Your heart clenched at the thought.  “Wow…”

Law scooted closer to you and rubbed your back.  “It’s tough medicine, but someone’s sacrifice might be able to save the life of another.”

A smile pulled to your lips before you realized something.  “Wait…”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“May 22nd is my due date,” you stated.  “Not that I’m telling you to not do the surgery, obviously, but… what if…”

“You go into labor while I’m in the operating room?” he asked, finishing your sentence for you.  “The entire procedure, if it still happens when scheduled, might be anywhere from 12 to 16 hours.  So I guess we’ll just have to hope that you don’t go into labor on that day.”

“That’s a long time… are you going to be alright?” you asked, leaning into his touch, your voice filled with worry.

Law smiled.  “Don’t worry about me.  You remember my sleep schedule in college, I’ll be fine.”

You grinned.  “Just don’t start drinking energy drinks again, I don’t want your kidneys to give out in the OR.”

Your statement made Law laugh as he reached over you and pulled the cord on the lamp once more, plunging the room back into darkness.  “I promise I won’t, that shit’s nasty anyway.  We can talk about it more in the morning and when it gets closer, though.”

The comfortable darkness filled the room as you snuggled into your husband’s arms.  “Sounds good, baby.”

A kiss to the skin of your forehead was the last sensation you felt before drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

—

“Okay, I know you guys said you didn’t want us to go crazy, but we went a little crazy.”

You and Law were seated on your loveseat across from Ikkaku, Shachi, and Penguin, who sat behind a plethora (read: a metric ton compared to the total volume of your apartment) of bags and boxes.  Ikkaku began rifling through some of the bags at her feet, grumbling about a list she had written down of your coworkers and what they had chipped in with.

Law was dumbfounded, his eyes wide and incredibly confused.  You felt a small kick in your belly, prompting you to sooth your bump with your hand.  You were about 24 weeks now, and your home wardrobe had largely consisted of Law’s oversized sweatshirts to account for your very pronounced abdomen.

Penguin clapped his hands.  “So, we didn’t want the lovely couple to get themselves worried about getting all their baby gear, so in these two boxes,” he interrupted his words to violently slap the unlabeled cardboard next to the armrest on his side of the couch, “are the cribs.  Two of them.  You know, for two babies.”

“And in these boxes,” Shachi kicked two more unlabeled boxes with his foot, “are bedspread sets for the crib mattresses.”

“Oh, shit, we still need the mattresses,” Penguin gasped, slapping Shachi’s shoulder making the red-head wince.

“Don’t they come with the mattresses already?” Shachi replied, rubbing his arm.

“I found it!” Ikkaku hollered, pulling out a double-sided sheet of loose-leaf paper.  “Okay, everyone from the office went behind your back and got a bunch of stuff for you.”  She cleared her throat and passed you a large holiday-themed gift bag, which you leaned forward to grab by the string handles and pull to rest in your lap.  “That one is from Nami.  She went kind of crazy with getting clothes, I told her to keep them gender neutral since you guys don’t know the sexes yet, but a lot of them are feminine anyway, so… let’s hope for girls.”

Law leaned over to peer into the large bag as you picked through it.  ‘Crazy’ was an understatement.  Nami had seemingly given you an entire wardrobe for the first year of your babies’ lives.  Onesies, shirts, pants, a bunch of bundles of newborn socks, little hats, headbands, swaddles with different patterns, mittens, and two winter coats that would fit them up to six months.  There was more beneath the initial assortment you sifted through.

“This entire bag is from only Nami?” you asked, completely bewildered.

“Well, Nami and Nojiko,” Ikkaku responded, skimming her list.  “Oh, there should be a small bottle of newborn laundry detergent in there, too.  Just F-Y-I.”

“Okay, so the cribs do in fact come with mattresses.  You just have to let them rise like bread for 24 hours before putting them in the cribs.  They should be firm,” Penguin explained, scrolling through his phone.

You cringed at the mention of bread.  You still hadn’t gotten your tolerance for the texture back.

“This next one is from Sanji and Zoro, but mostly Sanji.  He got you a set of baby monitors, two mobiles for each crib, and a diaper changing table.”  Ikkaku slid another box towards your feet.  The top of it was labeled with elegant handwriting that read, ‘TO THE LOVELY COUPLE~’.

Shachi dragged over another box.  “This is a double stroller.  All assembly required.”

“This bag is from Usopp, I think it’s a bunch of baby hygiene products.  Baby powder, light wipes, a few bags of diapers to get you started, some diaper station pads, little washcloths and towels, diaper cream, the works.”  Following her words, yet another bag was slid over to you, this time snatched by Law.

“Diapers are expensive,” he mumbled.  “How did everyone pull all of this together?”

Ikkaku shrugged.  “Sanji and Nami are well-off.  Usopp?  No idea.”  She dismissively looked back at her list.  “Oh, this next one’s from Ms. Boa.  I can’t remember what she put in it, though.”

Another box was kicked over your way, already open slightly for you to rifle through.  It was completely filled to the brim with everything you would need for breastfeeding.  Two breast pumps, a large volume of milk storage bags, nursing pads, and a few tubes of nipple cream.  At the bottom of the box, there was a variety of decorative bibs, a few baby bottles, a bottle warmer, and a specialized bottle sterilizer.  Your head was whirling.

“Guys, you’re making me dizzy,” you practically wheezed, leaning back against the couch.  Law rubbed your shoulder reassuringly.

“We’re almost done,” Shachi stated.  He picked up a bag next to Ikkaku’s shoe.  “Oh, I forgot.  This one’s from Rebecca.”

Law picked his head up.  “My head nurse?”

“Is that who that is?” Shachi asked, sliding over the bag.

“How did you get her number?” the surgeon asked, picking up the package and opening it.

“The hospital has a database with contact info.  You should tell them to update your picture, by the way.  You look dead in your current headshot.”  Penguin’s backhanded comment made you snort.

The gift from Rebecca was exactly what you would expect from a cardiology nurse.  A thermometer, a pair of baby nail clippers, petroleum jelly, a few rolls of sterile gauze, a first aid kit, an assortment of pacifiers, and a few baby toothbrushes.  He felt himself smile.  She had always been a caring, generous person.  While he was still a bit perturbed by the whole hospital database thing, it came as no surprise to him that Rebecca would be so generous as to provide gifts for her superior and his expectant wife.

“This is the last one I think,” Ikkaku mumbled, dragging over another box with her foot.  “Oh, this one’s from Luffy and his brothers!”

This time, both you and Law perked up.

“Luffy?” you asked.  “I haven’t seen him in, like, three years.”

“Where’d he even go, anyway?” Law asked.  “I lost track of him after a while.”

Ikkaku laughed, pushing the box toward you.  “Sanji told me something about his grandfather trying to force the three of them to join the military.  I think they moved somewhere just to get away from the hustle and bustle for a bit, but also to get away from that marine grandpa of theirs.”

“What was his name again?” Shachi asked.

“Garp, I think.  Isn’t there a picture of his face on that marine recruitment poster they keep hanging at the local community college?” Penguin queried.

“That’s right.”  Shachi snapped his fingers.  “I never liked that guy.”

You leaned over as far as you could manage with your belly to open the box from Luffy and his two older brothers.  On top of the packing, which was surprisingly well-done (probably not by Luffy), was a hand-written letter.

To the happy couple, Congratulations on your pregnancy!  It’s been so long since we’ve all gotten together, but I’m so glad to hear you’re both doing well.  At some point we’ll all reconnect, I’m sure Ace and Luffy would love to get to romp around with some toddlers, but at the same time, I would completely understand if you wanted anything but that.  Regardless, I hope this box of goodies finds you well.  Best of luck during the rest of your pregnancy!

From, Sabo (who wrote all of this, by the way), Ace, and Luffy

Beneath the newsprint used as packing material, a large collection of toys was compiled for the two of you to pick through.  A rolled up playmat, some teething toys, an assortment of cardboard baby books, some of which were medical themed, a portable pack-and-play, a generous bunch of baby toys for both the home and a stroller, and a few toy organizers.  It was assumed by everyone in the room that Sabo was the one responsible for picking everything out.  The other two most likely trailed behind and poked each other with toys from the children’s section of the local supermarket.  Regardless, the sentiment was appreciated.  A fond smile crawled onto your lips as you scooped up one of the toys from the box.  It was a sturdy stuffed white dog with floppy ears and a pink tongue.

“Bepo,” you called, beckoning your fur baby over.  “It’s you!”

Law grinned at the display, but quickly hid his face at the mischievous cooing noises his best friends were making from across the room.  Bepo was excitedly sniffing the nose of the dog toy before you plopped it back into the box to save for later.

“What’s the plan for you guys in terms of crib placement?” Ikkaku asked, cleaning up the space around her.

You and your husband glanced at each other.  You hadn’t actually thought about it much until then.  While your apartment was technically a two bed-one bath, the second bedroom was substantially smaller and filled with storage that the two of you always insisted you would one day tackle, but never did.  It became a closet forbidden for life, until now, that is.

“I think we’re going to clean out the second bedroom and use that,” Law answered for the two of you.  “That won’t be for a few more months, though.”

“Better get on it soon,” Shachi chided.  “Those little munchkins will be here before you know it!”

You grinned, tossing a glance at Law as he pinched the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.  You turned back to your friends across from you.  “Thank you guys for bringing everything over, though, I really appreciate it!  We both do.”

“Of course!” Ikkaku piped up before the other two could speak.  “I didn’t know when your maternity leave was going to start, so I wanted to make sure you got everything now.”

“A few more weeks,” you confirmed.  “But I’m glad to have all of this stuff so early, then we won’t have to stress when it gets closer to the due date.”

“Do you plan on breastfeeding?” Shachi asked suddenly.

“Shut it, Shachi,” Law barked.  “You just spoiled us.  Don’t test it now.”

The exchange made you laugh, Law seeming to smolder in the direction of his rowdy friends.  Your laughing seemed to trigger something in your babies, too, as you felt two simultaneous flutters in your belly.

You liked making them laugh.

[siltyriver]

𝐃𝐏𝐱𝐃𝐂 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐈𝐏 — ‘𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬’ ᴘᴛ. 2

part 1

“Hey- wha- Danny!” Jason yelled in panic and jerked forward, hands on the ledge to look down and body ready to vault after his idiot as quickly as he could, but was stopped by a familiar cackle, a sudden burst of light, and Danny himself standing, no floating, in front of him with stark white hair and green eyes that were quite literally glowing.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck,” he parroted his thoughts. His lips still tingled from where Danny had pressed his own against them and it was all together enough to make his brain short circuit.

“Yeah, so, uh, hi?” Danny waved lamely which turned into even lamer jazz hands, “Surprise?”

Jason blinked. And blinked again. “What the fuck,” he repeated again, this time with feeling. Danny winced a little and launched into an explanation.

“So, you know I died? Well, apparently while I was dying my DNA was also being infused with, like, a shit ton of ectoplasm which made sure I didn’t all the way die but I also didn’t come all the way back and ended up as half-ghost half-living — halfa is actually the term we use, but that’s not super important right now —” his words were nearly blending together with how fast he was trying to explain, “And, oh! I can transform at will and have been fighting ghosts since I was fourteen because they come through the same portal that I well, you know, died in, and I may also have some super cool powers and technically be King-to-Be of the Infinite Realms because I beat the last King in combat and inherited the throne, sooooo,” Danny finally stopped his word vomit. “Questions?” He finished meekly.

Jason stared and stared before tilting his head back and groaning. “Of fucking course my boyfriend would be a fucking ghost king. I am never going to live this down.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and turned to see Danny grinning lopsidedly at him. “What now?” He asked warily, suddenly feeling like a long nap would do him wonders and, really, the concrete roof was absolutely not the worst place he’d slept on before, so maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea—

Danny floated closer and Jason’s attention was stolen by the fact that his legs had transformed into a trail of… mist? Gas? What were ghosts even made of? Jason didn’t know but the sight was disconcerting and a little more than a bit distracting, especially paired with the skin-tight suit that had taken place of Danny’s usual baggier clothing. He took it all in with fascination and still a hint of disbelief.

“Boyfriend, huh?”

His eyes shot back up to Danny’s green ones and he flushed a bit at how close he had gotten without Jason noticing. He pinched his lips together when the question sunk in.

Well, in for a penny and all that.

Danny’s grin widened even more but Jason didn’t give him the time nor satisfaction to say something witty; he gave into his desires and cupped Danny’s face, noting both how strange it was to not have to lean down whatsoever to look Danny in the eyes (since he was still, y’know, floating) and how cold his skin was (Danny had always ran cold, but this was different, like the complete absence of any underlying heat that blood and skin produced).

Danny’s grin morphed into something softer and surprised, as if Jason had caught him off guard. Good. See how he likes it.

“Yes,” Jason stated, voice a bit gruff but soft between them, and Danny’s eyes darted back to his own from where they had been staring at Jason’s lips. Score. “Boyfriend,” and then, because he was a gentleman, thank you very much: “Only if you want, of cour—“ Jason was cut off by another press of lips on his own, only this time he was prepared and held on tighter, not letting Danny pull back as quickly.

Their lips stayed pressed together, soft and gentle and it made Jason ache with something fierce. He wasn’t used to tenderness. He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted. He wasn’t used to anyone wanting him back.

When they finally pulled away it was only to lean their foreheads against each other. Danny let out a breathless laugh and nudged his nose against Jason’s in a way that made his stomach flip at the casual affection. “Yes,” Danny said with another quick peck to Jason’s lips, “Boyfriends.”

Jason couldn’t stop the small, crooked grin if he had even wanted to try (and he really, really didn’t). It had been a long time since he had felt this good. This happy. Sure, he’d gotten a lot better in the past couple of years since he came back full of boiling green rage and the itch for violence at his fingertips, but Danny was the one to make him want to be better. Jason finally wanted to come back to himself, to allow himself the grace to forgive and be forgiven and move towards a future that wasn’t bathed in blood and tainted by the Pit Rage. He wanted a better relationship with his family. He wanted to do his city proud. And he wanted Danny by his side through it all, apparent Kingly status and everything.

“Good,” Jason said, drinking in the sight of Danny’s own giddy grin that showed off the longer and more pointed canines that Jason was definitely not imagining dragging along his skin. No siree. He shuddered, and it was definitely from the cold that Danny radiated. Nothing else.

Danny seemingly felt the shiver and pulled back a little more and with a flash of light he was back to his messy black hair and blue eyes, standing on the ledge with his arms around Jason’s shoulders much like they were before he had tried to give Jason a heart attack earlier. The temperature warmed a few degrees and Jason noted the fact to ask about later. “Good,” Danny parroted and then let out a little sigh, “Though, we really do need to talk about this so you actually know what you’re getting into. There’s… there’s a lot I need to explain.”

Jason nodded in agreement. He couldn’t imagine that anything Danny had to tell him would change the way he felt, but he would very much like to know everything. “My place or yours?”

Danny grinned mischeivously, “What, not the Batcave? The sooner I disclose my identity to all your bats the less chance of me slipping that I know and being hunted for sport, right? Plus, I think I could use Batman and Red Robin’s help on a couple of things assuming they’re amenable.”

Jason shook his head immediately, not wanting to imagine how the conversation would go with his entire family there to harass them without them being a hundred percent prepared (and very curious about what exactly Danny could need Bruce and Tim’s help with).

“Absolutely not. I’m not letting that conversation happen with you there until I know they can all behave themselves and not be asses about it. Jason was especially worried about Bruce’s reaction considering the man’s trust issues and his invasive need to pry and leave no stone left unturned. His siblings would be nosy and insufferable with their teasing but at least Jason was used to their antics and could shield Danny from the worst of it by giving them the short rundown before the full question panel had to happen. No, better for Jason to learn it all first and be able to prepare them both for the inevitable shitshow.

Danny shrugged, “Probably best to go to my place anyway; I stole a bunch of tech from my parents and it’s way easier to explain everything with some visual examples.”

Jason arched a brow, “What kind of tech?”

Danny’s grin was down right devilish as he transformed once more with a flash of light and held out an inviting hand as he floated a few feet away from the ledge, “How do you feel about going ghost hunting?”

Jason had a sudden feeling that Danny was going to be the death of him, but, strangley, the thought wasn’t nearly as frightening as it should have been. Maybe Danny was onto something when he said dying once really put things into persepctive. After all, there were much worse ways to go.

He confidently stepped onto the ledge and grabbed the offered hand tightly, “Bring it on, Ghost King.”

[godsfavoritescientist]

Billford Fic Recs: Part 1

Everything on this list is rated either Gen or Teen, so it’s accessible for the sex-repulsed billford fans out there. Part 2 will be all the fics that don’t fit within those ratings! Everything on this list (aside from the still-updating one) is a completed fic that was written year/s before Book of Bill came out. Most of these are under 5k words, and while most of them are pre-betrayal and canon compliant, there’s a few that cover different eras in the timeline and AUs. These are some of my all-time favorite billford fics, plus some bill-centric fics at the end of the list.

A Change of Scenery, by Nelja https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914882 Pre-betrayal, Ford’s perspective, 4k words

This fic really nails the devotion-to-the-point-of-obsession that Ford had for Bill. It’s one of the very first fics I think of when someone asks for recommendations. Really really top tier stuff. I wish there were more fics that had this same tone and a central focus on Ford’s obsessive worship of Bill. I can’t do this fic justice, you just have to experience the writing for yourself.

The Writing of Destiny, by Nelja https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256570 Pre-betrayal, Ford’s perspective, 1k words

This fic says so much with so few words. It goes over Ford’s feelings for Bill, as well as some moments in Ford’s life that led up to becoming the kind of person who would fall for Bill.

Devote, by orphan_account https://archiveofourown.org/works/8783656 Pre-betrayal, Ford’s perspective, 600 words

Ford gets a tattoo. This one is also chock full of the obsessive devotion Ford had for Bill. It’s a delicious little peek into how potent his feelings for Bill were.

Loose from the Lever, by clockheartedcrocodile https://archiveofourown.org/works/32120011/chapters/79575955 Pre-betrayal, mostly Fiddleford’s outside perspective, 9k words

The imagery and voice in this one is fucking impeccable. Best I’ve ever read on ao3. It’s also an absolutely chilling read. Fiddleford can sort of piece together the fact that Ford is working with… someone. And meanwhile, Ford’s relationship with Bill in this one is gut-wrenching to see. Bill is cold and calculating in ways that are arguably disproven by the book of bill, but it’s still such a believable read on their relationship.

Now You See, by MaryPSue https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134141 Mostly pre-betrayal, AU where Bill comes through the portal in the 80’s, 4k words

Only billford if you squint. This one’s about Ford undergoing a slow body horror transformation while building the portal. Bill stops him from enlisting Fiddleford’s help, and his uneasiness and isolation is so palpable. This fic is good at building atmosphere.

The Ol’ Three Legged Waltz, by equilateralromance https://archiveofourown.org/works/35691013 Pre-betrayal, AU where Bill is upfront about a lot more things from the start, 3.5k

This one has such a unique writing style, it feels very romantic in the classic sense of the word, like it was written in an era gone by. Their relationship is very soft and tender in this one, a win for fluff fans everywhere. It’s about the first time Bill possesses Ford, and is a very sweet what-if for a world where Bill is better at letting Ford in, emotionally speaking.

Stars in my black and blue sky, by idrilhadhafang https://archiveofourown.org/works/41989533 Ford reminisces on how much he used to love Bill. 1k words

Solid characterization in this one. It’s short and to-the-point and feels true to canon.

Weirdpocalypse, by completetheory https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798036 Post-canon, Bill visits Ford’s dreams, 1k words

This one’s a really interesting take on why Weirdmageddon failed. Very bittersweet.

One Stage of Grief, by Fooeyburr https://archiveofourown.org/works/13969392 Post-betrayal, Ford in the multiverse grappling with how he feels about Bill, 8k words

This one is all about Ford obsessing over what he had with Bill while refusing to come to terms with the fact that he cared about Bill! Which is all set up/framed by some fun multiverse worldbuilding, too. - Bonus round: Bill-centric fics -

Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone, by ckret2 https://archiveofourown.org/works/57714430/chapters/147167545 Post-canon, Bill dragged kicking and screaming down a very long road towards redemption, updates weekly and will end up being hundreds of thousands of words at minimum.

This is the fic for Bill growing and changing as a person in post-canon. Every single doubt and hesitation you might have about whether Bill is even capable of change? It’s absolutely taken into account in this one. Seriously, its characterization of Bill is so scarily good that it accidentally predicted a mountain of things that got revealed in the Book of Bill. If you invest your time in one super long fic in your life, make it this one.

A Romance of Many Dimensions, by Haley3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/20796845/chapters/49427522 Covers the span of Bill’s entire life in detail. Finished work. 250k words

A breathtakingly ambitious fic that consistently knocks it out of the park. There are so many things I could say about this fic that I don’t even know where to start. I feel a lot of things about this fic. If you’ve ever wanted a fic that delves into Bill’s psyche and is tragic in its (pre-tbob) canon compliance, and has an opening set in flatland that approaches things from a really creative angle, and has my favorite interpretation of the axolotl, and rewires your whole brain, then this is the fic for you. Feels a bit reductive when it covers Bill’s time interacting with Native Americans on earth, but otherwise one of The Fics of All Time.

[inglorionamy-ammy]

Of Home and Haven (Ch 1/6)

[Yes I love them and I am drawing them a cover lol]

Summary: A tender tale between an outlander barbarian and a scholarly wizard, navigating life, love, and belonging (aka. What "being together" means for them) in Waterdeep and beyond.

Pairing: Half-orc Barbarian F!Tav X Gale SFW

Word count: 3.2k

Notes: Welcome to my first venture into fan fiction!

A gigantic shoutout to @senualothbrok for guiding my newbie writing every step, for being my beta and English coach, and for being so enthusiastic about Gale AND Ta'V in general. Without you, I wouldn't have the courage to post the story.

For whoever ventured here, please enjoy :)

AO3 Link: Here

-------------

It still feels wrong to venture outside without the Nyrulna, your faithful trident.

Logically, you understand it’s a horrible weapon choice for the crowded streets of Waterdeep, its thunder damage a guarantee of passerby casualty. You are not expecting battles anyway — Compared to your last two months of tadpoled adventures and the previous ten years of your mercenary life, this is a significant change of pace. The violence rate here is obscenely low.

Ha. Astarion would have giggled at that, followed by a disapproving-but-amused headshake from your gentlemanly wizard. Gale Dekarios, your human, your man. Even counting your pillow, he is still the softest, finest thing you have ever laid hands on in your nomadic life. What a strange twist of fate, that a scheme of the Dead Three has led you to this treasure you'd never encounter otherwise. Perhaps a “thank you” is in order.

A lady always says thank you. Ma’s voice rings in your ears, a distant memory. You snort, not to her but to yourself. She had never lost faith in your ability to be civilized, even when you believed otherwise.

Now, it is Gale who has given you the courage to try out polite society again. The last time you set foot in a city, not including the cultist-infiltrated war-torn Baldur's Gate, was for an escort mission at Elturel. You and a few others were hired to travel with a half-elf noblewoman, her frail yet elegant frame reminiscent of the fawn you hunted a day before. In daylight, you rode next to her, vigilant for any potential danger. At night, you postponed your rest to hunt so that her private chef could prepare her precious meal, while you feasted on cheap rum and dry meat. You had no protest over such an arrangement, being right at home living simply in the wild. It was only when she deliberately changed her wagon into what you could only describe as a "show-off cart" to enter the city, that you felt a pang of distaste. Despite her so-called concern for safety, she wanted a crowd anyway, and a crowd was what she got. Unsurprisingly, when the crew marched past the city gate, the people of Elturel gathered to stare at her in awe and at you in fear. As you walked alongside the heavily decorated four-wheeled cart at a painfully slow pace, you silently thought, "That could be me sitting in there. I am half-human too, you know?"

But that’s where you stop. Focus. You have two missions today, the first being to bring a surprise lunch to your fiancé at Blackstaff Academy. You have roasted a pig leg as best as you could with his magical hob, picked out the freshest berries of the season, and scouted a rich full-red you know Gale will enjoy.

Wait. Is drinking allowed at school? You wouldn’t know, as your education came from your parents and the road. In any case, he can store it in his big, nice teacher’s room he gleefully described in detail when he first got his position a week ago. You had been celebrating at the Yawning Portal that night, and your drunken wizard had lovingly leaned on your arm, so overjoyed that, despite being in public, he cheekily rubbed his beard against you like a spoilt kitten. You just couldn’t resist giving his soft hair a good pat.

“T-This is surreal,” he sighed, with a lazy gaze under half-lidded eyes. “Please, my love, join me someday. I have so many stories to share —it is my second home after all!”.

You liked the place already. If that is where he belongs, then you must go there as well.

In the end, you decide to give up the Nyrulna and pick a simple axe, just for safety measures. It should be a perfect choice: small enough to hide under your cloak and cheap enough not to make a fuss, even if it got confiscated by an academy guard. Tracing its metal notches reminds you of Karlach, a fellow barbarian soldier. You miss that woman.

You check yourself in the mirror one last time, adjust your dreadlocks, and take a deep breath. Time to face polite society.

---

"STOP."

You hold up your hands as two steel sentinels halt you at the gate of the renowned Blackstaff Academy. It is a gesture you have practiced many times, wary and expectant. Behind them, the arcane tower looms over you. The voice of the guards sounds too hollow and unified, a single echo shared between the duo. Remotely controlled guards then, you think, impressed.

“STATE YOUR PURPOSE.”

“I am here to see Gale Dekarios, Professor of the Illusion School.” You practiced this also, more times than you’d ever admit.

“School of Illusion,” the voice corrects you. Now it sounds like a sentient being, not like that weird projection of Lorroakan’s at Sorcerous Sundries. The masculine voice has a pinched, haughty tone and an air of tired condescension. You are immediately reminded of wizards and their pride in education; how a long time ago, when you had miraculously succeeded in channeling the Weave for the first time and shared your joy with Gale — “I didn’t know channeling the Weave was so easy” — he wasted not a second to remind you that, in fact, it is not. Somehow, that awkward moment has now turned into a soothing memory.

“Hm-Right.” You cough to hide a snort. “I am his wife. I would like to bring him lunch. May I pass the gate?” As an afterthought, you add, “Please?” Your Ma would be proud.

“LIAR. Piss off before I chase you out.”

Of all the responses you expected, this is not one of them. You are growling before you know it. “I suggest you KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT.” The words rush harshly out of your fanged mouth.

…uh.

In an instance the two sentinels spring into a battle stance. Worse still, you can feel onlookers start to gather, and your skin itches under their gazes. You force an exhale.

“…What makes you think I am lying?” You try as calmly as you can manage, holding onto the mental image of your smiling wizard, just beyond reach. Volo’s book better gets published sooner so that everyone will know who you are. Better yet, you will make sure he highlights the word ‘wife’.

“Professor Dekarios is not married.” The sentinels, with the smuggest voice you have ever heard in your life, drop their final blow.

And that is when you remember. Yes, you are still technically his fiancée, even though the man himself has often forgotten that, already showering you with affection far deeper than a ring could ever capture.

Perhaps someone more eloquent would continue to argue, ask Gale to come out, and demand proper treatment for a lady. But right now you only feel overwhelmingly exposed, with too many prying eyes and wiggling tongues for you to maintain your civil façade any longer. So you retreat, trying to ignore the unsubtle snickers. The sentinels were not as clever as they thought they were anyway. What kind of guards reveal personal details to a potential enemy like that? Amateur.

---

What would Gale do to remedy the day? He would strategize.

You decide to call upon Tara to deliver the meal, and if the sentinels deny her entry they will know true horror. Her outrage upon hearing your encounter was enough to cheer you up. After all, your goal is to get your love fed, and the means—who is doing the delivery — are less important than the ends.

With that dealt with, you now need to focus on your second mission—to pass a job interview. You have decided that settling down in polite society means less fighting, but there is no way you’d just stay at home and rely on Gale’s income, even though he wouldn’t mind. The man is more than willing to provide for you, but you wouldn’t want to lounge around in the tower, hanging off his coattails. Truth be told, this is for your own good too—you truly wish to be a part of Waterdeep by playing an active role in it, not just as a tag-along of Gale’s.

Of the ten positions you applied for in the past month, you only got one reply: a counter clerk at the Aurora's Realms Shops next to the Market. Gale had frowned when he heard about the demanding dusk-till-dawn working hours, but you assured him you’d only take shifts six days out of a tenday. He had tried to argue further, but upon seeing your determination, swallowed his questions. You both know that if you had applied to be a city guard, a dock laborer, or even a weaponry store assistant, you’d get better offers. But you have decided that you want a change. More sitting, less fighting. To be polite. Chit-chat with people. To smile without malice.

So, on leaving Blackstaff, you arrive at the shopfront five minutes before your interview. You scan the two queues before you: one inside the shop and one outside. A queue for a counter clerk job at this paid rate? You lament, Waterdeep and its gods forsaken job market.

You push open the glass door, and upon seeing you enter, a human woman with a clipboard swiftly calls, “Oh. The interview for security guards is outside.”

“I am here for the counter clerk one.” Several candidates from the queue indoor turn to you curiously. To be fair, all of them are tinier than you; you’d have no problem reaching the top shelf, or lifting one, if you ever needed to.

“Ah. Right.” The lady is polite enough to look embarrassed. “And your name?” She shows you her clipboard as you tower over her, and as you scan through the long list she adds helpfully, “Or you can just tell—” “I know how to read.” You stop her mid-sentence, your harsh tone making her wince, and you wince too. Gods, you need to get better at this. Apologetically, you soften your voice, “This is me,” pointing to your name on the list.

“Ta’V Riversong?” She is surprised. Does she recognize the Hero of Baldur’s Gate? She does not start praising your great deeds, so you assume no, you aren’t that lucky. It must be the other reason then.

 “Yes,” you explain. “Riversong is my Ma—mother’s surname, she’s a human.”

This is one thing you share with Gale: taking your mother’s family name. Your father, however, did not abandon the family like Gale’s father did. Instead, your father understood—theirs was a runaway marriage, and your mother had sacrificed a lot to settle down with a barbarian deep in the woods, away from civil society. Her name was her last connection to her noble past, and your father could never deny her that. Idly, you wonder if this woman has heard of your mother’s family. Growing up, you never cared enough to learn about this illusion of a heritage.

“I see,” she says meekly. “Sorry…It’s just that from your application, I didn’t expect you to be a half-orc.”

---

And that is why you end up shit-faced in a random tavern. You don’t even bother to look at the tavern sign as you stumble in, determined to leave behind the interview, the Academy, and polite society as soon as possible. You order whisky first, then firewine, because you can’t afford to waste money, given that you definitely won’t get the job. You understand. They want someone less intimidating. Of fucking course.

You are almost delighted when you feel hostility flushing towards you.

The hair at the back of your neck stands. At the corner of your eye you spot the flash of a cunning dagger, which you recognize as a Murderous Cut. Ah, local Bhaal cultists then. You may have had a bad day, but at least you can make theirs worse. You down your drink in one go, and without further ado, send the mug right into a cloaked figure’s face.

In an instant the whole tavern breaks into chaos. As the others reveal their weapons, you realize something: You have missed this. The axe you wield breaks through wind and skulls. Frenzied roars explode from the depth of your lungs, your charge unstoppable and inevitable. This is the part of yourself you used to be most proud of, the warrior that you were trained to be, born from ashes and forged in flames.

FIGHT ME! You father shouted, signaling the start of the match.

Two figures charge at you. You ground your stance before taking a full-body swing, slashing open both poor souls at once. With a kick you send one of them towards the side, knocking over a clamour of plates and glasses.

SIDE! He took advantage of your open stance.

A blade cut scratches your cheek, but you promptly ignore its stink of poison. You grab the man and throw him right at a ranger in the corner, knocking both of them out. Perhaps you are enjoying this too much, but when you look at the screaming Waterdhavians, your grin is wide and true. You will not be tamed.

CHARGE!

As you knock down your last enemy you feel free, freedom that you haven’t tasted for months since you arrived in this godsdamned city. You rise, wobbling, and you see your father grinning proudly. On the day you had beaten him down finally, he had pronounced you a worthy adult. You were sixteen, ready to hit the road. You laugh maniacally, in joy and sorrow and everything else you can’t name. You know Gale could name them. Yes. Gale. The smartest, sweetest person you’ve ever known.

And then you collapse.

---

You were inside his purple tent. Late at night, he illuminated it with floating orbs, reclining between your legs as he read his tomes. He was so focused, and you couldn’t help but distract him with a kiss on top of his head as you gently traced circles on his stomach.

He chuckled, low and warm, then leaned back against you.

“This is one mystery I’ll never solve,” he began, closing his tome. “Why oh why would such a wonderful, ferocious, tenacious warrior ever set her sights on someone as brittle as me?”

“I could ask the same in reverse, but I ran out of adjectives,” you muttered sleepily and he laughed, setting his hands on top of yours as his thumb stroked your calloused skin.

You knew he was unsatisfied, so you tried your best, despite the pulling weight on your eyelids, to set his ever-churning mind to rest.

“You smell good,” you managed, and he laughed even louder.

But you needed him to understand. You pushed out one last word.

“Home.”

He went quiet as you fell asleep.

---

You hear…

“Ta—”

Something. Familiar. Wings.

“Ta’V—”

It’s the smell that gets you.

“TA’V!”

“WHAT? I’m awake, I’m awake. Don’t fret!” You jerk up, snapping out of your coma. It is Gale who holds your face urgently, his brows tightly knitted, knees rough on the hard ground. Next to him, Tara flutters her wings, startled by your sudden movement.

You are elated to see them, and you want to tell them so. But something in his glistening eyes makes you pause.

“Don’t fret?” His voice is an octave higher than usual. “You were lying on the ground alone, bleeding, unconscious, surrounded by godsdamned cultists, AND YOU TELL ME TO NOT FRET?”

Dead cultists, you want to counter, but your overflowing relief finally spills over.

“I love you,” you say instead, and Tara twists her tail in amusement.

Gale stares at you for a long time. Finally, with a deep breath, he relents.

“And I you. Let’s go home, shall we?”

---

While you have never been well-versed in sentimental things, you do understand that this situation calls for a hug. So you gather him into a squeezing embrace as soon as the two of you stumble out of the portal. Tara, in the meantime, settles herself on the kitchen counter, waiting for the drama to unfold.

To cheer him up, you decide to start with something happy. “So…did you enjoy the meal Tara brought you?”

You feel him tense, so you hug him harder. A moment later, he nods against your chest.

“It was wonderful,” he mutters. “I savored every bite, sang the chef’s praises to anyone who’d listen.” He pauses. “I learnt from Tara what happened at the gate.”

“Oh, well. Perhaps I shouldn’t have dropped by without a head’s up.”

He pushes himself away from your chest and stares sternly into your eyes. “That is not the point. I swear, the first thing I’ll do next time I return to the Academy is to teach that young man Endorick a very serious lesson on manners. That was pure disrespect, not only to you but to everything the Blackstaff stands for. In fact, the only reason I was delayed was because of the next bit of shocking news Tara relayed to me.” His gaze turns sorrowful. “My love, would you please tell me what happened?”

You grunt. Talking has never been your strong suit, but it is Gale’s preferred mode of communication, so you push through it. You tell him about the failed interview, the resulting drinking, and the fight. You try to describe your feelings along the way, knowing that it will comfort him to know more about you. At the end of your narrative, he falls silent.

Then he announces abruptly, “Let’s pack.”

“What? Why?”

Gently, he presses his hand against your cheek. His voice is firm and tender when he says, “It was never my intention to cause you such pain, or to mold you into something different than what you are now.” He grimaces. “In fact, I can scarcely believe I truly deserve to have someone as wonderful as you by my side as a friend and a wife. So we can go, far away from here, travel again, meet your parents perhaps! Anywhere that makes you happy, I will follow.”

“But what of your teaching?” You counter, and you are almost appalled when he shrugs. “I have barely started. I’m sure the esteemed, resourceful Blackstaff Academy can manage without—"

“NO!” You stumble, hands gesturing frantically. “This is your dream! Your second home, you said!”

“And you are my first,” he declares without hesitation. “I know my choice.”

Your head hangs. You feel dejected. He doesn’t get it.

There are too many thoughts swirling in your head, words starting to slump and melt and break. You can’t explain yourself, and you can’t keep up with this conversation anymore. Unlike Gale, you must see and touch to manipulate. As you fall silent, you can sense Gale’s increasing concern.

Finally, you proclaim, “I will show you tomorrow.”

---

This is why, when the morning comes, your fiancé will find himself awake before you — a rare occurrence — and reading a great puzzle in the form of a simple note, carefully pried from your fist as you doze. It reads, in handwriting he finds as endearingly boorish as its owner:

“I want to work at Blackstaff Academy too.”

Chapter 2

---

Thank YOU for reading this story. Tell me what you think! It would make my day :)

Other things that I do

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #1 A mother’s love stretches throughout the realms

Imagine dis…

 What if Danny Fenton is a reincarnated version of Martha Wayne (I’d like to think that she is a badass woman, not your typical rich girl) When the portal accident happened he began remembering the life before Daniel “Danny” Fenton happened. At first, he thought that these memories are nothing more than ‘dreams’, as dreams kept us all day and are often forgotten the moment we wake up but every time he woke up from each ‘dream’ he kept remembering the love and fondness to a man who has the same built to his dad. The care, protectiveness, and love that he gave to Dani to a young male that looked like him, the feeling would cling to him throughout the day. The feeling of protectiveness would amplify his own. He wants nothing more than to find that blurred young boy and make sure that they are right. His core kept aching for that two individuals.

Far worse each year on a specific day. The horror and fear crawled up his spine as well the relief and safety towards the mystery boy.

The moment Danny turned 18 he was crowned as the High king in the Infinite Realm. The moment the crown and ring are within him he is bombarded with information about the information and secrets of the Infinite Realm, he also remembered his son.

He tried to find his husband, Thomas Wayne but was saddened that he couldn’t find his love. But also felt relief seeing that he found peace in his afterlife for him to move on.

After making sure that the balance is restored throughout the realm he wishes to see his son one more time. Using the information he got when he was crowned he navigated through the Infinity realms and entered the DC universe.

He turned invisible to see his son in Gotham, but what greeted him made him fear the worse.

There lay a very injured Batman, how did she know it has his son? Never heard of the phrasing “There is an endearing tenderness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all other affections of the heart”

She knew that is her boy, and quickly turned to help his son. Learning under the teaching of the yetis, especially through Frostbite’s guidance he is able to make himself stable enough.

Pressing the panic button under his utility belt he can’t help but linger his eyes towards his boy.

His boy who has done much and given much, he who has so much to love to give, who gave all of his heart, body, soul, and mind to those he calls sons and those who he considers his kin, his boy who turned into a fine young man.

All of a sudden, he wasn’t in a grimy alley anymore but at the Wayne manor taking care of a 7-year-old Bruce who fell ill after playing under the rain.

Thomas his love, besides their son, whispers how he is handling that cold like a champ while Alfred is carrying an empty bowl of chicken soup out of the room.

He can’t help but go back to his old habits, rubbing his boy’s chubby cheeks, promising sweet words to his boy that It will be all right. While singing his lullaby for him.

The moment Nightwing appeared, a lingering cold air remained at the spot beside the man he call father.

It's been a few days since Bruce was recovered and healed up in the manor, having Dick fill in the gaps of Batman for a few days.

At the cave, Bruce is trying to recover the audio as well as the recordings through his cowl as he refused to be compromised. His children assured him that when the rest of them have gotten there he was all bandaged up and no one near could have been his savior. He refused to take the such chance.

The video is nothing more than a lost cause but the audio is clear enough for Batman to listen through it.

The situation, the faint feeling of fingers rubbing his cheeks, and the whispering words of reassurance made him remember but it was the lullaby that sealed the deal and made him freeze up

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

No…

There is only one person who knows that song… that night he knew he looked like a man on a mission.

Who is that person who clearly knows his mother’s lullaby to him?

Somewhere near Crime alley, Danny is thinking of meeting the rest of his grandchildren's booth that was adopted officially and unofficially by his son's booth in and out of their suits.

As well as thinking of ways to heal and avenge his second grandchild looks like Jason got his hatred on clowns.

Hey! He may be Martha Wayne at one point but he is also currently Danny Phantom who is the king of Infinite realms, Champion of Balance but most importantly hates clown with passion as well willing to beat that clown up for killing his grandson.

 PS: If someone out there wanting to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so.

[virtual-tchotchkes]

Some Campaign 2 moments I wish to see included in the upcoming Mighty Nein animated show even though they wouldn't have anything to do with moving the plot forward:

1. Jester whispering "thank you" with her arms wide open to ask an exasperated Essek for a hug, to which he ends up awkwardly and begrudgingly relenting to.

2. "Hello, bees!"

3. "Do do do hmm hmm doughnuts!", "Hey, Plank King!" and some more of Jester's most hysterical Sendings.

4. That tender moment between Yasha and Caleb when she shaved his beard with her sword.

5. When Nott tried to steal from Fjord but she got caught by Molly.

6. Beau's asshole pet owl, Profesor Thaddeus.

7. The Nein bringing their horses through Cobalt Soul portals and then getting banned from every archive branch in Wildemount because of it.

8. The Nein turning Yussa's tower into their personal teleportation portal.

9. The Bad Luck Bandits

10. "Oh, Oskar." and every time Jester referenced Tusk Love to the ire of Fjord.

11. Fluffernutter!

12. Fjord and his unfortunate dealings with murderous turtles.

13. Nott's rendition of Sweet Caroline but in Abyssal.

14. Yasha who smells like a crayon.

15. Nott shooting at Beau's butt while they were racing.

16. "Help, it's again" and more of Caduceus' high wisdom low intelligence moments.

17. Beau letting out the Tracy in her to flirt with a guard.

18. Kiri accidentally spilling Nott's secret husband's name to the party.

19. When Yasha learned how to properly use "I killed my whole family, I'll throw you under the bridge" in a sentence.

20. The whole Platinum Dragon prank debacle that Nott and Jester did just so Jester's absentee deity will like her again.

...I honestly have so much more to add, but I would love to hear yours!!!

[baiabay]

No Role Modelz (ATSV Black Cat Variant! Reader Insert)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6: Current Chapter

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^^links 2 chapters!! this story is also on ao3, wattpad, and quotev under the same name

-----------------------------------------------------

Chapter Six: Bye Felicia!

-------------------------------------------------

Fucking exhausted.

At this point you weren’t even thinking, just letting adrenaline drive your movements. But the thing about adrenaline, it runs out. And you weren’t sure how much of it you had left, or how long this mess was supposed to last. 

While dodging debris and hauling around citizens, you came to a realization. Unlike the others, you didn’t have powers. You were never bitten by a radioactive kitten, and neither was your father as far as you’re aware. You didn’t shoot out hairballs from your palms or have super-strength, you couldn’t claw your way up walls or always land perfectly on your feet, unlike the others, you were just human. And your human-ness was really starting to weigh down on you right about now, as you felt your feet slide out from under you, and your wrists start to ache while you did your best alongside Pav to keep a city bus from toppling over the edge of a broken bridge. 

You grit your teeth and groaned, nothing in your mind but fuzz, body fueled by the desperate willpower the screams of civilians around you provided. Squeezing your eyes shut, you felt the ground rumble behind you, deepening the cracks that formed around your feet. A pained shout of Miles’ name from Gwen sounded out. 

After what felt like forever, the strain on your arms had been slightly relieved. You cracked your eyes open, met with Hobie by your side, joining you in the upward pull of the city bus. After a few more hearty tugs, the bus was finally on solid ground. You heaved a heavy sigh, finally feeling the full weight of your adrenaline crash. Your mind spun and your stomach churned. Under you, your legs began to wobble. With nothing but exhaustion on your mind, you embraced the slump of your body that followed. Before you felt yourself hit the ground, a firm hand gripped your shoulder, steadying your unstable form. Besides you, an English accent mumbled some sort of consolidation your ringing ears didn't manage to pick up. Still, in your hazy state, you turned your head towards Hobie and shakily parted your lips. “...Is it over?” 

Before you could catch a response, you felt a new pair of arms wrap themselves around your form. You clamped your eyes shut in surprise, and by the time you opened them, the intimate squeeze that engulfed you was gone. In front of you, Pav stood with a hand on his chest, head lowered in a silent ‘thank you’. Despite everything, a smile crept its way onto your face. 

The tender moment was quickly cut short with more rumbling. But this wasn’t another signal of more destruction, it was different. This time it felt…warbled…time bending. In the direction of the noise, what looked like a giant, spider-shaped ship descended from a bright portal. It landed with a heavy thud, and opened its large mouth to release what looked like…more? Spider-people…? You let out a wry laugh. You were beginning to sense a pattern.

Walking first out of the ship with an air of authority, was a familiar face. “Okay, guys, secure the area, clear all civilians, and let’s contain this quantum hole.” Your mind flashed back to the night you and Miles jumped headfirst into this mess. In the midst of Spots’ destruction that night, her holographic form stood alongside Gwen. Just as you were about to turn to mention this revelation to Miles, he was already taking confident strides towards the pregnant hero. Not before grabbing a hold of your wrist and dragging you behind him, forcing you to join him in his determined trot towards the now-frowning Spider-woman. Of course.

Your brows began to knit together and a nervous smile plastered itself on your lips. “Hah…Miles, what do you think you’re doing,” You tried to tug your wrist away, which he did loosen his grip, but his stride didn’t falter once. Breaking your train of worry, he spoke your name. “Just trust me with this.” He replied with a shrug in his shoulders and a smile clear in his voice. “Trust me.” He squeezed your wrist before letting go and quickening his pace, now walking in front of you. 

Similar to his determined stride, the cheeriness in his voice refused falter as he began to address the Spider-heroine. “Hey, I’m Miles, and uh, that’s Black Cat back there,” The pregnant hero jutted her chin into the air, walking with clear frustration thinly veiled with nonchalance. Despite her obvious display of ignorance towards him, Miles continued. “Uh- we all actually met before, when I was invisible and Cat-” A knot began to weave and tighten in your stomach as you felt the gaze of the older woman meet yours. She lowered her chin, looking at you through her eyebrows. She walked quicker now, towards you. You gulped. “I know who you are,” She mumbled, finally addressing Miles. “But you, Hardy,”

huh?

 She stopped before you, never once breaking her glare. She let out a deep sigh, letting her shoulders slump. You, on the other hand, couldn’t be any more tense. “You’re really not supposed to be out here.” 

How did she know my name?

“How do you know my-”

“Okay- wait, let me explain-” Gwen stepped between the two of you. “Miguel wants you back at HQ.” Gwen was quickly shut down before any sort of explanation could escape her masked lips. “Wait, where are we-” “All of you.” Your confused sentiments were quickly shut down as well, met with a quick sweep of the hand of the hero before walking off towards the ship. The knot in your stomach loosened. Only slightly. Beside you, Miles whooped excitedly. “I’m going to HQ?”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I just can’t catch a break, huh?”

You shouted towards the rest of the group from the ceiling. Or was it the floor? Or maybe just a wall? This building made no sense to you. Granted, it probably wasn’t designed with Cats in mind. While Miles, Gwen, and Hobie walked comfortably upside-down, their feet sticking effortlessly to every surface they touched, you relied on swinging your form around via grappling hook. Occasionally, gravity would be on your side and you would catch yourself walking like normal across what you assumed was a floor, but just as you would start to get comfortable, you began to fall upwards. Or would it be downwards?

“It’s a bit much, innit?” Hobie mumbled back. “Pff,” You chucked. “More than a bit- SHIT-!”

Doubling over in pain, you let go of your hook. Screaming out, you tried to grab at yourself in an attempt to ground the sting that shot through your nerves. You tried to grab at yourself, but you felt nothing. You felt like you were coming undone. You were coming undone, you were falling apart, you were-

“Here.”

And as the pain was never there, it was gone entirely. A pressure on your wrist. Looking towards your arm you were met with  a bright blue rubbery band.

“It’s a day pass. Keeps you from…” You heard the same pained grunt from Miles, who now crouched beside you, face contorted in pain. “…doing that.” He snapped the band across his wrist, sending you a worried glance before helping you up. 

Continuing your trek through the HQ, you subconsciously felt yourself grow more on guard. You recognized this feeling, it was the exact same one you would always feel while sneaking past security during heists, the exact same feeling you would get slinking around CCTV cameras late at night. 

You were being watched. 

Glancing around the space, you easily confirmed that yes, you were being watched. Quite intensely too. As you trudged behind the group you instinctively rested your hand on the holster of your whip, noticing how the masked eyes of the Spider-people around you seemed to follow your every move. You lifted your chin, adjusting your posture to walk with a stronger, cockier air in your step. The staring turned to whispers, the whispers turned to murmurs. Your lips began to pull into a smirk. Once again, The Black Cat was watched, feared, the center of attention. 

Would it be wrong if you said you missed this feeling?

If you focused enough, you could decipher the mumblings that floated around you. And one thing especially kept on putting you off. 

…The Black Cat…Cat is here?...Black Cat…Hardy…Cat Burglar…Thief…Hardy…Cat.. Hardy?…Hardy…Hardy…

…Felicia?

They all knew your goddamn name. Your last name, at least. Fearful mumbles of ‘Hardy, Hardy, Hardy’ filled your ears, mixed with another name you didn’t recognize. ‘Felicia, Felicia, Felicia’. You tried to not let how disturbed you were show on your face. Lifting your head higher, you continued your strut.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who’s in these lazer cages?”

You asked, eyes illuminated orange by the glowing prison before you.

“Anomalies,” Answered above you, a small, weirdly fashionable, digital avatar. “Folks who ended up in the wrong dimension. We kick their butts and send them home.”

Glowering looks were sent in the direction of the group as you and Miles curiously peered at the multiple caged anomalies in the room. Men with eight tentacled arms strapped to their backs, tall figures with crystal balls for heads, a man with the posture of a vulture, a literal vulture- the oddities were neverending. 

One in particular caught your eye. A leaner, more feminine figure stood with a cocked hip and arms crossed. The knot was back. Tightening, twisting, as you stepped slowly towards the orange enclosure. As you got closer, more features made themselves apparent to you. Thin heeled boots blended seamlessly into a skin-tight, grayscale suit. Crossed arms lined with white fur lead into ladylike hands, with long, pointed nails decorating their fingertips. A deep v-neck, prominent collarbones, red-painted lips, blue eyes, a tight, high ponytail-

Cat ears.

It seemed both you and the lady before you felt the same way about each other's presence, watching with wide eyes as hers widened as well. By now, the knot has doubled, tripled, tied around itself and every organ in your body. Whatever type of confidence you managed to muster in yourself earlier was long gone now. In front of you, plump, red lips parted to speak. 

“Felicia?”

That name again. Shocked still, you shook your head ‘no’. The lady let out a wry laugh. “I know a Cat when I see one,” The click-clacks of high heels sounded out as she stepped closer towards the edge of the cage, now crouching so her face was leveled with yours. She had an elegant, mature face. Her lips were stretched into a small, relaxed smile, but the pained scrunch that was knit into her forehead told you that relaxed was the last thing she was feeling at this moment. “But you’re so…young.” A sigh, followed by a feline-like stretch as she stood back up in her enclosure. “They’re not gonna like you in here, y’know. They’ll make you ‘Go Home’ as soon as he finds out who you are.” 

“Wait- wait,” You finally spoke up, breaking out of whatever trance the two of you were caught up in. “Who’s ‘he’? And who are you? And why do you look like me but not…really? And everyone in here knows my last name for some reason and it’s been driving me fucking crazy-”

“Let’s go!” Down the hall behind you, Hobie called out over his shoulder. Another sigh from the anomaly. “Listen, kid. Stay safe. Please.” “You’re not telling me anything-” “It’s too complicated to explain right now, kid.” “I’m not a kid-” 

“Felicia Hardy. Black Cat.”

“...you’re…but I-”

“And you’re not the first, or the last, that’s been in this place. Trust me, I’ve seen my fill.” 

“But…how?”

“I don’t know how. But I do know that you need to be careful, please. Knowing you, er- us, getting tangled in situations as big as this never ends well-”

“Cat, c’mon!” Hobie called out again. Felicia pressed her lips together, sending you a knowing gleam in her blue eyes and a slight nod. Backing up from her cage, you nodded back. A silent pact, a mysterious bond formed between the two of you that you didn’t really understand. Nevertheless, you trudged on.

“Coming!”

[quitealotofsodapop]

So in your Tiger Monk AU how many kittens does Sanzang end up having?

Was it an easy birth or were there complications?

How many sons and/or daughters?

What are their names?

Do any of his cat suitors (particularly Azure) try to court him by showing him that they can get along with and take care of his kittens?

Only to met with the kittens’ claws and Sanzang’s hissing (and that’s just when the other pilgrims aren’t around 🤣)

Do any of the demons that still try to eat Sanzang go after the kittens, thinking their flesh and blood will have the same effect as their baba’s (mama?) ?

And which of the pilgrims (and Macaque) ends up being the kittens’ favorite babysitter?

Prev.

While it would hilarious to torment our dear Monk with a large litter (Tigers sometimes get up to seven kittens/cubs at a time), odds are he ends up with the average 2-4 kittens.

Tripitaka takes to the "mother/mama" title more readily than the male counterparts. After all, if the Bodhisattva can be referred to in both male and female terms, why can't he?

His worst symptoms (in his opinion) is an overwhelming craving for organ meat. He finds it disgusting, but he needs that iron.

The only reason Tripitaka isn't swamped by suitors like before is because they're all afraid of whom was able to father the Great Monk's young (i.e. himself via river magic).

Tripitaka only choses two names at first, A boy and girl, telling his disciples that they can choose any extras when the time comes. He wants to honour his parents, Chen Guangrui (陳光蕊) and Yin Wenjiao (殷溫嬌), whom he nor his children will ever truly know, so he ensures both names contain a character from each.

Wēnhòu/温厚 - "good natured, warm and generous". Wukong got confused after hearing this name since it sounded like "tender monkey". That was unintentional, but Wukong excitedly thought the second character was to honour him, and Tripitaka was too tired to change it

Bōguāng/波光 - "reflection of sunlight on waves". A very pretty name. Ao Lie started laughing when he heard it and wouldn't tell Tripitaka why until the gang encountered Prince Mo'ang. "Master is naming his first born son Boguang!" Now all the dragons think Tripitaka did it as a sign of good faith to dragon kind.

Tripitaka has no delusions on the matter; he is male from birth, and the only reason he knows he can survive this mystical pregnancy is 1: A Demon's natural ability to shapeshift, 2: His increased healing ability, 3: Surprising reassurance from the Six Eared Macaque of all people.

(*the Pilgrims have set up camp for the night, all asleep save for a certain monk. Tripitaka is praying, still unfathomably worried about his and his child's health.*) Macaque, manifesting from the shadows: "Cut the mopping, fluffy. I can hear it from across the valley." Tripitaka, eyes fixed on the fire: "I'm sorry..." Macaque, sighs and groans: "My ears... aren't just for show you know. They don't just hear the Now, but also the Past, and Future. It's all in the wind." Tripitaka: "That's a marvellous ability to possess. But I fail to see how it will help-" Macaque: "You're going to be fine. You and your kids. Thats what I've heard." Tripitaka: (*surprised but secretly ecstatic with the news. Rubs hand on stomach where a lot of kicking it happening*) Tripitaka, warm smile: "Thank you, Liu'er Mihou. You've put a great worry of mine to rest." Macaque, acting nonchalant: "Whatever. Just don't want to be kept up all night by your panicking. There's three by the way." Tripitaka: "...wait, THREE!?!" Macaque, evil smile: "Enjoy!" (*shadow portals away*)

The cubs likely only arrive after some years (demonic pregnancy and all), and whilst it would be nice and clean for them to only arrive after the gang completes their Journey...

Imagine the utter chaos that would occur if the Great Monk's children decided to be born at Lion Camel Ridge? >:3

The Pilgrims and the Brotherhood are arguing, causing a huge fuss when Tripitaka, like a character in a Victorian romance novel, faints upon the nearest surface.

Guanyin teleports on scene and tells everyone to STFU - baby Golden Cicadas are in-bound!

The process is long and tiring, but doesn't have many complications. The main issue is trying to keep the parent awake - Tripitaka depleting all his energy to bring his children into the world.

Wenhou/温厚 (First Born): A feisty little girl. Is out kicking and hissing before her eyes even open. Has more prominent white markings than orange or black. A right diva/princess of a kitten, if something doesn't go her way, she lets everyone know about it. Bajie can't say no to his baby niece, and spoils her rotten despite Tripitaka's objections.

Boguang/波光 (Second Born): A confused little panther (black-furred tiger) who immediately gets into an argument with his older sister when she kicks him. Mostly chill but quick to sibling-on-sibling violence. Most mischievous. Loves hiding in people's hair, and due to blending in and causing his family to panic searching for him; his fave is Macaque (the feeling is mutual).

Tangzǐ/唐子/"Little Tang/Tangy" (Third Born): The runt of the litter. Tangzi took a much longer time to arrive than his siblings and even longer to start crying, worrying his family immensely. Guanyin even stepped in to rub the baby's chest until they got a solid angry "Mew!" from him. Eventually though, he's heartily eating and has as much hunting instinct as a sheep. Loves his Uncle/Big Brother Wukong the most-

HEY WAIT A MINUTE:

When did he get here!?

But yeah, 3rd babu is LMK Tang. All lazy and hungry and giving the big kitten eyes to get what he wants. He's named "Tangzi" as a joke to how much he looks like his mama + a pun on how much he exaggerates things like his hunger or how big that bug he saw was.

Tripitaka sighs tiredly. He never thought he could love someone so much until he met his cubs. He instinctually grooms them clean as a mother tiger would, and only allows his closest companions near enough to see them.

In drafting these Tripitaka river-kiddos I realised I accidentally did something XD

As for suitors and those who'd wish the kittens harm - it will be certainly a task to get anywhere close to them with not only their protective mama tiger nearby, but also their vigilant uncles!

If a demon ever actually managed to harm one of the babies to try and consume their divine energy - Guanyin themselves would step in and tear them limb from limb.

The gang are forced to stay at Lion Camel Ridge a little longer than planned. The demon populace are surprisingly accepting, and even joyous by the Great Monk's situation! One "of their own" is going to make it up the ranks of Western Heaven, and has produced healthy cubs that not even the Buddha can deny the preciousness of!

Azure attempts to greet the kittens personally shortly after the birth, only to get three tiny swipes at his nose, followed by a much larger one from Tripitaka himself. He's more in love than he could ever be.

[sheluvv-gambino]

Hellooo!! I really love your fic "temporary perfection" it's so damn sad but I love it!! 😭😭😭

Can I request like a sequel to it?

Where he meets 1610 reader who is alive and healthy? If not that's ok too!! I still love your work and you!! 💖💖💖💖

Permanent Perfection.

A/N: I don't particularly like doing part 2's to my fics just because I'm not as consistent as other creators on here but this request was too cute to pass. I hope this was what you were invisioning anon!

pairings : e-42 miles morales x black fem!reader

summary : you came to him when he was at his lowest but now that you're here he's just as happy as he was before and he refuses to let you go this time.

warnings : death/funeral, unknown illness, implied suicide i guess?

Part 1

Miles thought he had nothing left in life.

No one could've prepared Miles for the complete emptiness he felt when you left.

He was just a shell of someone he used to be.

He lost his other half.

The only reason he was still breathing was so that his mother didn't have to go through another death.

It was hard walking through the hall's knowing that anytime someone would look in his direction they would instantly start to speak about her.

During his nightime activities he got more reckless, so reckless to the point Uncle Aaron had to take the suit away from him just so he could clean up his act.

--------------

You didn't know how you got to this new place.

It looked like your New York but it wasn't. It was littered with crime.

But one thing stood out the most. It had no Spiderman...

The New York that you came from had a Spiderman, in fact the Spiderman on you earth was your boyfriend. Miles...

He died trying to save his dad. Miguel had gottten to him to him first somehow and you were left to pick up the pieces.

You grieved but now you were just a shell of someone you used to be.

You lost your other half, you felt empty.

Everything became worse when you were sucked into a portal and was left in an unusual world.

It was like the universe was pulling you to someone else and they felt so familliar...

--------------

Miles stopped dead in his tracks when he saw...

her?

He dropped the bag of groceries that he was bringing back for his mother and swiftly walked over to girl and pulled her harshly into the dark alleyway.

"Who are you?" He exclaimed, frightening the girl even more.

"Miles? You're supposed to be dead! I am so confuesd right now." You breathed out.

"Y/N?!? How are you here, you're the one thats supposed to be dead." He lets go of you and starts to breathe heavy.

"You look like my Miles but your not. I don't think I'm in my own dimension."

"What are you talking about? Dimensions? My girlfriend died eight months ago."

"Yes, so did my Miles. Long story short there are different dimensions and I was obviously brought here for a reason that I dont know."

"Okay and how do I know that you're telling the truth, you dont even have the small mole above your nose that my Y/N had."

You take your thumb and rub away the makeup that you had to cover it up.

A few minutes had passed before Miles pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

"I missed you so much, It was like my other half was missing and now I'm whole again." He whispered whilst kissing your forehead and closing your eyes.

"I know Miles, I know."

--------------

Miles had snuck you in through his window after apologising to his mom for dropping the the groceries.

"You know the Miles on my earth never had his hair in braids, he was too tender headed for that." You laughed.

"Nah, it's probably because he couldn't pull it of like I can." He said whilst pulling you closer.

You both cuddled in comfortable silence before Miles spoke up.

"You know we getting you checked out at that the doctor's first thing." He murmured breathing into your neck.

"For what?"

"I just don't want to lose you again..."

In that moment Miles knew he had everything in life and so did you.

[fangswbenefits]

Sharing is Caring (II)

Summary: Things get complicated, but you find yourself sharing a bed with Miguel… once again. Too bad someone else is in the room.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Sharing one bed. Semi-public. Blue balls. Sexual tension. Mutual masturbation. Creampie. Implied cockwarming.

* ˚ ✦ Part 1. (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one, though)

You were fucked.

Extremely fucked.

Not only had the anomaly managed to slip through your fingers, effectively disabling the trackers scattered around, but you were also fucked, because now you were left to deal with the aftermath of a very intimate encounter with Miguel.

It was nearly five in the morning and the night was nowhere near being done. Fortunately, it had stopped raining, which helped with visibility and grip, and having Lyla assist you as in replacing the faulty sensors was also very much welcome.

“Sensor 24 up and running,” the AI’s sing-song voice announced, as the device bleeped green.

You leapt over the railing, shooting a string of web to the side of the hotel, so you could swing through the window.

As you landed with a clumsy thump, you noticed Miguel had already gotten back from his reconnaissance check.

He looked positively… pissed off.

Great.

“Lyla, call her,” her grumbled, checking his watch.

“Already did,” she announced, appearing by his shoulder. “Want me to run a diagnostics of the perimeter once again?”

“Do it in five minute intervals,” he said flatly. “The anomaly must be nearby.”

You removed your mask and considered sitting on the bed, but were soon reminded that not even thirty minutes ago, you were getting fucked by Miguel.

A shudder ran through your body.

“You okay?” he asked, his narrowed eyes on you.

You shrugged. “Sure.”

The problem with having impromptu sex was that now you were left to deal with the soreness between your legs, and the frustration of an orgasm that never came to be.

Did Miguel feel the same way?

Your eyes roamed his body, and you find yourself glaring at his-

“Hey! I need you to focus,” Miguel said with a snap of his fingers. “There’s still a chance we deal with it tonight.”

You were about to snap back when a loud distorted buzz filled the room, swirls of flashing lights nearly blinding you, as the inter-dimensional portal expanded quickly in pulsating waves.

Through came Jessica Drew, followed closely by Peter B. Parker.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel growled, pointing at Peter.

“What?” he asked, eyes widening in confusion.

Miguel wasn’t known to be a very patient man, and you reckoned his patience was now hanging by a thread. “I called for Jess. Not you.”

Jess let out an exasperated sigh. “Easy, Miguel. We were both on the same mission.”

He straightened up, but crossed his arms. “Right.”

“Care to explain why I had to leave to be here?” she went on, resting on hand on her swollen belly. “How did you lose track of the anomaly?”

He exchanged a brief look with you. “The sensors didn’t alert us in time.”

That was true.

“Weren’t you supposed to be monitoring, regardless?”

“We dozed off,” you chimed in. “Momentarily! Just for a while.”

Not really true…

Jess glanced at you, suspicion written all over face.

“Sleeping on the job,” she then chuckled, eyeing Miguel deviously. “Didn’t think you’d ever do that, Miguel.”

He narrowed his eyes menacingly. “We weren’t sleeping. We were just resting our eyes for a moment.”

A blatant lie.

“What’s that on your neck?” Peter suddenly asked with a worried look on his face.

Oh….

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the tender hickey spot. “Bug bite.”

“Allergic reaction,” Miguel blurted out at the same time.

Fuck.

You shot him a murderous look.

Jessica arched an eyebrow. “Which one is it?”

“An allergic reaction to a bug bite,” Miguel said with a shrug, growing visibly annoyed.

A wave of relief washed over you momentarily. That seemed plausible enough.

But…

“Oh, really?” she asked with a knowing smile. “What bug? A spid-”

But Miguel was already cutting her off. “We don’t have time for this!”

Peter walked to you, craning your neck to the side. “You should have it checked. It looks serious.”

Ah, Peter… ever the innocent.

“Jess, you stay with us,” Miguel says, dragging Peter away from you at once. “We need an extra pair of eyes.”

She frowned. “No. Peter stays. I need to get some sleep,” she said, patting her belly.

“No!” Miguel growled.

“Actually, I was thinking of heading back home,” Peter drawled out, rubbing the back of his head. “Mayday should be waking up soon.”

“And I’m pregnant,” Jess shot, holding her chin high.

Peter swallowed and fell silent. The deal was sealed.

“Lyla, any updates?”

The hologram popped up instantly. “No, boss.”

Jess glanced over at you one last time, before stepping into the portal once again. “You should really have that checked. Whatever bug did that seems… vicious,” she then slipped into the vortex, which vanished behind her.

You momentarily froze in place, feeling the dread of realisation hit you like a ton of bricks.

She knew.

“I’ll be right back,” Peter drawled out with a yawn and a stretch, disappearing into the bathroom.

The moment you heard rhe door click shut, you turned to Miguel.

“An allergic reaction to a bug bite?” you hissed.

He scowled deeply. “Because simply saying bug bite sounded ridiculous.”

“She didn’t believe it, regardless.”

Miguel was suddenly towering over you, his face twisted in annoyance. “Then why does it matter?”

“Because… you gave me a visible hickey!”

It was a silly thing to get upset about. There were worse things in life than having Miguel O’Hara marking you as a result of built up sexual tension.

But you didn’t want to give in.

“Got carried away,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…”

He cleared his throat. “But I have a problem.”

You looked up at him. “What problem?”

“Well…” he said, glancing at the bathroom door.

“Peter?”

“No!”

You clicked your tongue. “Then what?”

His placed both hands on his hips and glanced down.

Your eyes followed suit.

Oh.

Oh.

“What? Why are you… what?” you stuttered in disbelief at the sight of the outline of his hardened cock.

“Biology, remember?” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s not going away.”

You somehow managed to tear your eyes from the impressive bulge. “Go jerk off, then!”

He had you walk back until you hit the wall behind. “It won’t go away.”

Had you just given Miguel blue balls?

“How’s that my problem?” you huffed, staring intensely into his crimson eyes.

“This is all your fault.”

“Oh, really? I thought we were blaming Biology.”

Before Miguel could retort, the sudden squeak of a door being swung open, had you slipped past him.

Peter emerged, eyeing you both. “Oh, I see what this is.”

Miguel had to move strategically in order to hide his raging boner from him. “What do you mean?”

“I know what’s up with you two,” Peter said, with a playful grin. “All the whispering and whatnot.”

Great.

Were you two that transparent?

“Huh…”

Miguel had pursed his lips.

Peter paced closer to you, eyeing you with a knowing smile. “You’re deciding on Jessica’s birthday present, right?”

You blinked a few times and heard Miguel exhale nearby.

“Right? I knew it!” he threw his arms in the air as if he’d just won the lottery.

In truth, you were simply baffled at how innocent Peter could be. The immediate weight that was lifted off your shoulders was enough to draw a laugh from you.

“Sure!”

“Of course, Peter,” Miguel said, voice dripping with his trademark sarcasm. “We went on this mission, so we could go through birthday checklists.”

A layer of pride settled on Peter’s face. “Ah! You’re growing soft, Miguel.”

You winced at his poor choice of words.

“But fear not!” he said as if he was about to fight off the anomaly himself. “We’ll take turns watching. You two can get some rest and properly plan it out,” he then pinched his thumb and index finger together and dragged them across his lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Miguel didn’t budge at first, but you were all too grateful to stop this insane conversation altogether.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Of course,” he smiled widely, pacing to the open hotel window, leaping into the the sky night.

You shot Miguel one last look before slipping inside into the comfort of the bedsheets, welcoming the softness.

But you were sorely mistaken if you thought Miguel wouldn’t have followed you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or two.

You had turned to face the wall, hoping he’d take the hint, and leave you be.

But once you felt his erection pressing into your ass, you knew you were a goner.

There was something extremely empowering about having a man like Miguel be so needy and desperate.

He scooted closer until his breath fanned your ear. “Can you just…”

You scoffed, pride swelling inside you. “Go ask Biology to jerk you off.”

“Whawt?”

“You keep blaming it, so…”

Silence fell between you two.

His hand then came to grip your hip. “It’s you.”

“I didn’t catch that,” you said, feeling his thumb rubbing gently, as he pushed the top half of your suit increasingly higher.

He rolled his hips into you, letting out a shaky moan in your ear that had your skin raise with goosebumps.

You flipped onto your other side to fully face him, and Miguel immediately took your lips with his, kissing you hungrily.

His hand dragged the fabric all the way up until he managed to expose one breast, breaking the kiss only to move down to suck on your hardened nipple.

The thought that he might be too much vaguely crossed your mind. For the second time that night you were meeting a side of Miguel that you had never seen before.

A side you much preferred.

Your fingers dragged through his hair, silently praising him.

In no time, you watched his digital suit disintegrate, giving you full access to the beautifully sculped body underneath.

He gripped your wrist and lowered it until your fingers grazed his cock. Knowing fully well what he craved, you wrapped them around it, earning an immediate jerk of his hips.

“Miguel…” you moaned, letting him freely fuck your hand, spilling more and more precum.

He released your nipple and had his forehead resting on your shoulder, his hand on top of your, making sure you squeezed tighter and tighter.

It didn’t take long for your hand to be soaked with precum, making it easier for him to slide up and down.

You squeezed involuntarily and a gush of wetness spilled into your underwear, your body yearning for him to fill you up with his cock.

He moved his hips deliciously, and you focused on taking in the wet sounds that filled the room as well as his breathless grunts.

But such bliss was short-lived as you heard Peter bolting into the room with a swish of his web.

Well…

Miguel immediately stilled, letting go of your hand.

You didn’t let go of his cock, instead peeking over his shoulder only to find Peter rolling out a sleeping bag on the floor.

He then turned to face you, and your head immediately slumped against the pillow, eyes on Miguel’s.

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

Peter’s voice was but a whisper. “Your heart rate is accelerated.”

Ah… spider senses.

“Yeah… I’m just a bit tense… it’s fine,” you muttered, feeling Miguel’s cock twitch in your hand. “Go get some rest. I’ll take over.”

“Oh! Thank you,” he beamed. “Mayday has been giving us terrible nights, and I could use a few minutes.”

You watched as he fluffed out his pillow before settling down on his back with a yawn.

Miguel’s breathing has steadied momentarily and you eventually let go of him.

But he quickly got a hold of your wrist.

The implication of that action wasn’t exactly subtle and you widened your eyes.

“No,” you mouthed right away.

His crimson eyes had darkened and you spotted his fangs from behind his lips.

You shook your head vehemently.

This was a bad idea.

But as soon as Peter’s snores tore through the room, you felt your heart clench.

“Peter is right there… he will hear it!”

He pressed an urgent kiss to your forehead. “We’ll be quiet. I’ll help you be quiet,” he promised, pressing his cock further into your already soaked crotch.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and just as you were about to let out a low whimper, you felt his hand cover your mouth, effectively reigning it in.

“Quiet.”

The other travelled down painfully slowly, palm grazing your exposed breast briefly, before resting just above the waistline of your suit.

“You have to be quiet,” he warned in a barely audible tone.

You nodded and he lifted his hand from your lips.

“We shouldn’t…” you muttered under your breath.

But your words were not matching your actions, as you dragged your hand covered in precum across his hard chest, taking your time to gently rub his nipple with your thumb.

You thought Miguel had stopped breathing altogether, but soon realised he was merely attempting to hold back a moan.

His fingers quickly slipped past the the waistline, finding your clit and drawing small circles. You had to bite your lip hard to suppress a whimper, rolling your hips into him.

You found his cock again, gripping it desperately and giving him a few pumps that matched the tempo of his strokes.

The thrill of indulging in such experience even when someome else was in the room, and with the increased chances of being caught, merely added to the pleasure you were already feeling.

“You’re doing good,” Miguel praised you through a shaky breath. “So good…”

Impatience took over and you wiggled out of your bottom half of the suit, allowing you to grant him betterr acces, as hou parted your legs.

He immediately seized it and slipped one finger inside.

You had to clasp your hand over your mouth to keep from groaning, eyes fluttering shut.

His breath was on your ear again. “Can you take one more?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. A second finger immediately joined the first one, slinding inside effortlessly.

Feeling that you had managed to keep yourself under control, you dropped the hand covering your lips to grip his cock.

“And another one?”

You shook your head, fearing that would be too much. He pressed a kiss to your neck with a sigh, as he fucked your hand in a slow rhythm.

The knots of pleasure in your lower abdomen let you know that you were headed towards the precipice. You kept on riding his fingers relentlessly, your mind suddenly hazy from the feeling of being so full of him already.

“I’m close…” he mouthed, his breath shaky and cock twitching.

He had bared his fangs, and you thought you’d combust on the spot, realising he was truly overwhelmed with pleasure.

Finding your voice again, you whispered sensually, “Where do you want to cum?”

His eyed widened, pupils fully blown.

Your hips faltered briefly, grazing your clit across the palm of his hand. “Inside?”

He pressed his eyes shut and dug his fangs into his lower lip. “I won’t last.”

“I know,” you moaned, dragging thumb across his tip, feeling more droplets of warm precum coating your skin.

Peter suddenly let out a loud snore that made you jolt.

“Are you close?” Miguel asked.

“I’ll be with you inside me.”

You shifted on the mattress, and he removed his fingers from you at once, a wet sound filling the room.

Your body shuddered from the loss, but you soon felt his tip proding your entrance.

Before you could take another breath, he jerked his hips and slipped past your fold effortlessly.

His hand was on your mouth again, and this time you could taste yourself, as he struggled to keep your moans at a minimum.

It was also evident the sudden position was taking a toll on him. His steady pace was faltering with each passing second.

You soon entered the familiar point of no return, feeling an intense wave of pleasure tear from within you, blinding your vision with each pulse and contraction. It took all of your not to moan out loud even against his hand, the few shreds of sanity having a hold on you.

Miguel joined you, clearly not able to withstand the rhythmic squeezes around his cock as you reached your high.

Your caught a glimpse oh him biting the back of his other hand hard. He would for sure draw blood with his fangs, but you couldn’t even stay properly focused.

He bottomed out as deep as he could, spurts of cum coating your squeezing walls.

The two of you were struggling to breathe, shallow pants surrounding you.

“Oh my god! Butterfly!”

Peter…

You jerked away from Miguel in distress but with him still buried deep inside you, catching a glimpse of Peter sitting on the floor, breathing rapidly.

“Go back to sleep. It was just a dream,” you said with a smile.

Miguel pulled you into an embrace. “You did good.”

“Me? Not Biology?”

He scowled deeply.

“You can slide out now…” you whispered with a yawn.

Miguel didn’t move. “I want to stay a little longer likes this.”

Masterlist

[storyofmychoices]

The Princess of Parnassus and The Trophy Husband

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage]

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!OC), with mentions of Iliana

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow 2 (post finale)

Word Count: ~1,000

Rating/Warnings: General, no warnings (for maybe the first time ever)

Synopsis: Daenarya and Mal enjoy a much needed relaxing afternoon while contemplating what comes next.

Thank you to the absolutely amazing @cashweasel for this perfect art. I've been holding onto it for months now waiting for a story worthy of it. Once this idea popped into my head, it felt like the right time. (A second version of the art can be found below the story)

A moment of peace, 

finally.

That's what they deserved.

No more danger, no more life-altering choices, no more world-ending destruction. No more dealing with the aftermath.

The Realm had been saved, again—technically two realms this time.

More portals had been opened to allow for easier crossing between both realms. New guidance and orders were established. All was progressing toward a new future.

And, in a brief lull between it all, Iliana was born—their greatest gift. 

Daenarya drew in a deep breath, savoring the gentle caress of the breeze as it wove through her hair. She hadn't seen rest since... well, since before all of it. Before her daughter. Before the new agreement between sides. Before the war between the realms. Before she had been taken. Before the Dreadlord. Before she'd met her found family. Before Kade had been taken. Before Mal Volari strutted into her life. How long ago that seemed.

So much had changed. So much was still changing, but one thing that hadn't changed in quite a while was him and how she felt about him.

The afternoon sun bathed the field in its soft, golden embrace, illuminating the sea of windflowers gently swaying. Above them, the air filled with the melodic song of birds flitting amongst the grasses. Daenarya smiled at the beautiful symphony around her. 

Her nimble fingers wove delicate blooms together, putting the final touches on the crown she was crafting for Mal, mirroring his efforts for her.

"A crown fitting for a princess," Mal teased, showcasing his completed creation. It was a brilliant assortment of wildflower blossoms expertly entwined into an elegant crown. 

"I'm not sure about the princess part—" she shook her head playfully. "—but it's beautiful."

"May I?" He held it out to her. 

"Of course." She dipped her head forward, allowing him to place the beautiful display upon her head. A gentle smile spread across her features as she let her hand linger over his for a moment. 

"Shall I send word that you are ready to reclaim the Parnassus name and embrace your kingdom?" Mal inquired, his gaze fixed on her, his smile matching that of her own. 

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" Daenarya rolled her eyes. She ran her fingers through the silky grass beside her, her thoughts wandering for a moment. "We don't even know how directly I'm related. I'm sure there are many other descendants equally entitled by blood, if not more so."

"None of them are as qualified though," Mal interrupted. "Kit, you've saved the damn realm, twice, and ensured a truce between Light and Shadows. Gods know if anyone deserved it, it'd be you."

She reached over, tracing the lines of his jaw before cradling his face. "I'm not starting a monarchy, Mal." 

He pouted beneath her tender touch. "You're really going to take this from me?"

She couldn't stifle her laughter. "Take what from you?"

"My chance to be a trophy husband!" He declared proudly with a mischievous grin. "You're letting all of this go to waste." He gestured over his particularly exquisite features. 

"Husband?" Her brow piqued at the word.

"I just mean—" His confidence faltered a moment, his fingers running sheepishly through his long hair. "You're right, this isn't about me... it's about you and if you'll use Parnassus as your surname now that you know about it, kingdom or not."

"I don't think it's right for me." Her thoughtful eyes met his, contemplating the weight of such a decision. "I've never had a last name before... I wasn't important enough to need one. I'm just Daenarya of Riverbend."

"You're so much more than that," Mal marveled. "You might be the most important person in all the realms."

"Might be?" She teased.

"Well, I like to think I helped a little," Mal insisted. "Even Elfboy did something, but don't tell him I said that."

"What about for you?"

"What about me?"

"How important am I?"

"Fishing for a compliment?" His gaze narrowed on her.

She chewed her lower lip, shrugging lightly, "mayyybeee."

He chuckled softly, "Kit... Daenarya, you're the most important person to me. I never dreamed I could find someone like you. Someone who—" He shook his head, his smile spreading wide. "Someone who I'd gladly risk my life for, over and over again, with no promise of treasure or reward, except that of keeping you safe and experiencing all life has to offer with you." 

Daenarya leaned forward, quieting his words with a kiss. "I love you, Mal Volari."

"I love you so damn much…Daenarya of Riverbend, or whatever name you choose," he offered as she rested her forehead against his, savoring their closeness.

"I know," she whispered. "So…I might have an idea for a last name."

"Really?" He pulled back slightly, curious to hear what she was thinking. 

A glint of amusement danced in her eyes. "What about…Volari?"

Mal's brow furrowed for a moment, confusion flickering across his features.

"I thought we might share it, you and I." Daenarya watched him closely, waiting for him to understand. “Iliana, too.”

Realization dawned upon Mal as her words sank in. "Are you proposing to me?"

"So what if I am?" 

"Shouldn't I be the one proposing?" Mal teased lightly, though his heart pounded with anticipation.

Daenarya's laughter echoed across the serene landscape. "No, I think this is right for us."

"I don't know, Kit," he attempted to feign indecision, his fingers stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I always imagined when I got proposed to it would be this big grand gesture, and there would be a massive diamond involved." 

"No diamond, Mal the Magnificent, but perhaps I can offer you another token of my appreciation." Daenarya shifted beside him, holding out the flower crown she had created for him. "Mal Volari, the Magnificent one, would you do me the honor of becoming my trophy husband, kingdom or no kingdom?"

He couldn't stop his joyous laughter. "With an offer that good, how could I say no?" 

Daenarya no sooner placed the crown on his head than he pulled her into his arms, showering her with all the love and affection she deserved. There was no one he would rather spend forever with than her—Daenarya of Riverbend, soon to be Daenarya Volari. (But had she asked, he'd be Mal of Riverbend or whatever name she chose because being with her was the only constant he ever needed.)

I had this silly little idea and I hope you enjoy it. I figured since Mal is struggling to propose to Daenarya in my "Prime" aka book one universe, I thought it would be Daenarya proposing in this one.

Oh, and one more thing before you go.... the lovely Lou was amazing enough to give me 2 versions of this art. I initially asked for Short Haired Mal since Book Two would be introducing him, but I got cold feet and wanted my long-haired Mal, too, so Lou allowed me both versions. Though, if ever there was a good looking short haired Mal this is the one 😍

[kaiju-art-for-the-heart]

An Heir to the Throne: The Distraction pt.1

Chapter 4.5

Slowly but surely, the days crawled by for the king and queen. Week after week Godzilla waited for what felt like an eternity, watching as Mothra finally entered the laying period (Its only been 6 weeks.) Marking the 7th week, Monarch officially recorder this as being three times longer than ever before, comparable to the gestation of a lizard in regards to timing. Within these weeks, Godzilla's behavior had changed once again. Instead of his usual dine and dash below the water, he has been monitored collecting large amounts of fruits and vegetation. Once he has returned to his territory, the vegetation is delivered directly to Mothra. Though advised to keep away, Monarch bases stationed close to his usual scavenging areas have began leaving 'sacrifices' of rejected fruits and vegetables to assist in his difficult mission. They may not have been the same amount that he could collect, but it was definitely a significant aid in cutting his hunting time in half. 

Though the seasons had been changing, the cozy island the couple chose to call home still experienced the same blinding sun most days. On a very particularly hot day, Godzilla nestled closely to his queen, napping comfortably in the rays of the scorching sun. Mothra on the other hand was much more content napping beneath his cooling shadow. Along with the passing of time came the preparation of the nest. A large portion had been turned into an incubator, many many wads of silk and moth fluff swirled into the perfect egg cradle. As both kaiju slept, a small crab sat opposite of them towards the mouth of the nest. Its large beady black eyes focused and unfocused constantly to make sure no spot was missed. Though unassuming on the outside, the crab was truthfully a neatly placed spy camera. Monarch engineers applauded themselves constantly, as it seemed the king and queen paid no attention to it whatsoever. Though in reality, Godzilla knew it was fake the moment it washed onto shore. Each piece of metal the humans send out had a particular smell. So no matter how fancily disguised it was, it could easily be sniffed out. Why did he let it slide you may ask? Mothra found it incredibly amusing. That, along with the small donations of food for his queen, Godzilla allowed them to have their fun for the time being.

Within a split moment, Godzilla's eyes snap open. The ground beneath him rumbles as the titan rises angrily out of his slumber. Mothra shoots up as well, though a bit wobbly as she was still adjusting to the weight of her bottom half.  "Did you feel it too?" Godzilla growled lowly, getting a nod from her. Something had just burst through one of the Hollow Earth portals, and the presence was growing larger by the minute.  Before Mothra could speak, Godzilla had already entered battle mode. He knew what he had to do, so might as well not waste any time  doing it. "I will be back my dear. Stay here." he commanded her, turning away to leave. "Wait!" she called out to him, catching his attention and stopping him in his tracks instantly. She knew there was no persuading to let her tag along, but everything inside her was raging. Begging to continue to fight alongside her King. 

After thinking for a moment, Mothra stood up to meet him halfway, crawling into his arms to form a tender embrace. The rough scaly exterior of Godzilla's skin and dorsal plates began to glow a gentle florescent blue, to which Mothra's elegant wings matched accordingly. As their bioluminescence surrounded them, the energy phased from cool blue, to purple, to the powerful new and improved hot pink. With their pulses now rhythmically matching, Mothra's previous blue markings shifted to match the same pink as Godzilla. 

"Promise to stay safe.. and maybe try and talk it out if possible?" she sighed, getting a final nuzzle from Godzilla. "I'll try, but no guarantee's." he chuckled, gently placing her back into the comforting cradle of her self-made nursery. With the change in atmosphere, Godzilla thought of the possibility of not returning home. Falling to the hands of whatever may have pulled itself from that damn portal. No matter how distracting, it wasn't enough to deter him. As he looked back to her one last time, he knew that no matter what happened. It would all be ok in the end. Sinking into the cool waters of the ocean, he set his mind back to dealing with the task at hand. 

The small spy crab swiveled between the two as Monarch headquarters shifted into over drive. At first, they deducted this to be apart of the mating process, but after the reports started to flood in, they realized that this was instead an uncertain good-bye. A large kaiju was currently causing mayhem to a city in Peru, meaning Godzilla was already on the move to it. Without a moment of hesitation, a barrage of fighter jets had already started trailing behind him. The familiar growl of intimidation could be heard bubbling from the dark of the ocean as the same pink aura lit up around him. 

As Godzilla swam through the endless currents, his rage quickly built up with every passing thought. Did this seriously have to happen now? He should be waiting by his queens side, not running to find an issue that will last all of 5 minutes.  Along with that, the pesky humans have already caught wind of the situation. No matter to him, the plans were to deal with it as efficiently as possible, with or without them. It did not take long before they rapidly approached the shoreline, another deep pulse of imbalance interrupted his thoughts. This time, it was much more familiar than before. His sharply peaked dorsal plates breached the surface of the water like a shark hunting its pray, their strong atomic pulses vibrated furiously. To the surprise of no one, Godzilla had already reached shore. The tremors associated with his approach was enough to catch the attention of anyone. Piercing the bustling sounds of chaos and distress came Godzilla's intimidating alpha roar. His eyes scanned the area for the disturbance, watching as many civilians beneath him scurried for cover.  

It did not take long for the King to locate the perpetrating portal either, obvious signs of struggle appeared to lead right into the city. Rolling his eyes, Godzilla followed the small mess like a blood trail, noting the creature he was looking for was not as big as it seemed to be. Before he knew it, the small creature was still leaving behind a path of destruction. A young freshly hatched spider Kaiju was caught kicking in building windows and crushing any and everything underneath. For a moment, all Godzilla could do was stare at the youngling. Why would something like this breach to the surface alone? Surely it was just lost on its way to finding its mother down below. Before he moved, the words of Mothra echoed in his mind loudly. Surely this tiny creature wasn't going to be a real issue, so there was no need to get violent. With another short growl, the small spider turned its attention towards Godzilla with a growl of its own. Unfazed, Godzilla watched the baby scurry up to his leg, attempting to pierce his layered scales with its tiny dull jaws. Being its first time in the world, it had no idea what kind of trouble it was attempting to get into.  

With an annoyed sigh, Godzilla plucked the small hatchling up from the ground before carrying it back to the already dissipating portal. Its angry clicks and squeals of defiance did nothing as Godzilla dropped it back in, watching it instantly disappear into a thin white mist. "How strange.." he grumbled to himself, stepping away from the portal as he continued to check his surroundings. "Besides an infant wandering around, I could have sworn I felt.." he trailed off, stewing in his thoughts before beginning his return to the ocean. Before he could even reach the sand, another deep disturbance pulsed from the portal, catching Godzilla's attention once again as a large ape-like hand burst through. "No.." he growled to himself, watching as Kong jumped out of the portal with the same baby spider that Godzilla had just thrown back in.

"Kong." Godzilla growled, watching as the titan turned to him with a startled jump. "G-Godzilla?! You made it here already?" he sighed, relief replacing his previous nervous demeaner. "What are you doing here? What's with the-" "We don't have much time!" Kong interrupted, wincing at Godzilla's offended scowl. "Listen, this was no accident. I need a little help before they break through!" This causes Godzilla to take a step back, his features dulling to a more confused brow raise. "What are you talking about?" he queried, watching Kong turn to answer. Before he can say, a bright light blasted from the portal as many many groups of baby spiders burst through. Several pairs of tiny spider legs began scurrying all over the two kings, a guttural cry of surprise coming from them both. It was going to be a long day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at home, Mothra had been sitting patiently while waiting for the return of her King. Though she was quite sure he would be returning, she couldn't help but feel an unshakable dread. What would she be afraid of? This was Godzilla, the most resilient and battle hardened lizard in the world. "Maybe its not him I'm worried about.. but something else." she assured herself, readjusting for the seventh time in the last hour. The growing discomfort she felt was peaking today, though she pushed it aside to stay connected with the well-being of Godzilla. Though, after another rough shift, a sharp pressure nearly took the wind from Mothra. After a moment of stunned silence, she shifted once more to confirm her suspicions. The same sharp pressure stung once more, causing her to crumble into the folds of the nursery. Her initial reaction was that of pure joy and excitement, it was happening finally! 

The intense feelings of happiness soon died down after the realization of having to do it alone sets in. "Oh my.. now is really a bad time.." she winced, gasping slightly at the unfamiliar pain. Thinking about it, she was totally ignoring all the previous signs. The dread was not for Godzilla's safety, but that of her own. "Please no.. not without Gojira.." she whined, backing herself deeper into the silky wraps of the egg cradle. She was no beginner to laying, there was never an issue when it came to her own eggs. Though this time, its seeming to be different. Since this egg was a bit larger, her body had to accommodate for its size. Would this be enough to harm her? If she was, what would happen? After a moment, the queen took a deep breath in, then out. "Panicking gets us nowhere.." she clicks calmly, soothing her tension down enough to think clearly again. Though she didn't want to interrupt, she had no choice but to inform Godzilla of what he may be expecting on the way home. Hopefully he was receptive enough to hear her messages. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gloved hand crashes down recklessly into a pool of baby spiders, throwing them in every direction. "So you're telling me.. a Kumunga laid eggs near a portal and you idiots are just now getting to them? AFTER they hatch??" Godzilla snarls, his tail whipping around and crushing a gaggle of spiders. Kong clatters in frustration, excessively brushing the small vermin off his face and shoulders. "We TRIED to get them before they hatched! There was more than one bundle!" he retorted, frustration engulfing both titans quickly. At this, Godzilla knew what had to be done. As crucial as it was to maintain his promise with Mothra, he knew there was no talking his way out of this situation. While the tip of his tail began to light up, Godzilla's eyes and scaly skin charged up as well. The ground beneath him began to rumble as the titan released a final warning cry. As the luminous pink radiation reached its peak, Godzilla released his atomic breath, frying each creature around him within an instant. Attempting to stay out of his way, Kong continued to crush the leftovers as entrails splat all over his hands and arms.  Though it was disgusting, he found immense satisfaction in being able to release his previous frustration. Even with the use of Godzilla's powerful blast, it seemed as though the spiders were relentless. "I don't have time for this.." Godzilla huffed, the shimmering energy around him pulsing brightly as he charged up another powerful attack. This time, Godzilla would not be holding back. 

"You may want to get out of the way." he warned Kong, his voice strained as he attempted to keep concentration. One look at Godzilla and Kong instantly jumped to safety,  watching from a distance as he produced a mesmerizing Atomic pulse. The blast was so powerful it eviscerated everything within its path, turning the unsuspecting spider horde into crispy fried barbeque. Safe to say, whatever little resistance they put up was no match to Godzilla's strategic planning. As the smoke and ash cleared, Godzilla looked around to find nothing more than char scattered around them. 

After a moment, Kong rejoined Godzilla, looking around the semi-destroyed buildings and piles of ash. "Well, that was easier than expected." Kong chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the newly formed spider bites on the back of his neck. Godzilla sighed tiredly in response, looking to Kong with a disapproving grumble. "Go back home, monkey. And keep your mess away from my territory. I have better things to do than sit around and play bug catcher." Godzilla snorted, getting a slight eye roll from him. The two nod to each other before going their separate ways. The king watched Kong jump back through the portal before turning away to begin another trek back home. 'Finally, peace and quiet. And just enough time to grab lunc-' Godzilla thought at first, stopping once again to turn around and seeing Kong clawing his way back out the portal. "GOJIRA!! THEY'RE COMING!!" Kong screeched, an annoyed roar rumbling from the king. What could he possibly be talking about now? 

As Godzilla made his way back over to Kong, he watched unamused while he struggled to get up. What was that stupid ape even doing? Without anymore hesitation, Godzilla grabbed Kong's arm and yanked him to his feet, annoyed that this was dragging on longer than expected. The moment he came through, another intense rumble shook the ground beneath them. "What is it?" Godzilla growled, his dorsal plates lighting up once again as a long spider leg breached to the surface. "Its the mother.." Kong breathed, jumping backwards as they watched the large Kaiju pull herself to freedom. Underneath her followed another couple hundred baby spiders, a sight straight from the depths of a nightmare.  

Godzilla screeches towards the mother as Kong backs him up, twirling his axe in his hand. Breaching through his many thoughts, a gentle voice seemed to clear his mind as she spoke. 'My love..' Mothra's clairvoyance called to him. Godzilla stood still, listening intently as she explained her current situation, and her fear of what may happen if he were not present. The tension and pain in her voice made Godzilla react physically, twitching his claws at the thought of not being there for his queen. Out of everyone, she needed him the most and yet, here he was spending his valuable time fighting an over grown garden pest whos angry she chose a piss poor place to lay her own eggs. With another intense roar, Godzilla took a stance. He was not going to miss his offspring's first lay, especially not to this. "Lets get this over with" he turned to Kong, both nodding in agreement before lunging full throttle into battle.

Sorry this took so long. Other than this being a before 2-parter, I had some real life stuff and my Bday on the 6th! Stay tuned for chapter 5

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Stronger together

---

<<Part 1

Part 2 to 'Don't make me choose'

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x reader

Word count: 800

Tags: @itzmeme @miatjie @juneonhoth

---

You slumped against a broken metal shelter on some roof. The world glowing around you with a goulish green hue as faint sirens haunted the far distance. Earth-42 wasn’t paradise, it was the opposite, without a guardian in this realm, crime was raging and rampant.

But this was where you tracked Miles to last before the little red dot that kept tab on him faded. Now you were stranded, not sure of how any of this could help in preventing what was to come. Instead you were hungry, tired, soaked wet by the rain and there was no other alternative to survive here. The battle within your mind was that, you only knew one number by heart.

Tapping the device in your hands as you thought through the outcome, you took the jump, to make the call and waited as it beeped searching for a connection. You prepared your mind in that moment, for the possibility that he wasn’t going to pick up or that he would deem you deserved this to confidently abandon you here as a form of punishment.

Two beeps in, the line was active, his voice cracking through as he called your name repeatedly, his tone soaked with worry.

“Can you hear me?”, the line stabilized and you held the device close to you, as though it was an extension of him.

“Are you al-alright?”, the connection was a bit sketchy as he asked you but before you could respond,

“Yes.”, you said desperately.

“Are you hurt?”, he bombarded you with questions, without waiting to hear your reply and it only made it more clearer that he had been trying to search for you without a clue as to where you had vanished. In the state you were in, it cut loose within you everything you had held back, when you were out here thinking of the worst, he was there desperate to get you back.

“Where are you?”, he continued.

“I’m sorry.”, was all that you could utter before you broke down into sobs.

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I was foolish.”, you rambled only to hear silence from the other end.

“Hey.”, he interrupted you, his voice tender and soft.

“I was at fault too.”, he sighed.

“I lost sight of us and our pledge to carry the responsibility of being a hero, succumbing to the fear of the past “, he explained, not a hint of anger in his voice.

“Where are you?”, he asked again.

“I’ll come get you.”, he said it with a sweetness that you realized when you were longing to get back home, you were just wanting to get back to him.

“Earth-42.”, you answered and there was a pique in interest as he mumbled.

“Earth-42? How did you track him there?”, he asked, you could practically hear the gears turn in his head as he tried to connect everything together.

“The transporter maps us to our universe based on our spider bite.”, you began to explain but he jumped in following your train of thought.

“and he was bit by an anomaly which in turns masks his genetic makeup when scanned.”, he finished your sentence and you couldn’t help but smile. He understood the way you worked and that could not be replaced with anyone else.

“Clever as always.”, he remarked but you could sense the smile with which he said it.

“My power is running down and I don’t know how long I can stay put here, this world is –

The whizz of the dimension portal startled you as it opened near where you were and in the pouring rain your heart skipped a beat as you saw his silhouette step out, his head moving from side to side as he scouted for you.

He called for you and you didn’t wait, springing up from where you hid to run to him.

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tight that he huffed bracing your impact. But the moment he felt your warmth, he held you close, placing his cheek on the top of your head, not worried about the rain or anything else.

“Te extrañé.”, he spoke into your ear.

“You're not angry with me?”, you mumbled into his chest to hear the soft reverb of his laugh.

“We’ve got to help him, Miguel.”, you said slowly and he nodded taking in the state of the world around, he brushed away the strands of hair that stuck to your face. He was making it clear now, that you ranked higher than those worries.

“I can’t stay mad at you for long.”, he tilted your chin up to see him and when your eyes locked, you knew that wherever you stood, with him, it was paradise. Even on earth-42.

“We’ll figure it out together.”, he gave you a knowing smile.

“Like we always do.”, he held your gaze, as if that was the core rule his universe operated on.

You were certain you would find a way to save Miles’s father, because when you and Miguel stood together, nothing could stand in your way.

“Now let’s go home.”, his hand slipped to yours and you wrapped your fingers around his.

[nowoyas]

the past half hour wasn't real - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

M.list - Read on Ao3

A/N: continuing the trend of using tfb lyrics whenever I don't know how to title things. almost didn't post this one and definitely didn't edit this one but it's cheaper than acquiring a therapist <3

Summary: Miguel accidentally startles you in exactly the wrong way. Your behavior may require an explanation.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, panic attacks, past sexual assault

Word count: ~2700

You've been hurt before. Past lovers and your own stupidity mostly, if we're looking at number instances alone. But that's not what I'm talking about.

It isn't something you talk about. Once, you'd gotten fed up with your own self-destructive coping mechanisms, reached out, and booked an appointment with a therapist.

The day came, and you freaked out, canceled, and told yourself you'd never try to speak about what happened again.

And really, that wasn't a problem. You dealt with it how any normal person would: you closed off. You became Only The Employee or Only The Hero and occasionally let work acquaintances talk you into 1-3 dates with a guy who you would inevitably break it off with because you have numbed yourself out to that shit. Once or twice, you managed relationships longer. Those, too, fell apart.

Granted, at first, you tried not to. You tried to be daring and open and honest with partners. You tried to tell them: you had been hurt before. You might be a little cagey from time to time, you might have limits that don't make sense, but it is only because you have been hurt and you will spend the rest of your life navigating it.

That didn't work.

It didn't work because instead they saw you as cracked and damaged, or else extraordinarily fragile, and they would never touch you until, eventually, they moved on, and you would return to being Only the Employee and Only the Hero.

That was until you met Miguel and the others.

Hundreds and hundreds of people—all just like each other and, to a lesser degree, just like you. Spider-mutated heroes from different dimensions, working together to keep the multiverse in one coherent-incoherent piece. And Miguel, at the center of it all, Atlas holding up the world on his shoulders.

Miguel, who re-invigorated your life and, whether he realized it or not, yanked you violently out of depression.

Miguel, who, by taking you back through that portal with him and the others, allowed you to realize that while you were frequently Only The Hero, you were not The Only Hero.

Miguel, who called you in to help with an anomaly and found you emotionally rotting in your suit and didn't force you to drag yourself out anyway.

Miguel, who quietly sent a pair of Spiders to your dimension for a little bit so you could ride the waves of the anniversary of the day That Man Hurt You until they finally left you crashed on the shore long enough to stand again.

It was little wonder that you fell head over heels for him. It was rare that he let others see the humanity in him long enough to be registered, but he let you see enough that there was never any hope for you to begin with.

And that, my friend, is exactly the fucking problem.

Because you have been hurt before.

Maybe you did careen into a relationship of sorts with him—you're pretty sure you're exclusive, at least, given how little capacity either of you seem to have for entertaining the idea where even one person is concerned, and you spend time together and he lets you see himself a way that no one else ever sees him: human, tender, kind. Of course there is kindness in his actions day-to-day, but it's always masked, beneath his unmasked, flat tone and the seemingly cold logic present.

You know he has not been completely vulnerable with you. This is okay, because it's not as if you've been vulnerable with him.

You have pushed yourself through, because you love him. You have let him kiss you, because you love him. You have given him affection until he breaks because he needed it and you love him.

You have not had sex with him.

And oh, you've tried. You've told yourself a million times—he is not Him, he is nothing like Him, he would never hurt you the way He hurt you. These are all true statements. Factually, there is not a single shred of doubt to be had in these points.

Except trauma does not care about what is true now. It is determined to remind you, again and again, that You Have Been Hurt Before. You, conversely, are determined to tell capital-T Trauma to suck your fucking dick about it and fuck off so you can live a normal, well-adjusted life as a superhero dating an alternate-dimension superhero.

So you push yourself. You do not initiate, but you don't run away, because for once in your life you have enough love to stay, and anyways if you ran, he would chase you, and you wouldn't be able to keep it together.

It is late, and there has been a lull in anomalies to contend with lately, and you have just spent a wonderful day with Miguel. You don't track time like normal people do, so you can't say how long you've been together, just that it's been a long enough time that it's not really unfounded when you both crash at your apartment and you invite him to spend the night.

You have unspoken boundaries that he has effortlessly sensed and not once attempted to cross, so tonight, you don't expect him to walk up behind you sitting on the edge of your bed and wrap tender arms around your waist or press a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

To be fair, he does not expect you to freeze.

He does not expect you to jolt away, to shove him with all your force, for whimpering pleas to pass your lips between breaths that turn to gasps, for you to settle on the floor seven feet away and grab harshly at your hair just to find some way to ground yourself.

The reactions are automatic. They have to be, because it is no longer you in your body in the room with him. It is memories, and it is fear, and if you could bring yourself to do anything beyond pulling your hair and hyperventilating, you'd be halfway out the window by now, whether it was open or not.

He's in front of you in a second, eyes searching, almost wounded, and the little part of you that's still in your head wants to apologize, to tell him it's not his fault, fucking hell this is Miguel he'll never—

But you can't. All you can think of is that night, of pleading nos, of the pain of it all and waking up and just crying for hours.

"Tell me what I did wrong, cariño, and I will never do it again. Please."

His voice is grounding. He is stricken, to see you this way. He is careful not to touch you, not to move too fast until you finally manage to worm a hand out of your hair to find something to claw at, to find a source of pain to bring you back down to Earth (667, in your case), and then he is lightning as he pulls your hands away from yourself.

"[name]. I need you to look at me and see me. Can you do that?"

You can do that.

You meet his eyes, focus as hard as you can on the place where his hands hold yours, the look in his eyes—calculating beyond the hurt. He's trying to figure you out.

He is counting, and it takes little time for you to understand that you are to follow the numbers with your breaths. You've played this game before. You try your best to match him, and he is encouraging and kind even when your attempts to just take a slow breath are interspersed with involuntary inhales and hiccups.

The pads of his thumbs, calloused and rough, smooths over the back of your hands in little circles, and when you struggle to breathe and struggle to listen, they, too, bring you back down. Each pass of his thumb feels like a confession of things you have not yet said, despite the time:

Swipe. I love you. Swipe. I love you. Swipe. I love you.

Time moves weirdly coming down from panic attacks, and so it is impossible to say how long it takes you to come back down enough to speak, how long he spends counting and rubbing his thumbs into your hands, how long you spend expending every effort just to breathe correctly.

When at last you can breathe and his counting stops, he does not let go of your hands. They are a reminder he is here. They are a reminder you are loved.

"I'm sorry" are the first words out of your mouth when you can think to say them, although the Everything took quite a bit out of you and you don't have many more words to give right now. You had been lucky so far; you stayed masked in front of everyone. Not your Spider mask, but the other mask, the one you never let down around others. No one suspected you to be Different before this, and now you're stuck wordless and feeling remarkably alone.

Except, hey, isn't Miguel just like you? Isn't that part of why you love him so?

He asks in low tones if he can carry you somewhere more comfortable than the floor. You nod, and he carries you to the couch, puts on the TV. He lets you be the one to fuck with the remote, seemingly understanding without you telling him that you do not have the words to direct him yourself right now. You put on something non-offensive and easy, and when he gets up with gentle words informing you that he's going to get something from the kitchen, you cling to him wordlessly.

A rumble of a laugh soothes you. "I'm just getting you something to drink."

You shoot him pleading eyes. Stay. Please stay.

"You need to drink water. I can carry you, if you don't want to be alone right now."

You unwind, offer him the tiniest of nods. He lifts you, again with ease, and carries you one-armed into your kitchen so he can get you a glass of water.

It is unbearable, how clingy you've become in such a short time. It is pathetic, how he sets you down with your glass of water and sits beside you and you immediately press into his side. He may have been the danger for a moment in your traitorous mind, but now, direct contact with him is the absolute safest place to be. He is an amazing sport for simply allowing it.

When at last you have it in you to drag words up to the surface, you're immediately apologizing all over again, and he is meeting each one with a gentle refusal.

"I don't need an apology from you. I just need to know what you need from me so that I never set you off that way again."

Your face falls, and you consider the sentence you need to pull out of yourself.

Honesty. That's important.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry."

He arches a brow. He does not buy it and does not appreciate your continued apologies.

"...I haven't always been strong enough to take care of myself. Someone I trusted a lot..." The words die in your throat. Even now, after everything, you still can't bring yourself to say them.

As it turns out, you don't need to. It is rare that Miguel emotes in a way others completely understand, beyond angry and stern, but you know heartbreak when you see it. "Oh, cariño..."

“I just got scared,” you whisper finally.

He is holding you, then, gentle and firm all at once. “You should have told me.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid to touch me.”

Now that it’s out, that fear strikes you to your core.

Miguel, who would never want to hurt you.

Who now has reason to fear that he’ll hurt you no matter what he does.

“I won’t ask you to go into detail. But if we ever run into him, I can’t be held accountable for what I’ll do.”

A bitter scoff. You rest your head against his chest, let the sound of his heartbeat soothe you. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Your arms wind around his midsection, and you gradually slide onto his lap. “Please don’t let this change how you think of me.”

“What do I have to do so that you never get the idea I might think less of you over something like this ever again?”

You shudder with the sob that rises at that, but you refuse to let yourself cry more tonight. “It isn’t that I thought you’d see me as less. It’s just… I managed to tell someone once. About what happened to me. And he pulled away. He wouldn’t touch me. Wouldn’t even look at me.”

“You’re afraid I would leave you to keep you safe.”

“Mm.” You’re glad for the position the pair of you have wound up in. You couldn’t stand to see his face right now. “I didn’t—don’t—want to lose you. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that we never had a sex life because I let you see this part of me and you decided it was better for me.”

He is silent. That is the scariest part—he is silent.

“I know you’re always putting others above you. I know you’re trying to protect all of everyone in everything you do. I realize it’s selfish to ask you not to protect me. But it is goddamn torture to be put in a little glass case to be looked at and never loved because everyone’s afraid to hurt me, and it makes it all the worse, and I am so, so tired of letting him haunt the rest of my life. Can I please be selfish?”

“It’ll be difficult,” he replies, and your heart drops. You’re already moving to untangle yourself from him when he continues: “But if you’ll talk to me, and we discuss your boundaries, and you tell me the nanosecond something feels wrong to you…”

He isn’t leaving.

He isn’t pulling away.

You sit, frozen, on his lap, and search his face with wide eyes, but there’s no hint of deception. Not that you were ever the Expressions Reader, but still. You like to think you’re learning his, and you don’t see deception there.

“I love you,” you say, and that’s not the words you intended to say, not for the first time like this. “Please don’t ever sneak up from me behind like that again. Make noise. I don’t care what noise.”

It is his turn to be stunned, and for good reason, because you’re not sure anyone expected you to drop the “I love you” tonight. For a second, you think that will turn out to be the final nail in the coffin, but then he’s peppering your face in kisses, and you flush under the attention.

He isn’t letting you kiss him back or escape the assault, and you find yourself dissolving into laughter when he holds your face still to better aim his affections. At last, when you’re reduced to a giggling mess in his arms, he grants you reprieve so he can speak.

“I promise, that’ll never happen again. I love you, too.”

You are exhausted and drained, but sitting here with him, there is warmth, and light, and hope. Tomorrow, he will return to HQ, and you will remain in this dimension to make your rounds and keep your lights on. Someday, he will tell you about the pains he carries, and on another Someday, you may give him details about yours. But it is tonight, and tonight, you will settle into one another, murmur quietly a conversation about limits and love and how to move forward.

One thing you should know: although he is scared, he will never pull away because of this. You are safe in that.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @yohoe-hoe