#Early Bird kit

[inkskinned]

you have to be sexy but you have to be sexy in a way that's kind of bloody. you learn this early because you are wearing a ruffled skirt and the snow around your ankles kicks little sand particles against your calves. baby's first catcall. welcome to sexiness! welcome to the eyesore of your own body!

you have to be sexy like high heels. like sculpted eyebrows. like lean stomach and highly treated hair. you have to be sexy like youth is sexy, which means you have to be sexy like boxtox and plastic. a 30 year old can be sexy but she's not going to be bloody, and they like the bloodiness of it. a 30 year old is sexy when she is a whiskey glass and a wooden desk.

but you need to be sexy like an open mouth. you need to be sexy like a bitten apple. like plucked skin and white-knuckling the waxing kit.

so sex is a performance, not an enjoyment. for a while, you just assumed everyone else was also in on the joke - nobody actually likes sex that much, right? like, some men probably do, but why would you? it is like a gender - your gender is sexy. your gender is the performance of sex. you are thigh highs and garter belts. which, to be fair, do make you feel sexy.

part of what does make sex good is that you can tell that other people want you, which means the performance of sexiness is both bloody and wanted, which is good, which means you are winning at having a body. being wanted is the prize. being wanted is the thing you are searching for, not hope. you think you are looking for a soft grave in easy loam, but that is bloody but not sexy. to be sexy you must be bloody like a red open sign. bloody like a handprint. this will make you wanted.

any wanted or unwanted body is subject to supply and demand, which is to say that the more demand, the better you are valued. you must be highly demanded to be valued. this is stated in matter-of-fact by some men. sometimes it is a priest that says it, and sometimes it is a podcaster, and sometimes it is the 45th president of the united states of america.

(if you do not have any experience with being told your value, i want you to grab the nearest bird to you and i want you to crush it into a thin paste in your hand. spit into the center, and then hold your fingers closed tight around it for days and days, long after the rot has set in. feel bones itch inside of your fist. this is only a fraction of what it actually feels like, but it will suffice for a moment.)

good sex feels like you have earned their desperation. you have earned your own value. for a while you operated under the understanding that everyone knew about the power structure, even him. that their desire to take you - the violence of it - means that you must desire to be caught. little prince, guardian fox - you would rather have cut your own arm off. you liked the secret, cunning little voice you keep tucked into a box. you think you are fucking me. i am not even here right now. you are fucking what i conned you into perceiving. this is a painting, not a person. dominion over the body before all things.

so you bend your body like a wheat shaft and learn the steps so perfectly that it almost seems graceful. (if you do not have experience faking your own connection to your body and sexuality, cut each of your articles of clothing just a little bit incorrectly. pour fishbones into each of your meals. this way, you will experience the average noon on a tuesday.)

you have to be sexy like light spilled over a desk, but not desperate. not a noose. you can't be sexy like an electric guitar, you are the acoustic. you have to be on top of the bull but you can't have control over the animal.

okay, okay. the little rabbit of your heart went to sleep so long ago that winter has ravaged your concept of the human soul. there's something very-bad inside you, something that has taken over, a little fetid and rabid animal, angry and hurting and willing to bite first.

oh but even that's a pain that's sexy. open your mouth. be careful not to let the canines show.

[jaythes1mp]

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

5528 words, 31958 characters, 321 sentences, 115 paragraphs, 22.1 pages.

Dick silently observed your sleeping form through meticulously concealed cameras around the room, a secret the family have kept even from Jason's knowledge.

He couldn't help but smile softly at the sight of you, cozily wrapped up in the soft woolen blankets he had masterfully orchestrated to be displayed on pop up ads all over your computer. Using Tim's hacking skills to flood your screen with countless ads for the snug blankets. He had spent months immersed in countless YouTube tutorials and enduring more pricks of his fingers from the knitting kits than he cared to admit. All in an effort to perfect the soft wool necessary to create the cozy blankets he observed you always instinctively seeking out when shopping, seeking to replicate that soothing comfort the same way your favourite sweaters did.

Dick waited quietly for over twenty minutes behind the front door, his phone held in his hand, with a soft grin playing on his lips. He knew the subtle creak of the wood would rouse you from your sleep, and he prepared himself to be the first thing you saw upon waking up.

Grayson couldn't help but coo softly as he observed you, looking around in confusion. You were so adorably clueless without your siblings to guide you, like a lost little bird.

He softly taps his knuckles against the door, but flinches backward as the wood creaks loudly, creating a resounding echo. He quickly checks his phone to see you flinching, and hisses under his breath, "Damn it."

He quickly flicks the app and pockets his phone, fiddling with his clothes to look perfect for your little outing.

After another five minutes of patient waiting, Dick drops his smile and knocks again, this time in a more rushed manner. He can't help but feel just a tad bit impatient, his fingers itching to see you.

He hears a soft thump and a low hiss followed by a curse, and Dick has to stifle a soft, amused chuckle. You must have toppled off of the couch, quite ungracefully, if the muffled cursing is any indication.

He glances down at his watch, noting the time - 01:24 PM. He muses mentally that there's still a good hour remaining before the reservation, plenty of time to coax you out of your cosy apartment and into some suitable clothes.

Dick hums a soft tune to himself as he waits, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the anxiety ring Tim had gifted him for Christmas. The fond smile on his lips widens as his deep ocean eyes crinkle with the gesture.

He straightens up, smoothing his hand delicately down his shirt as his gaze zeroes in on the door handle, listening intently to the distinct click as the lock disengages. A soft, sincere smile graces Dick's face as the door swings open to reveal you, disheveled and bleary-eyed. He can't help but find your drowsy appearance endearing.

Grayson’s voice comes out gruff and deeper than intended as he utters a soft, "Hey..." in greeting, the sound catching in his throat for the briefest of moments. He quickly gathers his composure, clearing his throat as he takes in your sleep-rumpled appearance. You looked even better in person.

The fond smile on your face was causing his heart to race. His baby bird. So grown up...

“What are you doing here so early, Grayson?” Hearing you speak jars Dick out of his thoughts, and he quickly runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth it back into place. He can't help but imagine you calling him "big bro," the thought causing his heart to skip a beat, and he mentally berates himself for it.

"I wanted to see how my favourite little bird is doing," he responds with a crooked smile, trying to play it cool. Or rather, that’s how he wanted to reply. Unfortunately, his attempt to play it cool is thwarted. He aims to reply with a casual nonchalance, but instead, his words come out as a spluttering mess. "It's already past one," he manages to utter, his voice cracking halfway through the words. Dick inwardly cringes at the voice crack, mentally cursing himself for faltering so visibly. “It's not that early.”

"I came to see how you're doing," Dick swiftly recovers, leaning casually against the doorframe as he explains his unexpected arrival. "Jason gave me the address," he quickly responds, noticing the confusion etched across your face. He mentally chides himself for appearing so flustered, knowing he needs to come up with a plausible explanation for his sudden visit.

It isn't until your brows furrow and the question leaves your lips that he realises he may have inadvertently revealed his connection to Jason. His mind races for an excuse, realising he needs to tread carefully to avoid raising further suspicion. He hates having to lie to his baby birdy. You deserve to know the truth. But he also knows that Bruce is keeping the information from you for a reason.

Dick can feel his body tensing up, and he forces a soft chuckle past his lips, trying to act casual and nonchalant. His mind is racing, searching for a suitable response to diffuse the situation before you can continue questioning him. “You could... definitely say that.”

Before you can react, the older man swiftly brushes past you, stepping into the apartment and moving deeper into the living area. His sudden movement leaves you momentarily speechless. He almost chuckles at the surprise flashed all over your face.

As you part your lips to speak he quickly steps in, his gaze darting all over your face, committing every little pore and feature to memory. “We’ve got our reservation in an hour.” The man can't contain his excitement as he moves further into your flat, his gaze darting around the room with a poorly disguised smile. He's inside your home, in civilian clothes, while you're awake. This is a moment he's envisioned countless times, and he can't help the sense of giddiness that washes over him.

Your mind races as you follow Dick further into the apartment. A reservation? You weren't expecting any plans today, least of all with Dick. Questions dance on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be asked, but the time constraint and the sense of urgency in his words makes it impossible to voice them.

"Dick, what –” he promptly interrupts you with a firm glance, but instantly softens when he sees the pout on your face. His expression quickly changing to a sheepish one.

"No time for questions," he grins, casting a fond glance in your direction before reluctantly shifting his attention to the surrounding apartment in search of something suitable for you to wear.

As Dick begins walking around the living area, he swiftly and efficiently sets about collecting a variety of clothing items. He snatches up a hoodie, a pair of shoes, and a jacket before adding them to the growing pile beside him. He carefully lays out the garments as he proceeds to plan your entire outfit for the day, as if he's already made up his mind about how you should look.

He maneuvers around the apartment carefully, avoiding any of Jason's clothes like second nature. He's all too familiar with the other boy's habit of leaving his belongings scattered around recklessly. He has no intention of stepping into the minefield that is Jason's mess. Rolling his eyes affectionately at the sight before him, Dick couldn’t help but find the scene slightly endearing.

His mind flicks through the various pieces of clothing he knows are in your closet, but he quickly shakes his head in dismissal. This will have to do for now. He scoops up the collection of clothes, folding them neatly and slinging the stack of clothing over your shoulder cheekily.

He takes a brief pause, his deep ocean eyes locking onto your own for a moment. Searching for something that he seems to find in your expression. A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before he turns away to begin searching the room for a bag.

You catch the clothes before they can fall to the floor, raising a quiet eyebrow as you look at Dick. "Are you asking me to change now?" you ask, your voice tinged with mild amusement. God, he loved your voice. He's mesmerized by the sweetness in your tone, the way your words seem to dance effortlessly off your tongue. He could listen to you talk all day, every day. It was like music to his ears. The sweet, hypnotising tone that seemed to always reel him in. His baby bird.

His gaze shifts to the area where he recalls seeing a bag on the surveillance footage from last week, when you had used it to buy some pet food. His eyes roam over the floor, searching intently for the bag he had spotted before. “Not particularly asking," A grin tugs at his lips as he spots the small backpack shoved underneath a chair in the corner. Triumphant, he moves over and picks it up, the familiar canvas material gripped in his hand. "It's more of a gentle suggestion."

He turns back to you, holding up the backpack with a victorious expression on his face. "Found the bag," he declares, throwing it towards you. Without missing a beat, he resumes his search, scannings the room diligently with meticulous attention to detail. His gaze doesn't miss a single spot, methodically checking every corner as if it were second nature to him.

"Why do we need a bag?" Your voice cuts through the room, causing Dick to shift his attention back towards you. He silently scolds himself, suppressing the overwhelming desire to croon at the innocent confusion in your tone. In his eyes, you're like a little lost bird, fluttering around cluelessly, desperately in need of guidance from your big brother.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his shoulders visibly relaxing slightly. He moves closer to you, bridging the small distance that separates you. Resting his weight on the back of a chair, his gaze locks onto yours. His voice is soft and tender, a gentle attempt to soothe your curiosity. "We just do," he reiterates gently, as if hoping to ease your confusion.

He leans in further, his voice taking on a more soothing tone. "Don't worry about it," he says slowly, his words meant to assure any anxiety.

His response leaves you frustrated, the vagueness doing little to satisfy your curiosity. Huffing in annoyance, you turn on your heel and stride down the corridor with purposeful steps. You march into your bedroom, closing the door behind you with an audible click, effectively shutting him out. Dick remains in the room, watching your hasty exit with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his eyes, your childish huffiness was nothing short of adorable.

He steps forward and leans his weight against the side of the couch, a tender smile playing on his lips. He listens intently to the soft rustling sounds coming from behind the closed door, where you are presumably changing. Though he can't see you, he is intimately aware of your every movement, each shuffle of fabric echoing in the room like a secret. The closed door serves as a deceptive veil of privacy, one that holds little power in his eyes.

He continues to listen, his sharp senses picking up every subtle sound from behind the door. The soft thud of your footsteps, the quiet sigh as you pull on a shirt, the gentle whisper of fabric against skin. He can almost picture the way your body would move, and a part of him wishes he could see each motion, commit it to memory.

The desire that wells within him is not one of a sexual nature. Instead, it is a yearning for a deeper, more intimate connection. For the kind of trust that comes from being laid completely bare, defenseless. He longs for a moment when you are vulnerable before him, stripped of all defenses and pretences. Where you place unwavering trust in him, giving him the chance to truly cherish and protect you, to cherish the trust you place in him as you reveal your true self. It’s what he yearns for.

Dick's gaze flickers up at the sound of the door handle turning, his eyes immediately fixating on your form as you step out of the bedroom. The sight of you wearing the clothes he had carefully chosen fills him with satisfaction. Each piece fits you just like he had envisioned, and he can't help but admire the way the fabric drapes over your frame.

He casually pushes himself away from the couch, his gaze trailing over your figure with open appreciation. His smile widens as he moves closer, closing the distance between you until he stands within an arm’s length away.

He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing the fabric of your shirt, as if he can't help himself. "Looks good," he murmurs, a hint of pride and possessiveness in his voice. The words spoken lower than a whisper, as if he’s talking to himself.

“See, didn’t I pick the best outfit?" he teases, his voice gentle and affectionate. He reaches out to tug lightly on the sleeve of your hoodie, a soft smile playing on his lips. The fabric is smooth and soft under his touch, and he takes a moment to simply savor the feeling of it against his fingers.

He tilts his head in a subtle move, his gaze tracing over every contour of your face. His eyes rove over your features, meticulously cataloguing them in his memory. It’s an unconscious act, a silent check to confirm that you're alright, that you're there and safe. Just within his reach.

Dick looks up, instantly recognising the irritation in your stance. It's a sight all too familiar, one reminiscent of a certain Damian. Your arms crossed defiantly, like a petulant child. He can't help but let a sheepish smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "What's that look for?" he teases, attempting to dissipate the tension. He can almost hear Tim's voice in the back of his mind, commenting on how much you resemble the youngest Wayne.

Your eyes narrow slightly, the irritation etched deep in your expression. Frustration is evident as you shift uneasily on your feet in the silence that follows. The atmosphere feels charged, weighed down by the unspoken.

Finally, you cut through the tension. Your tone is firm, demanding as you address him directly. "Dick, seriously," you say abruptly, cutting off any attempt at banter. "Why am I changing? Where are we going? You're being ridiculously vague."

Dick lets out a resigned sigh, his smile faltering slightly under the weight of your direct question. He had been hoping to delay this conversation until later, but he's aware that your persistence won’t allow for any evasion.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the neatly styled locks. His expression turns serious as he locks his gaze with yours. While the constant questioning can occasionally be irksome, he can’t help but find a certain charm in it, that endearing childlike curiosity that often drives you.

The answer is simple, stated as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going out.” It’s a straightforward statement, short and lacking in any further details or context. He preens at the way your face contorts in confusion. You looked cute.

You're about to question him, craving more details about the plan, but before you can utter a word, Dick interrupts. He holds up his hand, preemptively stopping any further inquiry. "And before you ask," he starts, his voice steady, "I can't tell you where." His gaze gleams with amusement.

His voice is steady and unwavering, carrying a firmness that leaves no room for debate. But deep in his eyes, a flicker of conflicting emotions dances - a mixture of concern and determination. Dick understands that he can't divulge everything just yet. He knows the truth has to remain hidden, cloaked in secrecy. However, as he gazes at you at this very moment, his heart clenches. It's difficult to keep the truth from you, to prevent himself from simply sweeping you away right in that instant. His contemplation abruptly comes to a halt as you take a step closer to him, closing the distance between you.

You let out a soft sigh, moving closer to him. Your arms are held out, your annoyance evident in the slight pout on your face. The action sparks a tightening sensation in Dick's chest, his heart reacting instinctively to the sight of you waiting with your arms open, an unspoken plea for affection.

Your pout brings about an immediate transformation in Dick. His manner softens, a fond chuckle escaping his lips as he recognises the familiar indication of frustration. In response, he pushes himself off the couch and moves closer, promptly wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him.

His embrace is firm and secure, an unspoken message of reassurance. His chest brushes against yours with each breath, a comforting presence. He pulls you against him, your body fitting perfectly in the space between his arms. Dick buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent.

He tightens his arms around you, drawing you closer to his chest. In another context, he would likely take the opportunity to tease you about your pout, a behaviour he always finds endearing. But in this moment, there's a sense of urgency that hangs heavy on his shoulders. A silent understanding flickers in his eyes, and he pulls you even closer, his breath warm against your skin.

He senses the tension that courses through your form, the frustration and confusion palpable in your stance. In response, he begins to gently run his hands up and down your back, trying to ease the anxiety that clings to your body. His fingers press softly into your skin, a familiar touch that he hopes brings a sense of comfort. At the thought of you being upset, he feels a wave of protective anger wash over him. After all, no one should hurt his little sibling. Ever.

Dick rests his chin on the top of your head, his eyes closing for a moment. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, the rhythm of your breathing, the steady beat of your heart. He memorizes each sensation, committing them to memory.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose. He inhales deeply, the familiar fragrance calming his nerves. He can hear your own steadying breaths, the soft exhale against his chest.

Holding you close in his embrace, he murmurs into the softness of your hair, his words carrying the weight of sincere reassurance. "Trust me, okay?" he says, his voice resolute. There's no room for argument, only a plea for your unwavering trust.

He feels your response in an instant, your arms encircling him tightly and pulling him closer to you, their grip firm yet tender. As you look up at him, a small, tentative smile begins to form on your lips, the earlier irritation dissolving under the soothing presence of his proximity.

The furrow between your eyebrows softens, replaced by the hint of a smile. The stiffness in your frame begins to subside, the aggravation gradually fading away as he continues to hold you, his touch working its magic. You're blissfully unaware of the effect you have on him, each little expression making his heart swell.

A wave of warm affection washes over him as he gently pushes a strand of hair out of your face. His hand then moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the contour of your skin affectionately. His words, soft and soothing, break the silence. "Ready to go?" The image of you, nestled in his arms, is so vividly etched into his mind that he never wants to forget it. In that moment, you were his. His baby bird.

You roll your eyes, the gesture lighthearted and amusing. You lean your head into his touch, your features relaxing into a softer expression.

"I guess," you say, adding a touch of sarcasm. Despite the ambiguity and the unanswered questions, there's a sense of reassurance in being with him. The bond between you is deep-rooted. In that moment he knows that you trust him completely.

A wide grin spreads across Dick's face as you pull away, his arms dropping to his sides. The mixture of curiosity and subtle irritation in your eyes amuses him. He meets your gaze, his own eyes sparkling with a hint of his characteristic playfulness. "You'll find out soon enough; no need to worry." Even though the words are casual, the undertone of his voice indicates a barely concealed desperate urge to pull you back into his embrace.

He turns away, picking his jacket up from the back of a chair. He slings it over his shoulder, gesturing towards the door. “C'mon, we've got a reservation to catch.”

Dick leads you down a quieter street, away from the hustle and bustle of the main road. The ambiance of the area is distinctly more upscale, the shops and restaurants here a noticeable step above the rest of the city. A place he’s spent countless hours researching. It’s perfect for you, it’s got the food you like, it’s one of the lowest crime rates in the city, and the family has full control of the surrounding areas.

He guides you towards the charming little bistro, the soft light of the outdoor lanterns creating chiaroscuro patterns on his features. Dick can't help himself; his hand moves instinctively to tousle your untamed, bedraggled hair, a fond gesture of affection.

A satisfied smirk lights up Dick's face, his confidence evident. "Told you I've got this under control," he gestures toward the entrance. "Let's go."

Dick opens the door, gesturing for you to enter before him. The restaurant's interior exudes refinement, but he barely spares it a glance, his focus entirely on you as he allows himself to admire you.

Immediately, a sharply dressed host approaches, her spine ramrod straight and chin held high. Dick's voice is assured and unruffled. "Reservation for Grayson," he states, his manner self-assured and laid-back. The host already is aware, of course, but Dick is well aware he needs to keep you from posing any unnecessary queries.

The waitress gives a knowing nod, sharing a silent understanding with Dick. She affixes her most polite smile and phrases her question with a courteous tone, "The four-in-one show, is it?"

"That’s the one," he responds casually. The waitress nods in agreement and leads the way to the reserved area. Dick naturally gravitates toward you, his hand finding its way back to your waist, the touch both possessive and reassuring as he tenderly guides you.

The reserved area is tucked away in a remote corner of the restaurant, deliberately secluded from the main dining area. It's a cozy, intimate space adorned with soft lighting, a small circular table topped with sparkling glassware, and padded, inviting armchairs.

Dick courteously draws out your chair for you, waiting patiently until you are comfortably seated before taking his seat opposite you.

He hums, watching over you for a moment before the silence is broken. "What the hell was the waitress talking about?" you ask, leaning your cheek against your palm.

Dick gives a soft chuckle as he settles into his seat across from you, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "You’ll see," he answers in a purposely vague manner, his eyes nonchalantly roaming over the leather-bound menu. However, his attention is not fully focused on the menu. His gaze drifts towards you as he steals furtive glances, observing every move you make with a hawk-like intensity that only an older brother has.

Dick observes your struggle for a few moments, watching as you squint at the small, intricate script scrawled across the menu. He can’t help but chuckle softly, the endearing sight amusing him.

"Struggling there, birdie?" he teases with a smirk. The name slipping past his lips absently.

"How can anyone read this?" He watches you toss the menu down, slouching back in your chair in frustration. Dick grins warmly at your disgruntled expression and reassures you, a touch of humor in his voice. "You get used to it," he informs you, the hint of amusement in his tone evident. "Reading these fancy menus is all part of the experience, y’know."

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on the tabletop. He takes a moment to observe you as you continue to mutter and fuss, clearly not appreciating the fanciful script and intricate typography on the menu. Inwardly, he wanted nothing more than to gush over how adorable you looked with that disgruntled expression plastered across your face.

"Whoever made these is a sadist," Dick chuckles deeply, the sound echoing in the small, intimate space, making the air feel even more private. "You're right," he confirms, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "But don't worry," he assures you, a grin forming on his lips. "I'll step in to help you read the rest, if needed."

Your eyes narrow as you respond defensively. "I'm not a child. I don’t need help to read." the eldest brother clenches his teeth firmly, struggling to hold back a heated retort. he bites his tongue. But you are.

Dick expertly buries his inner thoughts beneath a veneer of false joviality, holding up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. His forced smirk attempts to mask his true feelings, as he replies in that charming manner of his. "Hey, I never said you did," he says smoothly, his tone still even and lighthearted.

"I was just offering my services as a personal menu translator," he teases, smirk deepening as you roll your eyes playfully, clearly enjoying your little bit of banter.

"You're cute when you're stubborn," he comments, the compliment slipping out almost effortlessly, like it's something he says every day. And when it comes to you, it really is.

Dick leans back in his chair, lifting the glass of water to his lips and taking a measured sip. A momentary silence descends upon the conversation as both of you stare down at the menu, each of you lost in your own thoughts. After a brief pause, he speaks up once again, the quiet finally broken.

Dick couldn't help but laugh again in response to your indignant hiss. Your defiant, pouty expression was just too adorable to resist, an almost complete 180 from your usual demeanor. "So," he asks casually, "finding anything interesting on there? Or is it all just gibberish to you?" You shoot a glare in his direction, muttering a frustrated "Oh, shut up."

"Hey," Dick returns with a teasing smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It’s not my fault you can’t read fancy, tiny writing." Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on the tabletop as he continues, his tone more earnest now. "Seriously, though, have you found anything you'd like? I can order for us if you'd like," the peace offering clear in his voice.

A small smile graces your lips as you finally set the menu aside. Leaning back into the chair, you place your arms over your chest and turn to Dick, addressing him with a faux-dramatic flair. "Alright, Mr. Fancy Menu Translator," you declare. "Surprise me." Dick grins widely, thoroughly pleased at your response. He lifts an eyebrow, savoring the moment before speaking again. "Challenge accepted," he replies, his tone filled with playful confidence.

"Surprise it is then." Dick chuckles softly, his gaze flickering over the menu, though it is clear that his attention is entirely on you, rather than the list of dishes. With a smooth precision, he signals for a nearby waiter and places your orders with expert ease. Once the waiter steps away, his gaze turns back to you, a proud smirk plastered on his face.

"Alright, you're in my hands now," Dick's smirk deepens, your name rolling effortlessly off his tongue. You roll your eyes dramatically in response to his conceited attitude, though inside you can't deny the quiet thrill it sparks in you. He always knew how to keep things exciting and engaging. "In your hands, huh?" you muse, arching an eyebrow in a faux-skeptical manner. "Should I be worried?"

The warm, cerulean depths of Dick’s eyes follow your movements closely, noticing the unconscious way you shift towards him, as if seeking out his presence. A wave of protectiveness washes over him, yearning to envelop you in his embrace and keep you safe forever. But he quells the urge, choosing to bask in the moment, relishing the time he has to spend with you. "Oh, I think you should be very worried.”

Grayson leans forward, matching your position and bringing himself closer to you across the table. In a soft, almost imperceptible gesture, he subtly brushes his knee against yours beneath the tabletop, the touch gentle and affectionate.

"But don’t worry," he adds, his tone shifting into something slightly more genuine. "I’ll take good care of you."

You grimace and let out a mock gag, dramatically clutching your stomach as a playful response. Your voice drips with sarcasm as you shoot back, “What, did you steal that from a soap opera?”

Dick feigns offence, a hand dramatically flying to his chest as he gasps dramatically. "Me? Steal from a soap opera? I’m wounded," he grins, his tone equally as sarcastic as yours. Nose scrunching up in extra flair. He revels in this moment, you were acting like true siblings would. He wonders if you somehow know, if you’re somehow aware, but he squishes down the thought.

"You’re supposed to swoon, by the way. That’s usually the natural response to such declarations.”

"Sorry to disappoint," you reply dryly. "I’ll be sure to swoon next time. Maybe I’ll even swoon so hard I fall out of my seat." Dick chuckles heartily at your retort, the sound deep and genuine.

"Careful there," he teases. "I’d hate for you to give yourself a concussion. I’m still enjoying my night." He reaches out to gently pinch your cheek before pulling his hand away, his smile still firmly in place.

You scoff at the action, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your cheek. A soft glare thrown his way. "Stop it," you warn, though your tone lacks any real seriousness. "You’re such a child sometimes."

Dick grins unrepentantly, clearly unworried about your 'warning.'

"You love it," he says, his tone cocky as ever. He has the smug expression of someone who knows exactly how true his statement is.

"I do not," he holds back a giggle at your huff. You narrow your eyes. "You're infuriating, you know that?"

Dick grins wider, clearly satisfied with your response. He leans back in his seat, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Oh, I know," he replies, his tone smug. "But you love it, admit it."

“It sounds like you’re just trying to get me to tell you that.” You shoot him an unimpressed look, which Grayson shoulders almost too easily. He tilts his knee further into your own, seeking out your warmth.

"And if I am?" he responds, that cocky grin still on his face.

Dick leans forward yet again, the proximity between you decreasing with every movement. His intense stare remains unwavering, fixed intently upon your eyes. "Admit that you love it when I tease you," he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, "and I’ll stop."

Dick can barely contain the storm of emotions churning inside him at the thought of you confessing your feelings first. His heart soars with elation and giddiness, his mind spinning with sheer joy. My baby bird. In his mind, he silently pleads say it. Please, just say you love me.

"Yeah, alright. Whatever. So what if I do?" You respond with a reluctant shrug, leaning back against the chair, feigning nonchalance. Dick's heart skips a beat, the nonchalant dismissal causing a surge of excitement within him. It takes all his self-control to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions bubbling up inside.

Dick grins widely in response, the triumph in his voice evident as he gloats. "See? Was that so hard?" he teases. "Admitting that you love my teasing." His smirk widens even further, the cocky satisfaction of knowing he has you wrapped around his finger all too clear.

He moves his elbow onto the table, resting his chin against the palm of his hand as he stares at you intently. A smoldering, almost intense look in his eyes, the playfulness in his tone masking the deeper emotions hidden beneath. "I knew you couldn't resist my charm," he drawls, his voice dropping even lower, filled with a mixture of smugness and possessiveness. You can't help but snort at his arrogance.

“Dick.”

Your voice causes him to pout involuntarily. The way you say it makes him think you're not actually calling out his name, and a frown momentarily mars his features.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features used, no gender mentioned.

Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony @nickey-diano @sociallyakwardpanda @obsessedwithromance @thickerthanthieves @nckcn @xxrougefangxx @th0rn118 @gaozorous-rex-blog @lyl-3 @wtf-am-i-doing-with-my-life-help @snowy-violets @atsukogikoshi @eyeless-kun @soriansick

[helen-with-an-a]

Beautiful Girl Headcanons 4

Alexia Putellas x reader

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

Amor has a Polaroid that brings on all of their dates - she keeps a scrapbook of all of their dates in order, what they did and where they were

Alexia didn’t tell Amor she was dying her hair pink she just came home from visiting Alba with it

Amor can speak German (she played at Wolfsburg) and it’s one of the few big European languages Ale really has no clue what they’re talking about (with French and Italian she can get a general understanding of the conversation because of Ale’s knowledge of Spanish and Catalan) - Amor, Ingrid, Caro, Frido and Eva like to speak on German sometimes (partly so they don’t loose the language but also because it drives the Spanish gals insane)

Amor likes the bedroom to be absolutely freezing at night time but Ale is a big cuddler

Amor starts to call Ale ‘my wife’ when she’s out in public and Alexia legitimately panics thinking that she and Amor got married but she doesn’t remember it

Amor likes to leave some rather … scandalous … Polaroids for Alexia whenever they’re apart for more than a few days

Ingrid and Ale set up play dates for Amor and Mapí without their knowledge - they sit and gossip whilst Mapí and Amor play video games and stuff (Amor and Mapí just think it’s a group hang out)

When Ale got the all clear from the doctors to play matches again after her ACL, Amor was sobbing harder than Alexia was

Every anniversary, Ale gifts Amor a scrapbook to fit their Polaroid date memories in - they’re personalised with the date and which year of the relationship it is (they usually go on at least 1 date a week so it’s quite a hefty album)

When Alexia played her first minutes back after her injury, Amor surprised her with a strip tease and lap dance when they got home

Every time they see a photo booth, Amor and Ale have to go in it - they always do the same 4 poses (one nice smiley one, their heads pressed together; one with Amor kissing Ale’s cheek; one where Ale is kissing Amor’s cheek; and one where they’re mid-make out) - the photos get pinned on a cork board they keep propped on their sex toy dresser

Ale is an early bird and Amor is just a permanently exhausted pigeon

Their periods have synched up - Ale’s appears first and 2 days later Amor’s has arrived

Amor knows Ale’s skin care routine off by heart and Ale knows Amor’s

Amor is a heavyweight when it comes to her alcohol whereas Ale gets giggly after one drink

The sex toy dresser came about after Ale asked Alba to grab something from her bedside cabinet but Alba opened the wrong drawer

Amor is a lamp kinda person - the Big Light is banned from being switched on

Ale gets really irritated when Amor doesn’t put things in the washing basket

Amor is not a fan of the yellow kits - she understands the significance and importance completely and would never say it out loud but she thinks she looks hideous in it and wishes they didn’t wear it

Ale is basically a hoarder - anything Amor has given her has been kept (down to the wrapper of a chocolate bar Amor surprised her with whilst she was on her period when they first got together)

Amor occasionally uses the Polaroid during sex because she knows this is the only way those sorts of photos won’t be hacked - they’re all stored away in a safe that she keeps in the back of the wardrobe

Amor’s favourite kit to look at was the light purple 21-22 away kit but her favourite kit to wear was the 22-23 home kit

Alex’s love language is words of affirmation; Amor’s is gift giving but they both have physical touch as their second

Before Amor proposed to Ale, she asked Eli if she could take her out for lunch, they ended up at Alexia’s father’s grave and she asked for their daughter’s hand - she said it was important that she asked both of them and she hopes Jaume would approve of her and Alexia’s decision to love Amor

The reason why Amor was once called the devil by a dad of a boy she played against was because she pushed him (the dad) really hard (essentially jelly legged him) and he fell over - she was 6 and he was bullying is child because she beat him

Ale will cry at the drop of a hat when she’s watching movies if she’s alone with Amor, if there’s anyone else in the room (even her mum and sister) she refuses to let the tears fall

[the-californicationist]

This or That Tag Game

Thank you so much to @gemmahale and @cosmicpro for the tag!!

Coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party

NPTs: @vampirekilmerfic // @kit-williams // @madstronaut // @sageyxbabey // @pricesugarwife -- and anyone who sees this, please @ me so I can check your list out ✌️🩷

[multifariousqueer]

im starving for 42 miles and i agree w ur hcs so can u pls write a fem reader fic where we’re chilling at home n he js barges in one night all roughed up n he has heaps of cuts n is bloody- and we get concerned but we know not to ask so we js silently patch him up while he stares at us (and hes got like sm thoughts in his head ab how much he loves us and appreciates us etc) and u can finish it off BUT YEAH

also pls include the pet names cos his accent has me WEAKKK and ik he def calls us ma and mami😩😩😩

Ofc Love!!! I’ve wanted to get this done for a bit now so here it is!!:

A/n: keep requesting miles!42 and regular miles fics please!! 🩷

Warnings: suggestiveness at the end, make out sessions, angst, fluff, groping(it’s consensual and it’s only seen when you squint), love confessions, possible spoilers if you haven’t seen atsv yet

3:00 AM

You: miles, baby are you okay?

Seen

You: are you mad at me for the joke I made about your braids being fluffy?

Seen

You: I didn’t mean it

You: text me when you can. Love you 🩷🩷

Seen

You fell asleep exasperated like you’ve been doing for the last three weeks now. Miles hasn’t been answering any of your texts or calls and has been leaving you on seen for no reason. When you did see him in person, he looked tired and diminished. Ever since his dad died, he’s been acting weird like this; but you could understand why. Although him and Uncle Aaron were closer, Miles was still really close to his dad and his dad loved you. You came over Rio and Miles’ house every day since then and tried to provide solace to them but Miles was always gone when you came over. His room looked different too, having ditched the bright superhero posters and traded them in for boxing gloves and a punching bag. Thankfully, you had established trust with Miles and he knew he could come to you any time, you just didn’t expect him to come through your window at 4:00 AM on a Saturday morning.

It was about 3:15 when he saw your message, he wondered why you were still up and what were you doing but he couldn’t ponder the question for too long because he had someone chained up to his punching bag.

“Miles? Get off your phone, man.”- Uncle Aaron’s voice brought Miles back to reality

Miles did as told and geared up to kill the young boy who looked exactly like himself when all of a sudden, the chains fell and the doppelgänger swung at Miles’ perfectly structured face. A few of the punches connected but he was still able to subdue the mirrored image of himself(if everything went right).

However, Miles’ suit had been clobbered, his clothes covered in blood from a broken nose and blood from the fight. Even though he won, he couldn’t go back to his house because his mom would admonish him for this and Uncle Aaron was keeping watch so he went to your house.

You heard faint tapping on the window that you had assumed it was a bird, until the tapping became a loud knocking. You scurried up grabbing the nearest thing that looked like a weapon and went to the window. You found a battered Miles and knew something was wrong:

“Miles?”-you whisper shouted

“Ola mi amor” he said, trying to be suave but flinching in pain

You opened the window and let him in. You knew he was rough and bloodied up for a reason but it was late(or early depending on how you look at it) and you knew he wouldn’t tell you why; a small part of you also knew but chose not to acknowledge it. You just silently grabbed the first aid kit and patched him up as best as you could. You noticed he had a broken nose:

“Rough night?” You Said, trying to ease the tension

Miles didn’t reply, rather he looked at you through bruised eyes and simply nodded.

“Your nose is broken. You should probably go the the hospital for that” you said, nonchalantly

“Can’t you fix it?” He mumbled

“not easily” you mumbled, mocking his tone

He gave you an annoyed glare before saying:

“I’m sorry to come in late like this. And I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, Mami; it’s a lot going on that you wouldn’t understand and I’m trying to protect you.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to call or text” you said while closing the first-aid kit.

“I knew you would’ve worried about me and I didn’t want that” he said, hanging his head

“I’m your girlfriend, it’s my job to worry about you” you chuckled

It was like a Disney movie, Miles realized that if no one else would, you would hold it down for him and that you were gonna be there through thick and thin. He knew he loved you but this solidified it in his mind; he knew that if he survived long enough, you were gonna be his wife. It would be you waking him up everyday, it would be you kissing him goodnight and good morning, it would be you carrying and having his babies. Some days, he would wake up and wonder how he got so lucky with someone like you but he never thought too much into it because he knew he would find a way to sabotage it for himself but now, he didn’t care:

“I love you, Y/n” he said

“I love you too, Miles” you replied softly

“No. I mean like I love you so much that I can’t stand it, I wanna marry you, Y/n and be with you for life. If no one else has me, I know you do and I can’t even imagine myself without you.” Miles said

You started to tear up before crashing your lips onto his. Your lips moved in perfect sync as he grabbed your hips with one hand, and cupped your face in the other. You stayed this way for a while until Miles slipped his tongue into your mouth, battling for dominance against your tongue which he emerged victorious. He started moving his other hand to your ass as you moved yours to his chest when suddenly, you hear your parent call out:

“Y/n!!!”

“Yeah” you replied nervously, Miles leaving a trail of kisses down your neck

“Breakfast is ready” they shouted

You looked at your phone as Miles rubbed your back and saw it was 8:00 already.

“Shit” You Said under your breath, partly because of how Miles was making you feel

“Go Mamà, we’ll finish this later” he said against his neck

“Okay I love you, call me this time” you smiled

“Por supesto, Mami” he replied

You went down for breakfast and sat in your normal spot:

“Y/n?” Your parent said

“Yeah?” You replied

“What’s that on your neck?” They smirked

Damn it Miles

Translations

Por supesto- of course

[ranticore]

visored longwing harpies & the hall of faces

I did say there was no exclusive global culture on Siren shared by humans of a certain body type, and I lied, because there is One.

The early settlers on Siren were the unaltered human workforce of a certain megacorporation. While an almost unlimited budget was poured into the dodgy gene programs, since that was why they chose to settle a planet so far out of the reach of The Authorities, everything else was done pretty cheaply, including the settling itself. In order to map out their new home planet, incredibly cheap mass-produced aircraft were used by pilots. These aircraft could be made quickly and easily at the settlement site because they lacked a flight computer or any real sensors - or any equipment at all in the cockpit. Rather than a multitude of different equipment loadouts on an aircraft that would take time and effort to swap out or maintain, the pilots instead used these visors which were universally compatible with the one-size-fits-all aircraft. It's kind of like how it's easier to just carry a phone around with a calculator app than it is to carry a phone and a calculator, even if the phone app calculator experience sucks by comparison.

The visors were the real expensive kit, each custom built to a pilot's exact needs and flight style, and they were built to last. the aircraft fell apart in the following centuries but the visors remained, hyperlight plastic powered by the planet's native star, and something interesting happened. The remains of the first settlement were largely inaccessible to anyone but longwing harpies, and these harpies had the right head shape to fit the visors. Many of the pilots had filled their visors with video and photo files from home, from Earth, like a worker decorating his cubicle with photos of his family. Some had been decorated on the outside, as well, resembling birds. The harpies that found the visors obviously tried to use them. They found themselves experiencing visions of strange worlds, recordings of long-dead pilots and ATC, and found that each visor can interface with every other one, no matter how far apart. Each visor came with its own callsign, its own name, which has remained for thousands of years - and because of this, each visor is considered by the cultures of Siren to be a named character with a distinct personality (eg. the swan visor was cygnus2, it is known now as Signastoo)

I keep posting the map and it needs to be redrawn but essentially every red triangle is an ancient telecomm tower. These became the only remaining waypoints on the visors' HUD and mapping software, meaning that 1. a true global culture could emerge, with longwings gathering at these sites, and 2. visored longwings became the gold standard for navigation on Siren. In a world that is basically just water, that's a big deal.

There exist only a few thousand visors (about 3k I'd say). The unused visors are kept in the Hall of Faces, the ancient aviation bay at the first settlement in West. Because of how water levels and land structures have changed over the years, this building exists on a mesa that rises another few thousand feet out of the water, with sheer sides, and is utterly inaccessible to anyone but a longwing harpy. When a visored harpy dies, the visor is returned here. If you want to claim a visor, you need to hold an interview with one of the elders at the site, who will test you rigorously to see if you can inhabit the character of one of the visors. If not, too bad. If you do get it, it's yours until either you die or you do something considered 'out of character' for the wearer of that particular visor. It is DEEPLY discouraged to steal a visor off anyone because it would be largely impossible, given how they all can communicate (imagine a gigantic worldwide discord server where the location & name of every person is known at all times... the drama is likely insane but at least if someone steals a visor, everyone will know about it)

not every longwing desires a visor because it comes with a lot of responsibility alongside its automatic prestige, and you can't really give it up once you have it. also there's always the possibility of being diagnosed with a super annoying, glitchy, or hated visor character lol. but among the roughly 2700 visored harpies on Siren there does exist a global culture exclusive to them. they chat to one another long-distance, engage in closed-practice ceremonies where they all get high and look at videos of Earth, and essentially become a class outside the mundanity of normal life on Siren. to the rest of the population, they basically become telepathic wizards

Terwyef's visor (first pic) is called Scrappercharlee and is one of the more common models, tho it has been decorated over the years with extra bits. Scrappercharlee is a bit busted and half the HUD is missing. Miakef's visor (second pic) Signastoo is one of the very fancy and well-known ones, it's shaped like a swan's head and likely belonged to a high-ranking pilot who could afford a bit of frippery and showmanship back in the day. Birds do not exist on Siren and harpies are mammals so the swan itself is symbolically meaningless, but the bird-style visors introduce the idea of 'a bird' in the abstract, and this has been imbued with its own form of meaning by harpies.

[urrockstar-xe]

starstruck - p.parker x fem!reader

posted nov 7th, 2023 10:15 pm

my silly little imagine i wrote today just for you silly little guys

summary: after a nasty run in with the Rhino, Spidey goes to his favorite civilian, who happens to be good with bandages, but not great with science.

reader is implied to be bad at science and thinks Midtown High is a nerd school, reader is also implied to know spidey fairly well atp

part two :)

masterlist

wordcount: 1.2k

the sound of "thwips" and wind coming from outside your window mixed with the usual city noise that served as your own personal lo-fi as you studied.

A sudden knock on your window caught your attention, grabbing you away from the task at hand. a bird, you assumed, turning back to your laptop and trying to find the point you left on, right, essay, you begin typing again,

in the early- thump thump Thump

three more rapid knocks on your window. Okay, not a bird.

but a spider.

you groaned, moving your laptop to your nightstand and standing from your warm bed, hissing at the cold hitting your bare legs, and cursing yourself for not doing laundry when the sun was out.

You walked towards the window, opening your curtain to reveal the familiar mask of New York's very own superhero. 

“spidey, we talked about this” you spoke in a sing-song voice as you pulled your window open, another hit of the cold wind hitting you as Spiderman stumbled into your dark bedroom. Laughing quietly and breathlessly as he did so. “Need your assistance,” he groaned once more, sitting on your floor and watching you through his mask as you closed the window. 

“You're hurt?” you moved to turn on the lights, cringing at the sudden brightness and then wincing at the sight of Spiderman’s side, “what the hell did you do?” 

“I fought a giant rhino” his response was too quick to be one of his usual snappy jokes, causing you to give him a confused and mortified look in response as you hurriedly dragged the first aid kit out from under your bed, 

“Don't worry about it- hey, wasn't that in your bathroom before?” he asked, before taking another deep breath and turning his gaze to your ceiling. “yeah, moved in here after you fought that lizard guy” you mumbled back, focused on getting out the proper supplies

or at least what you thought was the proper supplies

“hey aren't you cold? why aren't you wearing pants or like a onesie or-“ 

“Oh, you mean like yours?”

“Alright, touche”

You can’t help but laugh at the stupid word exchange the two of you had as you watched Spiderman peel off the top half of his suit, careful to leave his mask untouched and you respected this as he was vulnerably showing you a different side to the hero already, allowing you to see what most couldn't which was most definitely the rocky side of being New York’s Spiderman and definitely not his abbs (though you appreciated those too)

“By the way, not that I took what you said seriously or anything or that it hurt my feelings but, this is a suit, not a onesie,” Spidey said through small gasps of pain, leaning his head back into the edge of your bed as you cleaned the gaping stab wound in his side. 

“I’m sorry” You're not sure if you meant the onesie or the pain he was in but either way worked at this moment as just his shaky breaths alone made you feel guilty

Spidey stayed unusually quiet as you cleaned him up, so far having avoided stitches pretty well as you topped it off with as much bandaging supplies as you had. 

He groaned once more, before picking his head back up and looking back at you as you stood up and made your way to your desk, carefully picking up the roll of paper towels that you were previously upset at yourself for leaving in your room after cleaning this morning, although now that feeling was replaced with gratitude as you used a few sheets as a barrier to not get blood on your doorknob-

“Hey, where you goin'?” you turned your attention back to the masked vigilante who was just bleeding out on your bedroom floor. “Just to the bathroom, to clean my hands, why? Is there more?” You asked, panicked you’d have to go rummage through every cabinet in your house for more bandages. 

“Just be fast okay? Don’ wanna be alone' ' His voice sounded weak and barely audible which honestly made you panic more as you nodded in response, leaving your room to not only wash your hands but also grab a water bottle and the package of bread from your counter.

Quickly you examined the bread, searching for any sign of mold as you walked back into your room and sat across from Spiderman, setting your new items down and opening the water bottle.

“Let’s make a deal, Spidey, you drink this and you eat some of this bread at least one piece and I’ll turn around so I won’t even see a little of your face” You began negotiating, Spidey responded by lifting the bottom half of his mask to just barely above his nose, taking the water bottle with shaky hands. 

You stilled, watching him take a drink and then quickly looking down and fumbling with the packaging of the bread when you realized you were just staring at Spiderman’s lips.

Thankfully though, he ignored it, instead deciding he had the energy to tease you about something else, “bread? Just plain bread?” 

You scoffed, taking out a slice and handing it to him, watching him to a bite.

“you get what you get and you don’t throw fits” you scolded the way you did the little boy you babysit occasionally, earning a choke in response before another quiet chuckle,

okay so he’s not all lost, good. 

You sighed, putting your hand on your cheek for a second and realizing just how warm you had gotten, “listen, you wanted me back fast and this was the only thing I really had in my kitchen right now so-” He cut you off before you could finish your explanation, “thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you”

I don’t know what I’d do without you, These words that Spiderman just said to you rang in your ears for a few seconds until you sighed once more, nodding. “Although some pizza-” You groaned as he began talking, earning another more lively chuckle in return, a lingering smile on his face, this time you allowed yourself to stare, having never seen even the smallest bit of his face let alone his smile. It's nice.

“What is?” he frowned in confusion, you felt your face heat up once more. “Your smile it’s nice,” you explained, earning a nod of thanks in response as he bit into the slice of bread. He hummed as if it was the best thing he had ever tasted before once more leaning his head back into your bed.

You tried to ignore the way he looked like this, he’s injured, take a cold shower.  “So, what now huh?” you asked quietly, suddenly anxiously aware that other people lived in your apartment.

“Oh, my bad, I’m so inconsiderate- I-I’ll get out of your hair, your family is asleep and it’s school night I- my bad, I’m sorry” You watched as he stood up incredibly unstable as he did so, “hey, you don’t have-” “thank you, for you know, lettin me stain your nice carpet” he joked meekly, letting out a weak laugh as he gasped once more, struggling to put on the remains of his mangled suit, 

“Okay, Jesus, c’mon Spidey, let me help you with that” You mumbled, standing up and doing your best to help him into the top half of his suit and then watching him shove on his left glove while the other hung in his mouth.

He tried to talk, words muffled by his glove but quickly released as you took it from his teeth, causing his attention to fall completely back on you as he stopped his actions. “See you around?” He said, in an attempt to sound normal and not in immense pain. “Be safe, Spidey, don't really know what I’d do without you” You threw his words back into his face in a soft tone, gently pulling his mask down over his nose and mouth. 

“Of course,” he responded in a similar tone, almost starstruck as he put on his right glove, thanking you quietly once more before limping back out onto the fire escape outside your window, not sparing a second look as he swung into the noisy city and out of your quiet and now rather lonely room.

After cleaning up the mess you had made, you quit studying for the night, no longer able to focus with the image of Spiderman’s smile stuck in your head, you settled for bed.

But you didn’t get to sleep for another few hours.

After spending a few unfortunate hours in school the next day you had finally been free to go home and take a nap but of course, not before meeting the tutor your counselor had found for you, a student from the fancy school not too far from yours, Midtown High but of course you and your friends just considered it the school of nerds-

“Hey, You Y/n Y/l/n?” The voice that You had thought sounded awfully familiar took you away from your thoughts as you turned around to see who you assumed was Peter Parker, your tutor. “Peter?” You ask with a friendly smile, holding onto the straps on your backpack.

He looked almost starstruck before he shook his head and gave you a similar polite smile, “Nice to meet you”

[kinkykinard]

hi! continuing a positivity chain started by @thatmexisaurusrex! what are five cute headcanons you have about BuckTommy or Tommy? <3

omg @godlightbuckley and were JUST talking about coming up with bucktommy headcanons because i saw this going around and was like 'not that anyone is going to ask me but if they do, i need to be prepared' hahaha

let's see what i can come up with!

buck is an early bird. he loves getting up at the crack of dawn to start his day. tommy, on the other hand, would sleep in every day if he could. waking up at the crack of dawn when he feels buck roll over isn't so bad, though, especially when he reaches out to wrap his arms around buck and buck melts against his chest. buck's feigned protests fall on deaf ears as tommy grunts and buries his face in the crook of buck's shoulder, brushing a feather-light kiss over buck's skin.

ever since that one call with the armed chicken, tommy's been nervous around them. not that he's particularly concerned he'll ever come across another one with a knife, his mind just made some strong, if odd, associations that night and he's never had the opportunity to challenge them. so of course buck takes it upon himself to provide exposure therapy the next time he gets to babysit jee-yun. tommy is admittedly concerned for all of their safety as they step into the petting zoo paddock and jee immediately beelines for a nearby black silkie but buck gives his hand a gentle squeeze that says come on and a look that says you're safe with me and so tommy goes. by the end of the visit, he can't say that his fear is cured, but he's more sure than ever that he would follow buck wherever he wanted to go and that as long as he has buck, things are going to be just fine.

buck has a close call at work. again. and when bobby's instincts are the only thing he has to go on in telling buck to get checked out, buck takes the lack of official regulation as an out to skip yet another trip to the ER. unfortunately for him, eddie's got tommy on speed dial and in the time it takes buck to change into his civvies and jump into his jeep, eddie's given tommy the low down on the whole situation. buck doesn't suspect a thing as he walks into tommy's living room fifteen minutes later, though he supposes he should have given eddie's uncharacteristic lack of support in bobby's favor. his first instinct on seeing the first aid kit tommy has laid out on the coffee table is to make excuses, to weasel his way out of a once-over. when tommy tilts his head just a little bit, though, gives him that look, and a soft little evan, buck knows he's done for. he allows himself to be led to the couch, settled on the middle cushion, undressed, and carefully poked, prodded, and examined until tommy is unshakeably certain that he's okay. it's not all bad, though; the i'm glad you're okay sex they have afterward is one hell of a reward and buck would be a liar if he said he wasn't prepared to be a good boy all over again the next time around.

tommy loves to eat, and while he doesn't mind cooking, either, it's definitely not his favorite pastime. which is why when buck realizes that food is definitely a love language for tommy, he takes on the mantle of head chef at chez tommy. tommy insists he doesn't have to cook all the time, but buck is more than happy to do it. with all the lessons bobby's given him, the kitchen has become a sort of sanctuary for him. the busy work of finely dicing vegetables for a mirepoix and stirring seasonings into a bubbling pot of pommarola quiets something in him, and he loves having tommy by his side to help out with the less involved tasks and taste test whatever he's working on. his absolute favorite nights in the kitchen, though, are the ones where tommy's having a hard day. a bad call, a particularly devastating fire, a grueling day spent running on little food and even less sleep. on those nights, he gets to pour all of his love, care, and concern into tommy's absolute favorite dishes. the turkey, spinach, and ricotta-stuffed cannelloni that tommy loves most of all is a particularly pain-staking endeavor but it's worth every second of effort that goes into it for the soft, nostalgic smile tommy gets when he takes his first bite. it's a kinard family recipe that was handed down from his paternal grandmother and one day, over a plate of it, with his defenses down and his conviction that buck is really it for him, he opens up to tell buck all the things that shaped him, the ones he's never told another living soul.

being a firefighter and pilot had never been tommy's dream. he'd never really landed on one, in all honesty, though he'd considered everything from mechanics to law to professional athletics in his youth. when the time to make his choice had rolled around, however, all he wanted was to escape the turmoil at home and a presentation by a recruiter at school promised him a life of valor, honor, and camaraderie if he enlisted in the army, so he took the out. he'd hated every second of it and had cut and run the second he was able there, too. with bills to pay and the physical conditioning required of a firefighter at the ready, it was an easy choice to sign up for the academy soon thereafter. the lafd promised him the one thing he did miss about the army - the brotherhood, the found family - and while getting his start under captain gerrard hadn't been ideal, he'd eventually found his footing. now, doing meaningful, rewarding work alongside people he would follow to hell and back, surrounded by friends that are closer to him than his family ever was, and with the love of his life by his side, he can't imagine ever doing anything else.

And a bonus NSFW headcanon!

does that make this a 5+1?

buck loves how intimate being penetrated is. sure, he's been pegged before, but he had no idea how different the real thing would be. having tommy inside of him makes him feel complete in a way that nothing else ever has, and the intimacy of the moments where their bodies are connected, where tommy is seated fully inside of him, makes his heart skip and his soul ache with the enormity of it. in those moments, he loves reaching down between their bodies to feel where they're joined, to appreciate the way that his body yields to tommy's cock. when it's over, when he's made a mess of himself and tommy has spilled inside of him, buck always asks tommy to stay inside just a little longer, to keep the circuit closed so that he can marvel at how close they are, at how he isn't sure where tommy ends and where he begins anymore. and tommy is always happy to oblige.

[the-baby-storyteller]

Hidden Injury Dialogue Prompts

Caretaker

“Why are you walking like that?” “Like what?” “Like you’re hurt.”

"Where do you think you're going?"

"You were just shaking like a leaf."

"Want to tell me why you look so pale?"

"You look ill."

"So when were you going to tell me you couldn't even stand up on your own?"

"I heard you whining in your sleep."

“I can tell you’re hiding something.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t hide things from me”

“Whumpee, come here now. I will not tolerate any more of these games. You’re getting your injuries treated - don’t try to pretend like you don’t have any - and you’re going to cooperate quietly.”

Whumpee

“C-Caretaker! H-Hey what are you doing here? And so…close to the med-kit.”

“Please don’t be mad but…I think I’m gonna…” *faints*

“N-Nothing’s wrong with me!”

“Hm? Oh, just a little tired, that’s all.”

“I think I’m gonna turn in early. Do the debriefing without me.”

“Stop prying, I’m fine.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“You have so little faith in me! Of course I’m okay!”

“It’s nothing.”

Whumper

“You’d better not let anybody know about this or I’ll be cutting your pretty little face next.”

“You can’t hide anything from me. Lift up your shirt, I know you’re injured. And I know I didn’t give it to you.”

“What’s this? Is the little bird hurt? How terrible that someone else got to you before I did.”

“You’re about to regret hiding an injury from me.”

“You hid your injury so well I almost have to applaud you. But you’re still in trouble.”

“Caretaker can not know about this. And if they do it won’t be pretty for you, I can promise you that.”

[wileys-russo]

reader being an early bird but less having none of it, whenever she wakes up without reader she goes downstairs asap and just is whiny that she can't get her morning cuddles

soft n sleepy gf lessi bear incoming.

good morning sunshine II a.russo

alessia's body begin to wake much earlier than she was ready, her sleep schedule already dictated by her disciplined regular training routine. however with today being her rest day, the girl cracked open one eye tiredly and was assured by the darkness of the bedroom around her that she did not in fact need to listen.

the blonde stretched gently and blinked sleepily before rolling her body to the side, expecting to land on top of your still sleeping form, but instead was met only with an empty space and a cold pillow. 

ever since a young age you'd forever found it literally impossible to sleep in, and it wasn't for a lack of trying. you were just meant to be an early riser and a sunrise chaser, which was much to your family's displeasure. it meant 5am wake ups on christmas mornings and birthdays, your younger form much too tightly coiled with excitement to give in to their wishes you return to bed for a few more hours sleep.

the habit was even less to your girlfriends liking, the blonde striker your polar opposite. alessia forever valuing any spare time she could stretch out to remain in bed of a morning, always having described herself as more of a night owl. 

alessia's favorite and only way to wake up early when she absolutely had to was always by your side, soft loving kisses peppered across her face, favorite voice singing out a raspy good morning in her ear, nails gently scratching at her scalp as you softly reminded it was time for her to get up.

yet here she was awake against her will at a time much earlier than necessary with both of you having the day off, in bed alone.

with a frustrated and tired groan the blonde dragged herself out of bed, clumsily knocking her knee on the edge of your shared bed as she shuffled toward the closed door, a string of quiet curse words falling from her lips as her mood worsened. 

tucking her hands into her armpits the girl shivered as she opened the bedroom door, hit by a sudden cold draft but far too tired and grumpy to venture back and grab a jumper. instead she made a beeline downstairs kit only in a large oversized short sleeve top which she was unsure belonged to her or you, having lived together well over a year now your wardrobes had merged into one.

though still grumpy at the interruption to her desired morning cuddle plans the blondes bad mood could only hold for another few seconds as she rounded the corner and laid her bright blue eyes on you.

similarly to herself you were kit only in a large oversized top, alessias eyes unable to help but wander downwards as you bent over to grab a mug, a pair of black fluffy bed socks covering your feet as you carefully padded around the kitchen.

having not wanted to wake your girlfriend on her day off you made sure to sneak downstairs quickly and quietly when your internal alarm clock had gone off, intending to spend a few hours sat on your balcony in the warm glow of the early morning sun, perhaps with a book or a coffee in hand.

alessia's black beats headphones sat atop your head, a tired smile breaking onto the older girls face as you did a little shimmy to whatever you were listening to, clicking your mug into the bottom of the coffee machine.

you were silently mouthing the words to the song blasting in your ears as a pair of arms wrapped around you. far from expecting the company you let out a shout of surprise and pushed her away, your phone dropping from your hand onto the counter as you yanked off alessia's headphones, clutching a hand to your chest where your heart was racing. 

"you're gonna give a girl a heart attack less jesus christ!" you stammered out, checking your phone screen was in tact with a shaky breath, placing the headphones down beside it on the counter. "come back to bed." alessia ignored your reaction, too focused on achieving her desired end goal which was to be wrapped up with you in bed under the warm cocoon of the duvet.

"you know i'm an early riser." you smiled as your girlfriend clung tightly onto you, gently rubbing her back as she buried her face in your neck, her arms snaking around you and sliding up the back of your top. "and you know i'm not. we both have the day off and i planned to spend it in bed with you, you're ruining that, don't be selfish." alessia mumbled against your neck, nails gently scratching at your back.

"selfish hm?" you hummed in amusement, alessia simply nodding and holding you even tighter, as if you could fly away at any given moment. the italian would often endearingly refer to you "Il mio più grande tesoro" which after must convincing she finally explained translated to 'my greatest treasure'.

safe to say you melted at the sincere confession.

"i was going to bring you up some breakfast in bed baby, why don't you go back up and have a little sleep while i cook." you tried to offer softly, already confident that you would not be able to fall back to sleep yourself.

"if you came up with me i would already have breakfast in bed." you felt the strikers cheeky smile spread against the warm taunt skin of your neck.

"alessia!" your cheeks flushed red at the comment, smacking her shoulder gently as the taller girl only leant her body weight into you more, once again pulling you even tighter against her. "so you really won't come back to bed?" she pulled her head out of your neck with a pout as you smiled but shook your head.

"i was really looking forward to laying out in the sun." you looked over her shoulder toward the balcony longingly, the small arm chair you'd planned to camp out in already bathed in the gentle orange glow, practically calling to you.

"okay." alessia seemingly gave in with a deep sigh and your heart broke a little at the noise. "can't say i didn't ask nicely." the blonde smiled sweetly in your direction before you felt your body be lifted off the ground and you squealed, wrapping your legs tightly around the strikers midsection.

"less!" you cried out in protest as she walked the two of you out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. "you go this way or i throw you over my shoulder, one way or another i'm getting my morning cuddles." alessia warned tiredly as you sighed in defeat, reaching out to gently wipe the sleep from the corner of her eye with your thumb.

"at least let me get my coffee." it was now your turn to pout at the older girl who shook her head, mumbling something about how caffeine wasn't on the agenda as you groaned, sadly waving goodbye to your early morning sun plans, alessia finally putting you down once she entered the bedroom.

"can i at least open the curtains? i get an hour of sun and you get your cuddles." you bargained , hand already on the faded material as alessia nodded in agreement, collapsing back into bed and tiredly covering her eyes with her arm, lazily gesturing for you to continue.

"can i read my book? is that okay?" you asked the striker who wordlessly nodded, arm still covering her face as she slowly adjusted to the change in lighting. you stared down at the girl beside you in adoration, counting the freckles on her nose which had surfaced after your recent trip together to ibiza.

"cmere please." your girlfriend mumbled impatiently, making grabby hands at you and turning on her side, staring at you through sleepy half lidded eyes. slipping into bed beside her you quickly grabbed your book off the night stand, shuffling closer to alessia whose body instantly wrapped itself around you.

"read to me." the italian requested tiredly, sliding her body a little further down the bed so her head could rest on your stomach, toned arms wrapping tightly around you. "are you going to fall asleep right away like when you claim its my turn to pick a movie after you finish training?" you accused jokingly but shuffled to lay down a little more, sliding your arm underneath alessia's neck and holding the book up with one hand, resting it on your knee.

"obviously." the blonde answered bluntly, eyes already closed as she felt her girlfriends body vibrate quietly with laughter beneath her own. "i love you." you pressed a kiss to her warm forehead, lips lingering there for a moment before you tangled a hand in her messy blonde locks, nails scratching at her scalp as the girl let out a small sigh of pleasure.

you began to read aloud, feeling alessia's body relax and her breathing even out as you did so. even when you were sure the girl had fallen back to sleep you kept reading to her, though a little quieter this time.

hours passed just like that with both girls wrapped up together in bed, bare legs intertwined as the warm sun of a promisingly lovely day shone through the window, bathing them in its gentle glow.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Superstar (Superstar Chapter 1)

I'm no one special, just another wide-eyed girl

Who's desperately in love with you

Give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar

The Reader is thrilled to start a new job at AFC Richmond- especially since it means working with a certain player-turned-coach.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.7k words

Warnings: language (because Roy Kent); I’m a bit rusty so forgive my writing!

A/N: Been having some horribly bad writer’s block in addition to work stress. Thankfully my man Roy Kent helped me finally break through!!!

~

“Well, there she is!” Coach Ted Lasso waved enthusiastically as I parked my car in the staff lot. Next to him stood Rebecca Welton, who offered the tiniest of waves and something of an apologetic smile.

I took a deep breath, my hand hovering over the driver’s side door. First day on the new job: coach’s assistant. Between three coaches, there was a lot going on; they needed someone to handle communication, schedules, and small tasks so they could focus on training and (hopefully) winning. Having grown up just around the corner from Nelson Road, it felt almost like an honor to be part of the organization.

In a blur, Ted had firmly shaken my hand for what felt like an eternity, yammered off about a dozen Lasso-isms that I wasn’t quite sure I heard correctly, and ushered me into the building, all with Rebecca following along, interjecting short corrections and reassurances every time Ted paused to take a breath.

“And this here’s the locker room,” Ted announced with a small flourish. “Now, the boys tend to be pretty modest, the only one you may see too much of is Jamie, but if you just throw a towel in his face, he’ll take the hint.” He opened the door, gesturing for me to follow.

Rebecca touched my arm gently, that tight smile still on her face. “I should be going. But please, let me know if there’s anything you need. You’re in great hands,” she added, nodding towards Ted. “Welcome to Richmond.” With another touch to my arm, she was gone.

I followed Ted into the changing room. A few guys were milling about, still in their street clothes, chattering and beginning to put their things away. They looked up when I entered, offering small nods of acknowledgement. Ted rattled off their names, all familiar to me. I made mental notes about how each one smiled and shook my hand, trying to take snapshots in my brain so I could describe every moment to my family later that night.

After meeting all the players that Ted called “early birds”, I followed Ted into the coaches’ offices, where I was quickly introduced to Coach Beard, who nodded from behind a tattered copy of Either/Or.

“Now, Coach Beard and I share this office,” Ted was explaining. “You’ll be right through here. Hope ya don’t mind sharing!” He led me through the side door to another office. “I’m sure you know this ray of sunshine here is Roy Kent.”

My stomach jumped to my throat as the man in black track pants and a dark Richmond shirt glanced up from his desk. As if I really needed to be introduced to the man whose poster still hung above the bed in my childhood bedroom. Several kits sporting his name and number hung in my closet. Hell, for one birthday my jokester dad even got me a cardboard cutout of the man. It currently sat folded in the back of a closet in my flat, but it often made an appearance in my living room when I hosted game day parties with my mates.

I was pretty sure if I dug far enough in my parents’ attic, I’d find my school notebooks with “Mrs. Roy Kent” scribbled all over them.

And now he sat in front of me, staring up at me through thick eyelashes that made me go weak in the knees. A half scowl appeared on his face. “You’re the assistant then?” He offered his hand.

I nodded, praying that neither coach could see my body trembling slightly as I reached out to shake Roy Kent’s hand. “I- I am.”

Ohmygod ohmygod I’m shaking Roy Kent’s hand I’m touching Roy Kent Roy Kent spoke to me Roy Kent is looking at me ohmygod ohmygod.

It felt far too soon when he let go of my hand. “Well, as long as you keep your shit off my desk and don’t wear any rancid perfume, we should be fucking fine.” He nodded behind him toward an empty desk. “That’s you.” Without another word, he stood up, grabbed the notebook he had been drawing in, and left.

Ted beamed at me. “Well now, that went great! That’s about as charming as you can expect Roy to be, so count yourself lucky. Now, why don’t you get yourself settled and we’ll see you in the locker room in about ten minutes?”

~

“D’you like kebabs?”

I turned my head, pausing my fingers above my keyboard. “Excuse me?”

With a giant sigh, Roy swiveled around in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Kebabs. D’you like ’em?”

“Uh, I guess.” I scrunched my nose as I stared at him. After two weeks of working for Richmond, this was the first time Roy had spoken to me so directly. Up until now, it had been mostly grunts and growls in my general direction. But, after years of watching him on the pitch, I knew by the look in his eye that he didn’t hate me- at least, not any more than he hated the rest of the world. And that was fine enough with me.

“You guess?” There was that scowl. “You either fuckin’ like ‘em or you don’t.”

It took all my strength to suppress my grin. God, he was just as gorgeous as when I used to watch him play on the television. “Fine, fine. I like kebabs.”

With a suddenness that almost made me jump in my seat, Roy stood up. “Okay.” Without another word, he walked out of our office.

About twenty minutes later, a Styrofoam container slammed onto my desk. I looked up at Roy, who towered over me, a plastic bag clutched in his fist. He glowered at me.

“Thanks, Roy,” I managed, opening the box. Sure enough, kebabs. I smiled up at him, but his eyes were scanning my desk.

“That your family?” He pointed at a frame that held a photo my family had taken during a camping trip.

“Oh, yeah. My folks and brothers. They live not far from here. We grew up huge Richmond fans.”

His eyes continued to roam my work area. “What, no pictures of your boyfriend? Is he fuckin’ ugly or somethin’?”

My cheeks heated up. “No boyfriend.” Somewhere inside me, boldness surged forward. “What about you? I don’t see your model of the week on your desk.”

He smirked. Ohmygod he smirked. “I’m too fucking old for that shit now.”

“Uh huh.” I couldn’t make myself say anything else. All I could see was that smirk, and those brown eyes. Until I realized he was waiting for me to say something. Speak, you idiot! “I like kebabs,” I blurted. Shit.

The smirk softened slightly. “So I heard.”

For a moment he just stood there, smiling down at me. Then he cleared his throat, glancing at the bag in his hand. “Don’t tell anyone I got you lunch. They’ll be trying to make me some fuckin’ errand boy if they find out.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

With a small hmmf, Roy nodded and headed back to his desk. I smiled down at the container on my desk and returned to my work, ignoring my burning cheeks.

~

“What does Jamie Tartt smell like?”

“Is the gaffer really like that in person?”

“Did you pass out when you met Roy Kent?”

Swallowing the bite of pasta I had been chewing on, I grinned at my family. “Tartt wears a homemade combo of Tom Ford, Dior, and Juicy Couture that he calls ‘Tartt by Tartt’. Coach Lasso is exactly what he seems. And Roy Kent…”  I cleared my throat and prayed my face wasn’t completely red. “He’s fine.” My voice cracked slightly. “We, uh share an office. He got me kebabs for lunch last week.”

“Come off it,” I scoffed. “Or else I’ll take back those VIP tickets I got you for your birthday.”

“Ooh, Roy Kent bought you kebabs?” my dad hummed, grinning at me pointedly. “My future son-in-law, the football superstar.”

Before my dad could retort, the doorbell rang. I jumped up, relieved to have a distraction.

“I’ve got it!” I just about sprinted down the hall to the front door, confident it was our elderly neighbor asking to borrow the spare key, as she did at least once a week. Instead, when I threw the door open, I found Roy Kent on my parents’ front porch.

“We should really put a fucking tracking device on you,” he grumbled as he moved past me into the entryway.

I stared at him, closing the door. “Um, not to be rude, but why are you here? At my mum and dad’s house?”

He shoved a manila envelope into my hands. “Some papers Lasso wanted you to work on if you can this weekend. Said it was important. I dunno, I don’t fucking listen to him when he yammers.”

“Oh.” I placed the envelope on a nearby table and folded my arms. “And how-how did you know where I was?”

Roy wiggled his phone in the air. “You’re one of those idiots that has their Snapchat locations on. You’re gonna get fucking murdered one of these days y’know.”

Right. Ted had made us all join multiple Snapchat groups with him; he was adamant about keeping our streaks.

I couldn’t help but grin. “And you’re gonna murder me?”

“Not today.” A small smirk cracked through that grizzled face. “But apparently if I wanted to, you’d be easy as hell to find.”

“I’ll just have to keep being a good officemate then,” I supposed teasingly. Am I flirting with Roy Kent?!

“You’re doing a fine job so far.” Roy took a step towards me, looking down at me.

Is he flirting back?!

My brain short-circuited. “Um, well I…” I coughed, looking around the entryway, as if I hadn’t walked through it my entire life. “Thanks for uh, bringing those papers.” A question interrupted the high-pitched buzzing in my brain. “Why’d you bring it by the way?”

Roy cleared his throat and took a step back, allowing a respectful space between us again. “Told you, Lasso said it’s important.”

“Yeah…” I started slowly. “But I’m sure it’s something you guys could’ve sent Will to do. Or something Ted would probably love to do, tracking me down to my dad’s birthday dinner. Why are you-?”

“He’s here! He’s there! He’s every-fucking-where! Roy Kent!” Beaming, my dad burst past me and clapped a hand on Roy’s shoulder as Roy stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh hell, Roy Kent’s in my foyer!” He turned and faced me. “I can’t believe you got Roy Kent to come down here! You’re my favorite kid, you can tell your bloody brothers that anytime.” He grabbed Roy’s hand and started pumping it, reminding me of the first time I had met Ted. “It’s an honor to have you here. Absolute honor.”

I finally found my voice. “Dad, Roy’s just here giving me some stuff for work. He’s not here for your-”

“What kind of cake do you have?” Roy’s gruff voice interrupted.

“Chocolate,” my dad answered. “M’wife made it herself. And we have plenty of pasta if you’re hungry.”

Roy unzipped his jacket. “Then happy fucking birthday. Let’s eat.”

~

A half hour later, I was still in a state of shock. Roy Kent was sitting next to me in my parents’ dining room, chatting with my dad and eating my mum’s pasta. He took all everyone’s questions in stride, not seeming to mind how obsessed my brothers were. He only growled at them twice- once when they asked about his knee, and again when they said how much they like Jamie Tartt. Of course, they made kissy faces whenever Roy wasn’t looking, and my mum kept raising her eyebrows at me with a twinkle in her eye, but the dinner was much less painful that I had expected.

And getting to sit there with Roy’s arm pressed against mine? A dream come true.

My dad cleared his throat as my brothers began clearing the plates. “I think it’s time for presents and cake then?”

I stood up; my arm felt cold after having Roy’s arm keeping it warm. “I’ll be right back, gotta go get your present.” I pressed a kiss on my dad’s head as I passed by. “Don’t embarrass me,” I hissed, giving his shoulder a squeeze. He offered me an assuring wink.

I quickly went up the stairs to my old bedroom, not completely closing the door behind me. Since I was planning to spend all weekend a their house, I had just haphazardly thrown all my things into the room when I had arrived after work. I regretted it now, noting that my idiot brothers could be saying anything to Roy while I searched for the envelope holding my dad’s birthday card and the tickets to Richmond’s next match.

I groaned. “Where the hell-”

“Ah, this isn’t the fucking loo.”

I whirled around. Roy stood in my doorway, eyebrows slightly raised as he glanced around the room. My cheeks burned as I watched him take in all the Richmond posters, which disproportionately featured his bearded face.

He is never going to talk to me again, a panicky voice in my head whimpered.

To my surprise, a small smirk formed on his face as he quietly closed the door behind him. “Why the fuck are there so many pictures of me in this room?” he asked, a chuckle escaping his lips.

I cleared my throat and stood up, straightening out my top as I cursed my teenage self for being so obsessed. “I, uh, I told you. My family’s huge Richmond fans. You’re kind of our favorite player. Hence, my dad’s excitement when he saw you.” I winced. Lame, lame, lame.

“So…” He stuck his hands in his pockets, still looking around the room at the embarrassing number of photos of himself. “Does that mean I’m your favorite too?”

Somehow, my cheeks grew warmer. “I… I mean… I guess.”

His eyes moved upward and widened slightly.

Fuck.

“Is that a fucking poster of me above your bed?”

I shifted my weight, wishing that somehow the carpet beneath me would spontaneously turn into a black hole. “Oh, you know, gotta keep the monsters away somehow.” You’re fired. You are so freaking fired for being a creepy fangirl.

Roy let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s what I’m good for? Scaring away fucking monsters?”

With a groan, I covered my face and collapsed on my bed. “Please don’t tell anyone,” I grumbled. “This was my room when I used to live here, I was a dumb kid. I swear to God, my flat is normal. A normal adult flat.”

The bed squeaked as I felt someone sit beside me. When I peeked out between my fingers, Roy was looking at me with a hint of concern on his face.

“Hey, no need to be fucking embarrassed.” He glanced up at the poster that now laid directly above us. “Can’t say I blame you. I was young and hot.”

Despite my inner anguish, I moved my hands and grinned. “You’re not that much older now, Kent,” I teased.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I’m still hot then?”

Before I could come up with some clever retort, Roy cupped my face and leaned close. “Please say yes,” he said softly.

I gulped, knowing he could definitely feel it. “Yes,” I whispered.

He gently pressed his lips against mine, a soft, small kiss that made me melt closer to him. His beard tickled my face as his hand stroked my cheek. Roy Kent is kissing me Roy Kent is kissing me Roy Kent is kissing me.

When Roy let go, a tiny giggle escaped my lips. He smiled at me- a real smile, the one I had seen maybe a small handful of times on television over the years. He opened his mouth to say something-

“Oi!” A loud knock banged on the door. “Mum and Dad want to know if you’re snogging Roy Kent in there!”

Roy grinned at me, still holding my face. “Don’t suppose I can tell your brother to fuck off?”

I wrinkled my nose. “’d rather you didn’t,” I whispered.

“Well then.” Roy stood up, stretching out his hand to help me to my feet. “Guess we should go have some fucking cake.” He nodded up towards the poster above my bed. “You should bring that thing to work sometime. I can fucking autograph it if you want.”

[starry-pierrot]

Our Kits

Narinder hadn't expected his life to go this way but he can't say that having a pregnant spouse isn't something he's come to enjoy. He just hopes he can handle the responsibility. ------ Tw: Lamb fluff pregnancy, birth (Nothing graphic), mentions of fluids, cute newborns.

Characters: The Lamb(NB), Narinder, Bishops, Rose (my oc), Aym and Baal mention

------------ Woop woop! We got another one! This one is based off @doughyfluff 's super cute pregnant Lamb art. I for one an frothing at the mouth for their art and I couldn't help it! Dms are always open to screech at me Marz wink wonk. Anyway enjoy! EDIT: OOPS-Please keep in mind this is only based off someone's comics, it is not a direct storyline nor 100% canon on how they imaged things. Just for fun!

The sun poured in through the window as the night became morning, lighting up the room of the temple in a soft glow. Chirping birds making a fluffy ear twitch before a body in the shared bed began to shift and move. Lamb cracked open their eyes and as gently as they could they sat up and stretched with a yawn. 

Already they could feel their body being more tired than it usually would without the circumstances, but they needed to go and prepare for a ritual. They couldn’t just ignore their duties despite how large their belly had gotten. Some light toast and maybe a meat bowl sounded good, Heket probably has their special order at least prepared by now for breakfast. 

But before they could slip out of the bed Lamb felt warm arms slip around their middle and gently hold their stomach as a warm body leaned against them. “Good morning, mama,” the sound of Narinder's gravely voice sparking their heart to beat just a little faster and their cheeks to warm.

“Eeep! Narinder!” Lamb chuckled as they looked back at him, that third eye staring up to them with an adoration they weren’t ever sure they’d get used too. 

“You’re up early.” Narinder continued. 

“Well…I do have a ritual to prepare for. You know, being the leader and all.” At this Narinder’s face scrunched up in displeasure, usually he would be just fine with handling any cult business but lately he’s been quite more favorable to just stay in bed. 

“Don’t bother, it's a Holy Day.” Narinder moved with them as they stood up, his arms wrapping ever tighter around them. Kisses on their neck to tempt them to stay in bed. 

“You know I can’t do that.” Lamb tried to pull away to get away before they were trapped, a smile on their lips before another yawn took over. 

Suddenly their cat began to purr. “You are their god,” his hands began to run along their pregnant belly as the purrs only increased in volume, “and as your high priest I request a Holy Day.” His fingers rubbing little circles into their soft wool, “And as your husband I demand more bedtime.”

Lamb tried so hard to ignore him, tried to move away but those bastardly hands were keeping them right where he wanted them. Then a little nibble to their ear finally made them sigh and sag back against the warm body behind them. “Alright alright!” They laughed as they were gently dragged back into the bed, covers pulled over them. “I suppose another hour wouldn’t hurt.” 

Soon the two were back in a tangled web of limbs and pillows, Lamb quickly fell asleep but Narinder seemed to rather be enjoying just holding them. Looking at them as they breathed deeply, safe and warm in their bed. Looking down he could see the bump showing through the blankets and an ever more loving smile came across his face. 

Never had he thought he’d end up like this. The High Priest of his usurpers cult, his own brood on the way and he even had his family here with him. They were all so different from back then. Back when they had all hated each other. And he had the Lamb to thank for that. 

When he had first learned that the Lamb was pregnant he was excited! But also incredibly nervous to the point that he had asked Shamura for every single book they had on raising children. 

“I am to assume Lamb is with child?” Shamura had asked him, despite his injuries he seemed to be quite cognizant at times. 

Narinder of course didn’t expect Shamura to realize it so soon, feeling his cheeks heat under his fur. “....yes.” 

“Oh happy day.” 

Every night he had been reading at least one book before bed, Lamb had thought it was adorable and teased him little about it. 

But as time went on he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be ready enough for them. He of course did what he could and tried his best, through the morning sickness, crusade mood swings and even that first kick the Lamb felt. That had been one of the best days of his life. 

Though if he was honest with himself he was nervous. Scared. Could he raise his kits? Would he be a good parent? What if he did something wrong? All fears the lamb insisted were unfounded. He had to trust them right?

And as he began to feel his eyes droop he couldn’t help but think that at least Lamb would be with him. He wouldn’t be in this alone like with Aym and Baal.

He was in love. His family was back in his life. 

He wouldn’t be alone.  

—---

The weather was nice and cool as Narinder went to Mess Hall to pick up dinner for himself and the Lamb, they were getting much closer to their due date and he didn’t want them to walk if he could help it. A chuckle passed his lips thinking about how big they’ve gotten, it was a little comical with how small they were, often pouting about not being able to move as well as they used to. Narinder however thought it was adorable and took every chance to pepper that belly with kisses and purrs. 

Walking in he quickly slipped into the back, Heket was working on cleaning up and only gave him a glance in greeting. “Are these the ones?” he asked her. 

Heket gave a little sound of annoyance, “Yep…..how’s…lamb?” She asked while she washed the dishes, she had also been one to guess what was going on early. Considering the lamb had been taking more food , which had displeased her.  

“Annoyed about being in bed all day but doing fine. They have been requesting more meat bowls with those spices you like to save.” The Lamb had begged Narinder to ask Heket for more, though Heket usually liked to keep those special spices to herself. 

A huff as the frog rolled her eyes, “Only….because they’re…gravid.” She agreed, “I’ll make…some for…late night snacks.” Heket was amused at just how demanding the Lamb could be sometimes. Of course they were polite about it but even she could tell if she ever said ‘no’ there would be hell to pay. Not that she’d deprive a pregnant lamb of food. 

“Thank you, sister. You can just leave them here and I’ll pick them up later.” Narinder picked up the bowls and made his way back out the door, his tail giving her a short pat on her back on his way. It didn’t take him long to get to the temple, the large building quiet as he stepped inside. 

Though with his sensitive hearing he could hear what sounded like panting, the ear flicking as his brows scrunched a bit. Quickly moving up the stairs he gently pushed open the door that led to their bedroom, “Lamb, I’m back with the food. Heket said she’ll make you more of those spic-” he stopped. 

Lamb was sitting on the side of the bed, their legs spread and their tunic wet and dripping. They looked at him with a bit of a chuckle, “H-hey, Nari. Um…my-uh-my water broke.” Oh how they had the composure to look shy he would never know. 

“How long ago?” 

“Um-about an hour-ow!” Suddenly a wince had Narinder's fur puff out. Placing the food on the dresser he wasted no time in suddenly scooping the lamb up into their arms. 

“Wh-Narinder!” Lamb squeaked. 

“We’re going to the medbay. Now!” Oh he was not ready for this. Sure he’s read all the books he could find but actually being in this situation was not something he was mentally prepared for. What did the books say? It could take up to a couple of hours to a whole day for labor to actually begin to start but sometimes it could also start sooner than that. Before he knew it he was walking through the medbay tent, “Kallamar!’ 

The squid jumped at the shouting of his name, almost dropping a syringe, “Narinder how many times have I told you not to yell in the-oh dear.” The squid quickly put what he was doing down, telling an assistant of his to continue as he rushed over. “When did their water break?” 

“About an hour ago.” Narinder responded for them, Kallamar took a quick look over before bringing the both of them over to a bed to sit the lamb down on. 

“Any contractions?” Kallamar asked. 

“M-maybe? It uh-just feels like cramps.” Lamb answered. 

Kallamar hummed, “You might be having some Braxton Hicks. If it’s only been an hour it might be too early just yet.” Gently the squid felt around their abdomen, ignoring the slight hiss from Narinder, “Are they constant or coming and going?” 

“Coming and going…I uh-haven’t felt one since Narinder picked me up.” 

Pulling away Kallamar hummed once more, “Alright it seems you’re in the very early stages. You could stay here for now but I recommend getting a good walk in to maybe help it along.” 

“Wait, that's it?” Narinder asked as he looked at Kallamar confused. 

“That’s it for now. There's nothing we can do until they’re in active labor. It could take a couple of hours for their body to prepare. Just come back when you have constant cramps, but maybe don’t stray too far from the medical tent. I’ll alert my nurses to check in on you every once in a while.” Though the squid took one more look over the Lamb, “…maybe we should change them out of that soaked tunic first.” 

After a quick change of clothes Narinder and the Lamb were walking about the cult. With Narinder carrying them out in a soaked tunic earlier it didn’t take too long for word to get around that the Lambs child might be born soon. Though it seems the cult has a good mind to keep their distance for the time being. Leshy however-

“So whatya gonna name it?” the worm asked, “Better be something cool. Only a dork like Narinder would choose something lame.” 

“Leshy.” Narinder growled out, “I think Lamb would appreciate-” 

“He’d pick something like Nemo. Or Orion.”

Lamb couldn’t keep the smile off their face as Narinder just sighed, his hand rubbing their lower back. “We haven’t picked one yet. I want to meet them first.” 

“Going for the personality check then. Sweet. I call dibs on being the first uncle to hold them.” The worm’s leafs shook in excitement, “Gonna teach them all the cool diggin’ holes-” 

“You are not going to teach our child to be a menace like you.” Narinder cut in, ears folded back. Oh how he loved his sibling but if the kid turned out anything like him he was sure he’d be doomed as a parent. 

“You know damn well it would be boring without someone like me around here!” Leshy laughed, “Come on what kind of uncle would I be if I don’t teach them a little something!” 

Soon the two began their usual sibling bickering, not an actual fight but shouting and maybe a shove or two once the Lamb stepped away. Eventually Leshy left the two to go back to his own spouse, letting the two spend their time in peace. 

Several hours later they were back in the medbay, the contractions began to get closer and the Lamb was set up on the bed with Narinder behind them rubbing their lower back. For now they were left in a private room with frequent check-ins by either Kallamar or one of the nurses. 

“You’re doing great.” Narinder quietly said into Lamb’s ear, “You’re doing so good. Going to be the best parent.” 

“Narinder.” 

“You’ve been through worse. I hope they're a lamb. I mean I don’t care either way but I want to see a baby lamb-” 

“Narinder.”

“Just breathe and you’ll be fin-” 

“NARINDER!” Suddenly the crown’s power flares in a show of red magic, the Lamb’s horns growing just a bit more sharp as they look back at him with red eyes. “Sweetheart-”, oh fuck they were using their god voice, “You know I love you but if you keep talking I am going to kick you out and you will wait in the waiting room!”

Narinder stared at them for a moment before nodding, thoroughly quieted by the outburst of their spouse. The crown’s power dissipated and soon the lamb was groaning as they felt another contraction. Well if him talking wasn’t helping then he would do the next best thing. 

Leaning forward Narinder carefully placed his chin on the Lamb’s shoulder and began to purr, the Lamb sighing as they relaxed to the sound. 

Soon however it was obvious the time had come. The obstetrician, an alpaca named Rose, quickly prepared everyone. Originally Kallamar had been the one who wanted to help with the delivery but as soon as Narinder saw him put some gloves on-

“What are you doing?”

“Well I’m delivering the new family member! I couldn’t let just anyon-” 

“You touch them and I will cut off all of your tentacles.” 

Kallamar wanted to argue but seeing that expression on Narinder's face and the threat…well he had given into his cowardice and conceded. However he stuck close by making sure to at least be there in case something went wrong and he actually had to intervene despite Narinder’s threats. 

Leshy and their spouse, Shamura and Heket soon showed up after waiting outside as the contractions became less and less apart. 

Narinder had watched the lamb through all their hardships when they were his vessel, all the deaths, all the choices and how they handled the cult. He knew they could do this even if they were crying and squeezing his hand to the point of possible fracture. He could feel tears in his eyes but blinked them back.

“Push, my Lamb! I can see the head!” Rose encouraged, “Almost there!” 

Lamb cried out as they gave another push though weakened about halfway through it, huffing and puffing. “Fuuck-it hurts-” 

“I know, but you gotta push, you're almost done!” 

With another push Lamb cried out, this time trying with all their might. And then a wet sound and a cheerful cry, “You did it!” Quickly Rose carefully took the baby and gently began to clean it up, focusing on the face and nose until a shrill cry filled the room. She had barely wrapped the baby up before Narinder snatched the baby away from her. Gently of course. Kallamar kept his distance but was obviously excited to see the child by the way his tentacles anxiously fidgeted. 

Lamb couldn’t help but cry even more when they heard their baby, seeing them only made them sob out. Narinder just about cried out himself seeing that he had somehow managed to create life for once. Instead of taking the life of something he created life. “They’re beautiful…oh so beautiful.” Narinder leaned in to kiss their head, though that didn’t seem to deter the little one from making as much noise as they wanted. 

Not that either parent minded. 

“Agh!” Suddenly Lamb was curling up, their face scrunched up in pain as another contraction broke their attention away from their newborn. 

“Lamb?!” Narinder worriedly looked at them before looking at Rose and Kallamar, Rose quickly taking charge with a nervous Kallamar flanking her. 

After a moment her head popped up, “Oh shit-you’re gonna have to push for me again, my Lamb!” She instructed. 

“Again!?” Lamb, Narinder and Kallamar all asked out in surprise. 

“Someone’s getting a sibling!’ She happily told them, “Now push.” Lamb looked at Narinder in surprise before another contraction hit and they pushed, once more crying out. Soon another small body slipped out with a wet plop and just like before Rose was quick to act. 

The room soon was filled with two crying newborns. The second child was handed off to the lamb and Narinder just couldn’t help it anymore. A sob broke out of his throat as the tears he had been holding back finally began to stream down his face. 

“Oh Narinder…” Lamb mumbled as they saw their husband cry like a child because of his own children.

Discreetly Rose and Kallamar slipped out after a quick look to make sure there wasn’t a third, though she had to tug the squid along. 

Narinder hiccuped as he scrubbed at his eyes, but the tears kept coming, “T-twins…we ha-have twins!” It was awfully familiar to him as he once had to raise Aym and Baal on his own, though this time he hopes he does a better job. 

“N-no wonder I got so big…” A chuckle as they thumbed the little ones forehead, the newborn’s cries soon turning to hiccups. And once one began to calm down so did the other. 

“They're beautiful. I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful…not even as a god.” Narinder whispered as he carefully slipped into the cot next to Lamb. Using his right arm to wrap around their shoulders as they moved closer. “What should we name them?” 

Lamb took a good look at the two newborns, they both seemed to be a mix of themselves and Narinder. Though one seemed more cat-like and the other more sheep. One even had Narinder’s three eyes. “...you know I like the name Lilith.” 

“Lilith?” Narinder seemed to think about it in his head for a moment, “It is a lovely name. And maybe.. Dantalion for the other one?” He asked just before leaning in and kissing the newborn’s head. 

“I think that would be perfect. Perfect names for the perfect kits. Our kits.” An exhausted smile rested on the Lamb’s lips. 

“Our k-kits.” Another sob from Narinder made Lamb chuckle and lean over to give him a sweet kiss. 

“Our kits.” 

[bug-memory]

Muriel Kickstarter is a Go!

Losing my. Mind. But I hope it goes well.

The kits seem popular already so, if those sell out, I will add more!

I have some early bird specials on the kits so please take a look!

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Scorchplume padded into camp in the early hours of dawn to find it entirely empty. She frowned, looking around at the swaying grass, and wondered where everyone had gone. Her stomach twisted nervously. Had they decided to move on without her? 

She poked her head into Goldenstar’s den and found it empty. She tried the healers’ den and found Sagetooth organizing herbs in the back of the den, humming to herself. Scorchplume stepped up beside her and watched the herbs as they sorted themselves into the various storage nooks, mesmerized by their fluid movements. 

“Where is everyone?” she asked. 

Sagetooth twitched her ear and said, “In the nursery. Didn’t you hear?” 

“No, I hadn’t,” said Scorch. 

“Well, they’ve been waiting for a while, you should hurry up.” 

“Oh,” Scorch frowned. How could she have forgotten? “Alright.” She stepped out of the healers’ den and directly into the nursery where Mystique sat curled around five squirming kittens. Beside her, sat Razor, who looked up as Scorchplume entered and smiled in an unnervingly kind manner. 

“There you are,” he purred. “Come on, we’ve been waiting for you.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said instinctively. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She stepped up close and settled beside him, tail curled tightly around her paws. 

“Oh, not at all,” he said, leaning against her shoulder and wrapping his tail around her back. “Aren’t they beautiful?” Scorch lifted a brow and looked down at the kittens, each one a ghostly white tabby. She had never cared much for kits and these ones weren’t exceptional in any way. 

She shrugged. “I guess? All kits just look weird to me.” 

“Don’t say that,” Razor smiled and, despite his completely innocent tone, something unpleasant spiked inside her. “You know, I was thinking, since Mystique doesn’t want to keep them, maybe you and I could raise them.” They were sitting in the corner of his garden and the wind rustled the leaves of the bushes like the sound of birds chattering an alarm. 

“Don’t you want them?” asked Razor. 

“Don’t you want them?” asked Mystique.

“Don’t you want them?” asked Goldenstar, sitting in Razor’s place.

Scorchplume snapped awake, paw pads clammy with sweat. Her fur clung suffocatingly to her sides, trapping the heat of her own fear against her body. Beside her, Goldenstar stirred, disturbed by her sudden movement and heavy breathing. 

“Hey,” she said, voice bleary with sleep, “what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Scorchplume lied, “Go back to sleep, you moron.” Goldenstar squinted in concern and shifted to lay on her side so she could face Scorchplume more fully. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me but you can if you want.” Scorch felt some emotion squirming within her throat. 

“I’m fine, really,” she laughed convincingly. “I just need to make waste. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Goldenstar said, sounding unsure but incredibly sleepy, and settled back into the nest with a yawn. Scorch didn’t know what to do with the fondness that image invoked in her so she left it behind like a lump on the ground as she slipped out of the den and into the night. 

Yarrowshade sat outside the elders’ den on guard duty. Fogpaw and Slatepaw were starting to fall asleep over their meal. Barleybee and Aldertail were just returning to camp with new fresh-kill. 

Scorch watched how the two hunters laughed easily, whispering a shared joke. Aldertail smiled and glanced away and her eyes fell on Scorch and the smile faded into a look of mild surprise. Scorch swallowed. Aldertail smiled again, this time with her brows pushing together into an uncertain furrow, and raised one paw in greeting. 

The gesture was not lost on Scorch. This must have been the first time Aldertail had held her gaze. She swallowed again, tightly, and turned away, skulking off into the grass to do her business. When she came back to camp, the only cat left outside was Yarrowshade. He looked up at her as she passed and offered her a casual smile. 

“Hey,” he asked, “how’s it going?” 

“Alright,” she shrugged, padding closer. “I’m guessing you’re bored out of your mind?” 

“So bored,” he groaned. “Guard duty is the worst. Mind sitting with me for a while?” 

Scorch hesitated. She could easily say no. It wasn’t like sitting on guard duty was any more appealing to her than it was to him. But she could still taste that strange emotion and as long as the taste was in her mouth, she wasn’t eager to go back to the den. 

“I suppose so,” she shrugged again and sat down next to him. She glanced over his shoulder into the darkness where Mystique lay, and said, “How has she been lately?”

“Sulky,” Yarrowshade whispered. “She doesn’t do much but eat and sleep these days.”

“I guess that’s pregnancy for you,” said Scorhcplume. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Or she’s still hung up on Raz- uh.” He stopped himself halfway through the name. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Scorch lashed her tail a bit. “I’m so sick of people walking on eggshells around me.” 

“I get that,” Yarrowshade sighed. “It was the same kind of thing when, uh,” he looked like he was about to censor himself again but her expression seemed to make him think twice, “when Nightfrost died.” Despite continuing, his voice was softer than it had been. Scorch pushed down the wave of jealousy that reverent tone resurfaced within her. She hated how clearly upset he still was and she hated herself for hating him for his grief. 

Yarrowshade, unaware of the conflict inside her, continued. “It’s like, I get that they’re trying to be nice but being handled with kitten paws is so annoying. Like, I’m a grown cat, not a little baby.” 

“Exactly,” Scorchplume found herself agreeing with him. “I hate how any sign of discomfort brings out a series of guilty looks and ‘are you okay’s. It’s demeaning!” 

“Yeah,” nodded Yarrowshade, smiling a little. “Why can’t they just let us bury our emotions deep, deep down where no one will ever find them?” They both laughed and then fell into a somber quiet, looking at their paws. Scorchplume took a slow breath and let it out with a huff as she glanced sideways at him. There was a longing between them, a desire for connection she was too broken to indulge. 

“I had a dream that Razor wanted to keep Mystique’s kittens,” she confessed in a half-hearted attempt to indulge it anyway. “Like, we would raise them together.” 

“Oh, gross,” Yarrowshade frowned. “That sucks, man, I’m sorry.” 

“It was pretty sucky,” she nodded. “I barely remember it now but he was just so… sweet. It was, like, really unsettling, you know? Like, I thought for a second, did I imagine everything?” She shuddered. As impossible as that was, the thought still terrified her. 

“You super didn’t,” Yarrowshade said. “I only met the guy once but he was the worst. The way he spoke to Nightfrost made me want to cut my own ears off.” 

Scorch let out a breath with the tone of a laugh. “Yeah. Good riddance.” She ruffled her fur, trying to shake off the feeling of his nose on the back of her neck. She wondered if she would ever be able to escape the lingering ghost of his touch and realized a second too late that tears were starting to fall down her cheeks. She glanced sharply at Yarrowshade, tensing for the unbearable sympathy she knew was coming. 

Yarrowshade’s mouth was drawn into a thin line as he watched her but he didn’t say anything. He just sighed and leaned over to rest his head on top of hers, looking out over the camp as if they were just enjoying the night air. Scorchplume sobbed and leaned into him, overwhelmed with gratitude and misery at the same time. Yarrowshade laid his tail over hers. 

The evening was cold against her cheeks, quiet, and still. Distantly, an owl called in the night. Scorchplume thanked whatever higher power there was, StarClan maybe, for the fact that she hadn’t managed to drive Yarrowshade away. What would she have done if they still weren’t speaking to each other? She closed her eyes and sniffled and focused on the sensation of her tears evaporating, contrasted by the warmth of his fur against her side. 

“Do…” she started, unsure where she was going. “Do you ever wonder what Goldie sees in you?” Yarrowshade shifted and swallowed. 

He was quiet for a long beat before he whispered back, “All the time.” 

“Me too,” she breathed. “I don’t deserve her.” 

“I know how you feel,” he said and she heard the truth of it in his voice. 

“I don’t deserve you,” she said, chest shaking with an almost sob. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking down at her. Under his gaze, she suddenly felt small and exposed and ugly to her core. 

“I was so cruel to you -” she said, unable to look at him, “I’m so cruel to everyone - but you don’t seem to mind! Why do you still care about me?” 

“I don’t know,” Yarrowshade swallowed, his voice sounding thick with something. “I just do. I don’t think we get to choose that kind of thing.” 

“Well you shouldn’t,” she huffed. “I’m just a leech. Sooner or later I’ll suck you dry and you’ll hate me.” 

“Yeah, right,” he rolled his eyes and she looked up to scowl at him. “Look, we’re all just trying to do what we think is right or best or whatever. I’ve made a lot of mistakes too. People still care about me even if I don’t know why. That’s just… what it’s like to be feline I guess.” 

Scorch sniffed pathetically and said, “Well, being feline sucks.” 

“That’s for sure,” he nodded. “But we are what we are. Might as well keep doing what makes us happy even if it doesn’t make any sense.” Scorch hummed reluctantly. She could see the logic in his point but it didn’t make it easier. 

“I guess,” she shrugged. Inside the elders’ den, Mystique shifted, bell jingling gently, and Scorch’s entire body tensed. She looked over her shoulder, worried she had been overheard, but Mystique’s eyes were closed and her swollen sides heaved evenly with her breath. Scorchplume sighed. 

“Why don’t you go back to bed,” said Yarrowshade. 

“Yeah…” Scorch groaned reluctantly. “I should.” 

“Maybe we can go hunting when I’m off duty,” he suggested with a casual shrug. 

“Yeah, maybe,” she stood and settled her fur. “We’ll see.” 

“Goodnight, Scorch,” he said with a little smile.

“Goodnight, dummy,” smiled Scorchplume. He grinned wider and she chuckled a little as she turned and headed back to Goldenstar’s den. As she settled back into the nest, Goldenstar stirred again and, upon finding Scorch beside her, hummed blissfully and wrapped her arms around Scorchplume’s neck. Scorch rolled her eyes and let herself be pulled into a cozy embrace. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on sleep, and with Goldenstar wrapped around her, she quickly dozed off again, this time into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

[griffin-girl-r]

Can you write a blackhill x daughter!reader where reader and Kate are dating. One day Kate sneaks into readers bedroom window really early in the morning injured from her late night mission the night before. Reader helps patch her up and then Natasha and Maria walk in on them kissing. Being the protective parents they are they give Kate “the talk” about not hurting their daughter and making sure reader stays safe and out of harms way of Kates little hero life.

I wasn’t sure if you write fics where reader is dating someone so I understand if you decide to not write this.

The birds and the birds

Created: 16.10.2023

Finished: 17.10.2023

Edited: 17.10.2023

Age: 24

Word count: 1,514

Warnings: Injury, Cussing, Embarrassment

Request: Yes (Tumblr user)

Pairings: Kate Bishop x Female!Reader, BlackHill

—

It was early in the morning when you turned around on your other side in sleep, allowing a soft sigh to escape your lips.

The compound was enveloped in silence as everyone was peacefully sleeping.

Everyone except one person.

"Ah, fuck!" A loud groan was heard as the window of your bedroom swung open

"What in Fury's name?" You mumbled confused, angry that your peaceful slumber had been disturbed

You slightly raised your head and looked in the direction of the sound and there, you found your girlfriend, clinging to her arm.

"Hi, honey!" Kate greeted you, supporting her side to the wall she bumped into earlier

"Katie, what are you doing here?" You asked, sitting up, now fully awake

"I just came to visit my girlfriend." Kate nodded as if to convince herself of what she was saying "Is that illegal?"

"Not when it's 5:34 a.m. in the morning." You looked at the clock on your nightstand then back at Kate.

"Is that early?" Kate chuckled nervously "Damn, I haven't even noticed. I must have really missed you."

"Come and sit!" You ordered your girlfriend and she obediently complied with your orders

When Kate sat down on the edge of your bed, your eyes went wide when you noticed what was wrong with our girlfriend.

"Katherine Elizabeth Bishop!" You gasped, worry visible on your face, as you quickly stood up

"Y/N Rosalinda Elisabeth Yelena Valentina Ivanova Alina Svetlana Mikhailovna Aleksandra Sofia Romanoff-Hill." Kate stated unimpressed without stuttering in the slightest

"Wow..." You stopped in your tracks for a moment "Was it necessary?"

"You say my full name, I say your full name." Kate determinately stated "Isn't this how it works?"

"I know, but still..." You shrugged defeated

"Did your parents hated you that much when you were born?" Kate asked

"No." You walked towards one side of the room and grabbed a first aid kit "Why?"

"Just asking." Kate shook her head "Curiosity, you know. But, given your name, I wouldn't agree with you."

"Oh, go fuck yourself, Bishop." You chuckled, sniffing a laugh away, as you began to tend to the wound on Kate's arm

"Why don't you do it yourself?" Kate smirked "Coward!"

"First the wound." You smirked back, staring to patch up your girlfriend "Now what has actually happened?"

"I may or may have not been shot in the arm with an arrow on my mission last night." Kate avoided eye contact

"Katie..." You sighed, allowing your shoulders to fall

"I'm sorry." The girl winced when the disinfectant made contact with her wound "I didn't know where to go so I came here."

You smiled and cupped Kate's cheek with your hand.

"I am so glad you felt safe enough to come here first." You quickly pecked her lips "I am just worried that, one day, you would badly get hurt and won't be able to make it back here in time."

"Hey..." Kate whispered, moving a strand of hair away from your face, her eyes full of adoration "I will always come back to you, sweetheart. I love you too much not to do so."

"You better!" You chuckled tearfully "And I love you too."

Kate leaned closer and kissed you as you melted into her touch.

It was a much-needed kiss and your hands froze in the middle of the process of wrapping a bandage around your girlfriend's injured arm.

-

The door of your room was silently pushed open and a loud gasp interrupted the make-out session between you and your lover.

"Y/N!" Natasha gasped, taking in the sight before her

"Mama!" You shouted, your eyes going wide

"Kid?" Maria said confused

"Mom?" You asked back

"What is happening here?" Natasha yelled, walking over to you and Kate with Maria hot on her heels

"Uhm... Nothing?" Kate spoke unsure as she realized you both had been caught red-handed

You and she have indeed been dating for over a year now, but given everything that happened with the snap and the wars, you both chose to keep your relationship a secret until the time was right.

Natasha and Maria, that have disappeared during the snap, were shocked to see their little girl, because in their eyes you were still a baby, kissing someone.

"Kate, what are you doing with our daughter?" Natasha was, again, the one to ask as Maria was too stunned to speak

"We were just talking, Mrs. Romanoff-Hill." Kate raised her hands in defence "I swear."

"About what?" Natasha raised her eyebrow "About how to hide from us that you two are dating?"

"What are you two even doing here at this hour?" You looked at your mothers, also raising your eyebrow, mimicking Natasha's gesture

"It's 6:30 a.m." Natasha explained "We always come to check on you first thing in the morning when we wake up and look what we discovered this morning."

"If it makes it better, we weren't hiding." Kate tried to reason

"You shut up, Kate Bishop." Natasha snapped at Kate and the girl could swear that it was as if she heard Yelena's voice "Does Clint know about this?"

"Why are you acting like he's my father?" Kate raised her shoulders in confusion

"Babe, he kind of is." You scrunched your face, silently agreeing with Natasha

"Oh, fuck me." Kate sighed in defeat, looking down at the floor

"I would, but not with my moms in here." You whispered, hoping that your parents didn't hear

Unfortunately for you, Natasha's ears can pick up even on the faintest of sounds and your words resonated loud and clear in her mind.

"No, you wouldn't!" Natasha protested "You barely turned 16 a week ago!"

"Mama, I turned 24 a week ago." You said cautiously "Not 16. And Kate is 23. We are not kids anymore. I had just turned 16 when you and Mom were dusted."

"Is that so?" Natasha crossed her arms over her chest "Then I guess it's finally the time for 'the birds and the bees' talk."

"More like, 'the birds and the birds' talk." Maria spoke for the first time, her eyes staring into the distance "Cause there's no bee in here to sting if you know what I mean."

Maria quickly came back to her senses when Natasha slapped the back of her wife's head full force.

"You're an idiot, Hill!" Natasha shouted

Maria rubbed the back of her head, with tears in her eyes, and winced "I'm trying. Okay?"

"Remind me why I married you?" Natasha shook her head

"At this point, even I ask myself the same thing." Maria kept rubbing her head

-

After an entire hour where Natasha sat down on a chair in front of you and your girlfriend, explaining about safe intimate ways of having "fun" with each other, the redhead let out a deep breath and looked up at Maria who sat behind her, the brunette commander's hands resting on Natasha's shoulders.

"We want to make one thing clear, Kate." Natasha said, turning her attention from Maria to Kate "You have to make sure that our little Y/N stays out of harm's way."

"And away from your little hero life." Maria added, quietly growling at Kate

You and Kate shared a confused look when you noticed Maria's behavior but, at the same time, tried to hide the amused looks on your faces.

"You are not allowed to hurt her." Maria finished her sentence

"Or else, we'll be coming for you and we will find you and boil you to your death." Natasha threatened

"Then we will cut you up in pieces and fry you on the grill as if you were Steve's Saturday barbeque." Maria squinted her eyes, her voice cold

A shiver ran down Kate's spine and she gulped, feeling the knot in her throat tightening.

"Yes, Mrs. Romanoff-Hill and Mrs. Romanoff-Hill." Kate managed to choke out, her face filled with terror

"Great!" Natasha shouted in a cheerful tone as if nothing had happened "Now we'll let you two love birds have some private time."

"But we will keep an eye on you from now on." Maria pointed her finger toward you and Kate

And with that, Natasha dragged Maria out of the room by her hand.

-

When the door slammed closed behind the older couple, Kate and you looked into each other's eyes.

"They were joking, didn't they?" Kate chuckled, trying to hide the fear she was feeling

"I doubt they are." You dragged out "But they're my moms. They are capable of anything, I wouldn't worry too much about them. They're harmless."

Kate shivered out of fear, not fully agreeing with your statement about the commander and the spy being harmless but she had no other choice than to say you are right.

After all, Natasha and Maria had reacted so much better than any of you expected upon finding out about your secret relationship and the fact that Kate had sneaked into the compound injured after a mission.

Kate can only hope that Natasha and Maria were joking.

—

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[bad268]

hii, can i request a pedri fic? pedri always sleeps early and reader is a night owl, one night he tries to stay up late with her but hes really tired and miserable (possibly on the verge of tears) and the reader js takes care of him

The Early Bird & The Night Owl (Pedri X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/FCB

Requested: Clearly (may or may not have written this at 2 AM...)

Warnings: sleep meds (1 time)

POV: Third Person (She/her) (No Y/n)

W.C. 1405

Summary: Her schedule is crazy, and Pedri just wants some of her time.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“She’s a student, of course, she was a night owl,” is what Pedri always told himself. However, with his training schedule and games, he had to be up early almost every morning. Most of the time, he was getting up just as she was going to sleep or right around the same time. It’s not like she slept the entire day away. They had late afternoons together and evenings, but Pedri usually was in bed by 9 PM. That’s when she would start her assignments.

It was hard. Working on a master’s degree while working in an overseas company was difficult, and she had to alter her sleep schedule to keep up with her studies and her job.

Pedri understood. No matter how many times he told her to quit her job and that could help her financially until she finished her degree, she always said no. She wanted to work with this company after graduating, so quitting just to reapply in a year or so is not worth it. Plus, it took her almost a year to get the job in the first place! She did not want to give up the progress she already made.

Pedri understood that too! He had to work extremely hard to get his place in FC Barcelona, and he would never discount the effort he’s seen her put in. It was her dream company, and he knew that once she moved up, she would have a better schedule. He selfishly preferred it to semi-align with his own, but he would have to wait and see. That’s the joy of working for an overseas company!

At the end of every quarter, her company gave everyone a weekend off, so she was able to attend Pedri’s match for once. He did not know until she took a melatonin candy right after dinner. 

“What’s that for?” Pedri asked when he saw her grab one of the candies while he was putting the leftovers away. 

“I need to wake up early tomorrow if I’m going to go with you to your match,” she said as if it were obvious as she ate the candy. When Pedri did not respond, she turned to see him frozen in front of the refrigerator. She giggled as she moved to close the refrigerator door and said, “Not expecting that?”

“Not exactly,” He muttered as he wrapped his arms around her waist and hid his face in your neck. “You’re wearing my kit, right?”

“What else would I wear?”

~~

The next day, they woke up bright and early. It was weird for her to be waking up as the sun was coming up, but she knew she would have to pull an all-nighter tonight or tomorrow to get back on her schedule before Monday. That was a problem for the future. She was going to cherish the normal day she could have with Pedri before having to go back to her normal. 

They made it to the stadium just in time for them to start warming up for the match. She stayed down on the sidelines, and to say some of the players were surprised to see her would be an understatement. Gavi was the most excited to see her mainly because he hung out with Pedri the most off the field and by extension, her. 

As soon as Gavi saw her walk in with Pedri, he ran at her full speed and accidentally knocked her over in the process.

“Oi, get off me, Gavi!” She yelled as she pushed him to roll off her chest. “I get it! It’s been a while, but I did not expect to be attacked!”

“I can’t help it! It’s been forever!” Gavi defended himself as he helped her stand back up. “No work for once?”

“Nope,” She said as they caught up with Pedri on the field. He was busy kicking a few practice goals as a warmup, so she found a spot off to the side to stay out of everyone’s way. “I got the weekend off, so I woke up early to watch my guys chase a ball up and down a field for 90 minutes.”

“The best 90 minutes of your weekend, I bet,” He laughed before being called onto the field. 

She stood off to the side for their entire warmup, taking pictures of her boyfriend (as one does) to post later (or keep to herself, she doesn't know yet). She watched Pedri play against Gavi in a couple of practice defenses. One time when he got the ball, he sliced it left and immediately covered his face, laughing as Gavi teased him.

Then it was time for the game.

It seemed like they had more of a reason to win. Maybe it was because they knew she was there, but they would never admit that. They ended up winning the game 3-0, and Pedri scored the first one. They always had a promise that if Pedri scored the first goal of the game, she would buy the first round of drinks. Sure, he was never happy about it being the gentleman he is, but a bet’s a bet. He’ll take a free drink even if it means he’ll give it back to her one way or another. 

They went out to dinner with the rest of the team, and true to her word, she bought the first round. Everyone had more than come around to expecting it sometimes, but only Gavi knew when it actually happened. He was there when they made the bet. 

The boys had practice the next day because they were working towards the World Cup, so they knew they could not stay out too late. Not to mention they are all pretty early birds, so they were clearing out of the bar by 8. 

By the time they got home, she was thriving. She naturally got a boost of energy when the sun went down, and even though she did not sleep in as much as normal, she felt wide awake. Even after Pedri got out of the shower closer to 9:30, she was wide awake. She was blasting through a paper, waiting for Pedri to emerge from the bathroom, and when he did, he collapsed in her lap. 

She moved her laptop to the side and moved her attention to her boyfriend on her lap. She ran her hands through his wet hair before running across his shoulders, scratching her nails down his back.

“Stop,” He whined. “If you don’t, I’ll fall asleep.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” She chuckled lightly.

“No, I never get to see you anymore,” He complained as he flipped over to face up at her. That’s when she noticed the tears that filled his eyes. Suddenly, she felt so selfish for putting her schooling and work before him. “Our schedules clash so much, I feel like I never get to hang out with you.”

“Pedri, why haven’t you told me this before?” She asked concerned. She moved her hands from his shoulder to hold his face in her hands as she wiped some of the fallen tears. “I would have figured something out if it was getting that bad, but you need to tell me. I can’t know if it’s too much if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s selfish to ask you to stop your education and working your dream job,” He sighed as he looked anywhere but her. However, she was still holding his face, so she brought his face to meet hers as she leaned down. “I don’t want to be that unsupportive boyfriend.”

“You are the most supportive boyfriend for going through all of this pain for my happiness,” She replied as she started tearing up a little bit as well. “I will always take a break if it means you feel better. How about I take all of next week off? We can do whatever we want since you don’t have a match. I bet I could bribe Xavi to give you at least a day off from training.”

“I would love that,” he sighed happily as he closed his eyes and leaned deeper into her lap as if a weight was lifted off of him. “I would really love that.”

“Good,” She whispered as she leaned down to kiss his lips. “Now, get up here. I think it’s time we fall asleep together for the second night in a row.”

~~~~~

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