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astralis-ortus · 2 days ago

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when it's less-than-ideal

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— you can't judge a relationship only based on its good days.

w.count → 0.9k genre → comfort, a dash of comedy at the end warning → chan referred to as chris, babe, my love; reader referred to as baby and babe; kind of sad but it ends well♡ a.n → basically i'm projecting what kind of relationship-slash-communication style i want in a relationship, so... yeah. think i'll be on my own for quite a while, lol. anyways! i also have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop, do check it out♡ ⋆ see masterlist

chris has been acting weird lately, and you don't know why.

you're usually not one to mind—given the way his schedules these days barely even spare the time for him to rest, you understand that your boyfriend is bound to be less like his usual self. you've sat down with chris to talk about it early in your relationship—the expectations, the ideal and less-than-ideal situations, the how-tos, and 4 years in, everything has all worked out just fine.

lately, however,

chris has been acting really strange.

"babe, i'm home," chris' voice softly echoed through the apartment, followed by the rustling of what you could assume is the layer of jacket and hoodie you got him to wear to battle the dropping temperatures of november seoul. "where are you?"

"kitchen!" you chirped, swiftly rinsing off the pots and pans you've been battling against for the past 10 minutes, "i'm still washing the dishes. are you hungry? i made some curry for dinner, it's in the—babe? are you okay?"

the cheeriness in your voice immediately turned into worry when you felt chris' arms around your waist, holding you tight as he allows himself to melt onto you, face buried in the crook of your neck.

after all the years of being at the receiving end of chris' special mix of physical affection, you've naturally learned to differentiate the meaning in your boyfriend's touches—is he just being affectionate? or is he trying to tease you? is he jealous of the interaction you had? or did he sense something and is trying to keep you safe? you have always been able to read chris just from the way his skin grazes upon yours, and so far you've barely ever been wrong,

but god, you sincerely hope you're hitting far from the mark this time.

"hey," you softly called out upon the absence of chris' response, quickly disregarding the dishes to rinse your soapy hands before turning to face chris' tired features, "is everything alright, my love?"

instead of an answer, chris simply leaned onto your touch as soon as your hands came to cradle his cheeks—ones freezing from the cold weather he just escaped moments ago, and only then, you realized just how long it has been since you've properly seen your boyfriend.

how come you haven't noticed the dark, looming shadow in his eyes? or the way his skin had lost its usual glow and instead grew dry with the season? how come you didn't see the way the corner of his lips had grown heavier, or the way his curls you oh-so adored had adopted its long forgotten frizz?

how come it took you so long to properly see chris?

"i'm sorry, baby," running the pads of your thumbs across chris' cheeks, you forced yourself to swallow the lump of guilt lodged in your throat, "i just realized i've been too inattentive to you, and i'm sorry. have you been wanting to talk it out with me?"

and only then, you saw the faint glimmer you fell in love with, peeking between the grey clouds in chris' eyes.

"yeah," despite the hoarseness in his voice, you could hear the warmth returning in the words chris uttered as he nodded, "but i just… i didn't know how to bring it up since i knew you've been dealing with your own stuff as well."

chris quietly exhaled, soft breath grazing your lips when he leaned his forehead onto yours and let his eyes fluttered close, allowing his walls of self-protection to finally crumble as he speaks, "i'm sorry, baby. it was never my intention to let this fester for this long or to make you feel bad in any way. i just didn't know how. i promise."

you know you're not perfect, and neither is chris—but you also know chris has always made it his life mission to make sure you're the happiest you've ever been when you're with him. one honest mistake will never erase the efforts and sacrifice chris has ever made for you, and you'll never let that happen.

"i know, baby," you hummed, lightly dragging the tips of your nails against his scalp when your fingers found the dark locks of his hair, "i don't blame you. i shouldn't have assumed about your condition and let it slip too. i won't let it happen again, i promise."

and you can feel the way chris' shoulder relax at the words you utter,

because just like him, he knows you'll do everything in your power to keep every single one of your promises.

"thank you, baby," chris pulled you into his embrace, completely engulfing you in his warmth while he pressed his lips on your forehead. "i promise i'll try to be better at this too, and thank you for being patient with me. i love you."

it didn't matter how many times have you heard chris whisper those three words in your ears, or how many times have he held you like you're everything that ever mattered to him,

chris will always make your soul feel the most alive it has ever been.

"i love you too, baby," you finally allowed yourself to smile as your arms found their way around your boyfriend's waist, holding him close as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat—

"…babe?"

"…yeah," chris sheepishly nodded while rubbing his stomach, "i haven't had lunch too, actually…"

a protest involuntarily slip past your lips along with the forming lines of frown between your eyebrows, perfectly portraying your disapproval of chris' course of action.

"go sit down, i'll fix your plate for you," shaking your head, you turned towards the pot of warm curry on the stovetop in faux disappointment before you continued,

"and we'll talk about whatever's been stressing my christopher out, okay?"

oh, you can definitely confirm,

the sound of chris' soft chuckle will never fail to bring a smile to your face.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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daxhalfawake · 3 days ago

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FUCK.

So, I knew some of this bc my step-grandmother-in-law got COVID and insisted it was allergies and was dead from a stroke caused by a weird blood clot that they know is a type that happens in long COVID literally 6 months later. And I got COVID last year, despite doing everything I could not to, because my wife's boss came back to work too soon, without testing negative. I was 5 weeks pregnant. My wife's infection involved mostly wheezing and coughing and shortness of breath. I had a fever of 102°, a migraine, bad congestion and a gross cough. We both had the body aches real bad.

My COVID infection triggered essential hypertension (high blood pressure, I'm 30 [29 when I got COVID] and wasn't eating too poorly then, but I do eat better now). My blood pressure was consistently reading at stroke-risk levels and I had to go on blood pressure meds. I've had several other new or worsening health issues since the infection that my doctors have yet to pinpoint the cause of, but we haven't been focused on the cause because I was very sick and the cause wouldn't be environmental.

But on the neurological/brain damage - I got COVID, had 2 miscarriages, then fell into derealization for 8 months so I thought that was most of it but like there are things I never got with derealization before and that haven't gotten better since coming out of it.

I type a phrase I've been using correctly my entire life and then stare at it bc it looks wrong and I don't know why but I can't send it if it's wrong (spoiler: it has never actually been wrong). I've started using words that I haven't used since high school - problematic ones that I stopped even thinking about using bc they were problematic - and I have been horrified at myself despite most of these words having been used only in my own company. I literally have to remind myself that we don't use that word anymore if it pops into my head because my filters are also off now. My eyes unfocus and I cannot get them to refocus. And I use the wrong words sometimes, words that don't even make sense in reference to the one I need - but that one's getting better. I can't remember things like I used to. Like I have memory issues and have my whole life, don't get me wrong - I'm ADHD and I have cPTSD - but this is different. Because I also have a selective photographic memory and I used to be able to walk myself backwards to find things I put in weird places with ease and now I lose everything for way too long and it triggers autistic meltdowns. My brain fog from my various conditions is significantly worse - to the extent that even on my Adderall, my mind will go completely empty while I am in the middle of speaking a sentence and I will lose my entire train of thought and not be able to remember without prompting from an active listener to the conversation; sometimes not even then.

Literally TONIGHT, in the aftermath of an autistic meltdown I was trying to articulate to my wife why I need more mental processing time in the middle of a conversation, and I mentioned that sometimes I'm trying to keep up with the conversation and her words stop being English to my brain. Not being able to understand words is mentioned in this article from Harvard University, and I have been becoming INCREASINGLY AND INCREDIBLY FRUSTRATED with the fact that I "all of a sudden" started having these episodes where someone is talking to me and their words start out okay and then they flip and it sounds like a garbled mess of sounds, not even words.

I just want to remind people that it’s 2024 and we didn’t “go thru a pandemic” we are “going thru a pandemic” present tense. It is still happening. People are still get sick, still becoming disabled, and still dying. Covid hasn’t gone away and I beg people to not normalize getting sick with it.

#uhhh #i guess #i should see a neurologist

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froggiewrites · 3 days ago

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May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside.

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple.

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat.

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

#luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #one piece luffy #monkey d luffy #x reader #op

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nebulousmoon3990 · 1 day ago

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GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

II𓂃› POISON

Warning: Negligence (unintentional), Damian being Damian, violence, swearing, sensitive topics,bad things, spelling mistakes (English is not my first language) and reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), Fem reader!, use of (M/n) for his mother's name, I accept criticism but please don't be rude, everything is fictional!

Two weeks.It had been two weeks since you disappeared, two weeks in which Bruce did and still does everything he can to find you (as the millionaire Bruce Wayne or as Batman), two weeks in which he and possibly no one in the mansion slept properly, two weeks in which guilt gnawed at him in the worst possible way. But even so, Bruce is ashamed to say that in these two weeks he has only been going to his room now.

Could you blame him? Bruce didn't want to go to his room because that would be a way of saying that you died. He refuses to think that way, you are alive, he is sure of it, and he will find you.

However, Bruce's thesis was shattered by his anxiety.

That's why he goes to your room for the first time.

Bruce remembers going there only once, you must have been seven years old, what saddens him the most is that he only went there because there was a problem with the ceiling and that's why you had to change rooms. Your room was on the second floor, a little further away from the others, possibly the room closest to yours was Tim's.

Alfred had to show him where his room was, which made Bruce feel even worse. He didn't know where his own room was! Was he so negligent to that point?

Your room was at the end of the hallway, the only thing that identified it was a guitar sticker on the door, it was faded and dented, possibly having been there for years, wood splinters were visible on the door and the metals on it were very rusty.

Grabbing the doorknob, Bruce hesitated to open it, the logical part of his brain warning that you might feel uncomfortable with him invading your room like that, but his desire spoke louder, gathering courage Bruce opened the door slowly and faced the environment. He was greeted with a sweet smell that reminded him of artificial strawberries, coming from the entire room and Bruce thought that maybe this was the smell you had passed many times.

The first thing he noticed was the appearance of your room, it was smaller than most of the rooms in the mansion. Your bed was next to the window, giving you a view of the mansion's garden, next to the small bed was a nearly empty study table, on it papers and colored pencils were in the corner organized so as not to have a mess, a small swivel chair was there, there were tears and poorly washed stains, but it seemed like you used it a lot. Above the table on the wall were posters of bands and other things, but what caught Bruce's attention was not that, no, it wasn't.

There were trophies, certificates and awards on top of his shelves.

There were so many, so many, that Bruce thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but it soon proved to be true when he approached the said shelves. There were trophies for gymnastics, literature, computing, swimming, there were awards for drawing, music, and even jiu-jitsu.

Each one was accompanied by a photo of you, photos that were supposed to be taken with your family but most of them were with your instructors, it was possible to see that with each photo that there was your face changed from false joy to not even bothering to smile.

The sight of you in the photos made Bruce's heart break, the worst one of all was one that looked like you were from gymnastics, but in this one you were really exhausted. Sweat was all over your forehead, making your hair stick to it, your eyes were a little red and there was a bruise on your arm, you tried to smile but it was noticeable that the smile was fake and to top it off, to break Bruce's heart? You were holding back tears, tears shining in the corners of your eyes so intensely, but you held it tight, so as not to cry in front of the camera.

Bruce felt horrible, really awful in fact.

He carefully picked up the photo and sat down on the chair, watching you. You must have been eight or nine years old? He didn't know, but you looked so young, so helpless, but you already looked so... broken. As if you knew the weight of the world, the weight that life brought.

He straightened up in the chair and looked at the room again, seeing the back of his room where the wardrobe was. Bruce noticed that next to the large piece of furniture there was a box, almost as worn as the sticker on the door, he got up from the chair leaving the photo on the table next to him, walking over to the box and picking it up with ease. Preferring to sit on the bed instead of the chair he opened the cardboard box to find a computer and a pen drive.

Bruce, so immersed in his thoughts, barely noticed that while he was turning on the old device, someone else was entering the room.

“Bruce?” The aforementioned looked up to see Dick. Looking at his son, he realized how worn out Dick was, whether it was the deep bags under his eyes or the messy hair from so much grabbing and pulling. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” came to see my daughter’s room? Came to try to feel less guilty? Came to try to comfort myself in my pain of not having protected my own daughter? Bruce didn’t know what to answer, fortunately, Dick understood this and decided to see for himself. Carefully, Grayson entered the room and observed with interest, his gaze stopping at the same shelves of trophies that Bruce was interested in, the small smile on Grayson’s face disappeared when he discovered the real reason for the trophies being there.

“W-wait, is that from gymnastics?” Dick looked closer, seeing on the table the same photo Bruce had taken, his anxious eyes roaming the entire shelf, observing his every victory in detail. “Is that all of…(name)?”

“Yeah, and all of hers, all the effort we never saw.” Bruce turned his focus back to the computer, the anguish in his words reminding him of his mistake, while Dick sank in guilt as Bruce himself decided to look at the computer’s contents.

It looked like it hadn't been used for a while, there was dust on the computer and the screen was broken, putting the pen drive in the device a folder appeared on the screen, Bruce clicked and the loading screen appeared on the screen, while it was loading Bruce felt his oldest son sitting next to him, watching the computer next to him and as soon as the loading was finished the two men came across photos.

Very, very old photos of you.

Photos of you as a baby at various points in your childhood outside the mansion, there was a photo of you walking while smiling at the camera, a photo of you sleeping on the couch drooling all over it, a photo of you drinking while wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, and many others.

Bruce heard Dick sigh when he saw you, he had to hold himself back from melting right there, you looked so cute with your chubby cheeks and bright eyes. He wished he could be there at that moment, seeing you so cute, taking care of you, being the father he never was.

But time has passed, you've grown up and are gone now.

Bruce shook off his thoughts when he saw a different photo, in it you had the corners of your mouth covered in what he assumed was chocolate, your hands were covered in the same candy, but what caught Bruce's attention wasn't that, but the woman behind you holding you while laughing at your lameness.

your mother

(M/n) (Last name)

He remembers the woman, kind and caring, a writer from outside Gotham, and although it is strange that she preferred Gotham to live in (with so many other cities more protected than it is), she reached her peak of fame, which made them meet. Just one night with her, nothing more, an affair that didn't go ahead and in which he thought he would forget about her, only for a year later she sends him a letter, talking about you, his daughter.

She didn't ask for anything, not even alimony for herself, she just asked him not to interfere in her daughter's life, although Bruce found the request strange he accepted, being too busy with work to care, he didn't give it due importance at the time.

That was until (M/n) died, her sudden death made him bring you to his house, he fought for custody of you with your aunt, but since he was the one best able to raise you, your custody was given to him.

That was many years ago, he doesn't remember you bringing this computer.

Oh.

Do you keep the computer to remember your mother?

The articles were old, wouldn't it be better to transfer the photos to your cell phone? Or didn't you want to? Maybe you would prefer to keep the computer to remember your memories.

Dick shifted beside him, looking again at the immense trophies on his shelf. “We had her here, and we just ignored her.”

“Dick—”

“We had a diamond in the rough, shining brightly for us, and we just ignored it, and now that she’s gone…” Bruce said nothing, there was nothing to say.

Dick was right.

They had lost a precious stone.

And there was no way to get her back.

Three months.

Nothing about you, no clues, no trails, nothing made it even more difficult because the bus you were on was burned, even if it was left there were no fingerprints, DNA or anything else that would lead them to you.

Dick had to go back to Blüdhaven, continuing his own investigation there. Bruce, knowing that he couldn't do it alone (not this time), put his pride aside and warned the members of the league about your disappearance.

Clark, in an effort to find you, published an article in the Daily Planet about your disappearance, but not even that helped in his search.

The members of the League were alert in each of their cities, looking for clues about you, but nothing came to them, not the organization that kidnapped you or your possible whereabouts.

It was as if you had disappeared from the earth.

Six months.

The police were getting sloppy, probably already giving up on the case. Bruce was still investigating, but how was he going to get deeper into the case if the clues that led to you had disappeared into the wind like dust on the ground?

All he had were your desperate calls for help, your messages, but they led nowhere, your device destroyed without its location.

The family had become more depressed, as if something was missing for everyone present, the immense loneliness in the mansion showing who was missing.

You.

One year.

The case was closed, with nothing to investigate, the Gotham police had more problems to deal with than a missing and possibly dead teenager.

There was… nothing.

Nothing to say, nothing to do, nothing to look for.You were gone.

A long time ago.

What they didn't know was that you weren't gone, but you were there.

“Alright, alright, I think we’re done for today, right?”

The iron-tasting liquid once again rose up in her bile, making the blood in her throat gush out of her mouth, choking her.

The room they were in, previously white, was now stained crimson, clinging deep into the walls as it reflected the light from the lamp.

In the corner of the room stood you, chained up like a beast (which technically wasn’t a lie now). You lay still as the toxic green liquid entered your veins, the acidity still biting your skin.

Doctor Magnus was the one in front of you, the man with long black hair and golden eyes was watching you dangerously, the loving attitude that many could see as a father educating his son was nothing more than a facade of sadistic malice from the man.

He disgusted you.

They all did.

All of them, all of them, all of them, ALL OF THEM-

Magnus watched as the syringe that connected the tube in your neck finished injecting the toxin into your veins, with the process finished, Magnus approached you and pulled it from your neck.

With the brutality with which he pulled the syringe, you hissed in pain, your abnormally large fangs showing themselves to the doctor, the protective instinct emerging in your brain. Despite the offense, Magnus just smiled at you.

Stepping away from you, he lowered your restraints making you feel a little comfortable. With his fingerprint, the doctor opened the automatic door, before leaving he stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder, his gaze meeting yours.

“Get plenty of rest (Name)…” the man’s smirk widened, the evil coursing through him making her stomach churn with fear.

"Tomorrow your experiments will intensify.”

Okay, I'm a little disappointed (I was hoping to write one more, but I couldn't add anything without it affecting the next chapter), well I'll make up for it in the next chapter.

Here's the tag list \(•◡•)/:

@daiyanomochi - @amber-content - @wizzerreblogs - @foggyv-oid - @kore-of-the-underworld - @theunknowntravel3r - @space1crow - @shortnsweetsposts - @popursocks - @sugasweettea - @salfishers - @itachisank - @jsprien213 - @infirebaby - @yhin-gg -@h-ib

@bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93

sorry for any mistakes.

Bye

#batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #dc x reader #alfred pennyworth #batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #clark kent #batfam x neglected reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x you #Spidermanreader #Dick grayson #dc comics x reader

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crescenthistory · 2 days ago

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hi there love! i hope you're doing well 🤍 if it's okay w/ u, i'd like to request a regulus fic (are we surprised? no-) with an animagus! reader. maybe reggie and reader got into a fight about something and reader's still holding a grudge. they refuse to change out of their cat (or any animal u choose!) form and regulus is trying everything to get them to change back. ending in fluff probably :D

~🍓

i'm quite alright darling, hope the same goes for you<3 this little drabble is written with the same cat!animagus!reader i've written for reggie so far in mind (whiskers, my love) since she's known to be petty...

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: fem!reader, minor fight (lighthearted), embarrassment, you're petty, regulus grovels, black brothers have poor people skills, make-up, background wolfstar and (judgemental) bsf!remus

"How long has she been like this?"

Sirius was eyeing Regulus funnily, seemingly drawn between wanting to laugh at him and wondering if maybe he should comfort him. Remus felt none of the latter sentiments and all of the former.

"Since our last class on Friday," Regulus replied miserably from where his face was buried in his hands, resting atop his knees. "She shifted immediately after."

"So... for over 24 hours," Sirius surmised.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, based on how Regulus lifted his head from where he was practically bent in half, just to glare at his older brother. "Thanks for doing the maths, Sirius. Not the problem I needed solving, though." Throughout his sentence, his eyes increasingly narrowed at his brother as if his irritation grew with every word.

"No, your problem," Remus volleyed. "Is whatever the hell you've done."

Regulus groaned and buried his face once more.

Across the common room from the trio, a white and grey cat was pettily walking back and forth along whatever furniture it could reach. Its tail was standing up straight, whipping about in annoyance.

Remus poked Regulus in the ribs to get a response. "What'd you do, Baby Black?"

"I may or may not have corrected her in Potions in front of Slughorn, even though she may have been working on gaining his respect all term," Regulus murmured.

The chuckle that escaped Remus was finally one of understanding. "Ah," he said through a smile. "I believe that is what we in the business call a rookie mistake."

Regulus sat up with a jerk, hands moving emotively as he made his case to his brother and brother-in-law, where they were sat on top of each other in a plush chair. "But I've apologised! Profusely, and several times! I don't know what else to do?" The last sentence was voiced as a question, though it was not formulated as one. Perhaps the closest the younger Black brother could get to asking for help.

"Maybe you should give Slughorn a speech about how great she is."

Regulus quirked up at that, eyes zeroing in on Sirius. "You really think that would work?" Remus could have burst out laughing at the lack of sarcasm in the younger boy's voice.

"No," Remus said softly, while chidingly patting Sirius' knee. "Don't listen to him, you lot have the same amount of people skills. Do you know your girlfriend, Regulus?"

"Yes?" Regulus' voice was uncertain, looking between the boys with furrowed brows.

"What usually motivates her to hold a grudge?" Remus prompted then, ever patient.

He was quiet for a minute as he thought. "When she feels wronged. Like when Evan apologised for her 'interpretaion' of what he said instead of for him hurting her feelings, and she disliked him for three years."

Remus nodded solemnly. "And is there a reason she might still feel wronged by you now?"

Regulus' gaze finally fixated on the cat across the room, nodding too as the puzzle pieces slowly assembled in his mind. "I apologised for correcting her... but not embarrassing her. She probably feels like I was lording over her or something."

"Meaning..?" Gods, Remus was really laying it on thick here. The curse of the Black family.

"I should go tell her as much." Regulus nodded and moved to hurry over towards you, swinging around at the last minute to give the two boys an almost-smile. "Uh, thanks Sirius. Remus."

Then he was off.

Sirius turned his face into Remus' cheek. "No idea what he's thanking me for; you did all the talking."

Remus sighed, melting further into his boyfriend. "That's what I've been saying."

Regulus tenderly approached you, sitting down somewhat gingerly in a chair beside the table you were currently parading around. "Hi, amour," he said softly. "Can we talk?"

You just wagged your tail in response, in a fashion Regulus has come to learn means displeasure.

"Please love, I want to give you a proper apology. It would be best to do so face-to-face, no?" He reached his hand out towards you, an open invitation. You stopped for a moment to regard him, but then lightly slapped at his hand to get it out of your face. Regulus decided to take it as a victory that your claws were retracted at the very least – you weren't out for blood.

“Okay,” he said through a breath. “I guess I’ll just… talk to a kitten and look crazy.” Upon your quiet hiss, he amended, “Talk to a cat, sorry. Gods, I’m sputtering today, aren’t I?” That final part you seemed to agree upon at least.

“Amour, I am truly deeply sorry for embarrassing you like that. It was such a little thing, and Slughorn has been so unfair towards you this year. I didn't mean to set you back in your progression with him, though frankly, he is in the wrong there, not you. As am I. For someone who feels like he can go around correcting people, that was quite air-headed of me, yeah? The one person keeping me grounded is you, amour, please would you come back to me? You can give me a proper scolding if you’d like, I can take it.”

Regulus was pouring his heart out, and if he dared to hope, he thought your feline face might have softened. You walked closer to him, seemingly studying his face.

Then, you jumped off the table and ran away.

He sighed heavily, letting his forehead fall down to the table with a light thump. If you were going to keep giving him the furred shoulder, he might just stay here. It was hard work being a tosser who’s missing his girlfriend.

Before he could wallow further in his sorrows, he felt a soft hand be placed on his shoulder. A touch he would recognise anywhere.

His head flew up from the table to look up at you – standing above him, smiling softly and somewhat sheepishly. The hand on his shoulder grew bolder, squeezing, while the other came up to cup the side of his face. Regulus ignored any instinct to cower away and instead happily melted into your touch.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, and he knew he was mostly forgiven.

Emboldened by this new development, he turned in his seat so that his body faced you, slotting you in between his thighs and letting his hands come to rest heavily at the top of your hip. “Hi amour,” he breathed out, reverent. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you laughed, and he knew you knew what. He indulged you anyway.

“Coming back to me.” His voice was murmured, eyes hooded as he stared up at you. “I miss you when you remain as Whiskers, you know?”

“I do know,” you teased. “That’s kind of the whole point, yeah? Make you think.”

He shook his head and leaned his forehead tentatively against your stomach. “A cruel punishment, but an understandable one. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Regulus sighed when your hand migrated to scratch through his hair. “I know, baby. I just wanted to hear you say it. And–” at this point he could hear the blush in your voice “– at some point it just became principle. Too late to back out.”

Laughing against the fabric of your shirt, he moved to rest his chin against you, gazing up at you at an angle that was slightly uncomfortable but definitely worth it. He let a small grin slip. “Stubborn minx,” he whispered.

“Oi!” you chided gently. “You’re in no position to levy such accusations, mister.”

“I can’t imagine loving you more,” he said through a sigh, not even thinking over the words. They were just right, and demanded to be brought up.

If the way your body melted against his was anything to go by, you didn’t mind.

A booming voice cut the moment short. “You two are painfully dramatic,” Sirius yelled from across the room, clearly having paid attention to the whole make-up conversation. “Please never fight again.”

“And that’s coming from Sirius Black,” Remus added solemnly, earning himself an indignant swat from his partner.

“He’s right,” Regulus whispered conspiratorially to you. “I cannot be the most dramatic Black brother, that would be blasphemy.”

“Then I suggest,” you said before giving him a light peck, “you be on your best behaviour from now on.

A grin. “Yes ma’am.”

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inkfire-scribe · 2 days ago

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As a recovering conservative, I might be able to shed some light on this most puzzling of questions, at least from a religious perspective. (And don't get me wrong, there are plenty of non-religious conservatives - the alt-right is liberally (haha) sprinkled with atheists and always has been. But I can't speak with any accuracy on that particular view, so I won't.)

From a Christian extremist point of view, the purpose of their existence is to spread "the Good News" and convert as many people as possible, because anyone they fail to convert will be tortured for eternity after they die and that's a personal failing they don't want to live with. This is born of several conflicting and not necessarily biblical beliefs:

That unbelievers are sent to hell

That hell is a place of eternal punishment

That there is no way to not go to hell unless you follow a specific set of steps or (in more extreme cases) a certain set of rules

That a failure to evangelize MIGHT be a Sin Against God and

That if conversion is not possible then making others Follow The Rules is at least a step in the right direction

With specific issues (i.e. abortion) they very sincerely believe that even a shitty or short life is better than no life at all. They believe that there is a moral difference between choosing to end a life and allowing a life to end (one is a sin while the other is more of a personal failing but not necessarily something that will "stain your soul") and curiously the negative aspects of allowing rather than choosing are glossed over when the person doing the allowing is nominally "protecting the unborn."

It's a complex web of beliefs that feeds into a particular understanding of the world. They see a world in which it is any Christian's moral duty to eradicate sin, not just from their own lives but from the lives of everyone around them. That's how you get mothers who insist they "did their best" while also blaming their own children for the manifestations of the trauma the mother herself inflicted on them.

(This is for the Americans in the audience.) Many of the everyday things in life that extremists consider "sin," like smoking weed, drinking hard liquor, getting a tattoo, etc. were branded as "bad" not by the Bible, but by social movements. In the '40s it was dancing and loud, unfamiliar music. In the '50s, it was laziness and cowardice (aka, being tired and scared). In the '60s it was drugs and promiscuity. A lot of what we're dealing with now is a direct outgrowth of the Reagan era, where the President declared in no uncertain terms that being addicted to very addictive substances was the fault of the lazy, unmotivated, free-loading poor folk who would rather spend their unemployment benefits on drugs and alcohol than on diapers and food. And to be extremely clear: this claim has No Basis in Fact. No reputable study at any point in any country has ever found that people who get benefits from the government are spending their cash on non-essential items in any meaningful quantities.

But it's those beliefs, pushed into the mainstream by religious fanatics and conservative extremists, that guided us to where we are today - a society in which an extremist religious faction are trying to impose their standards on everyone, regardless of faith or creed. They have been told for decades now that they are the victims, that they are under attack, that they have to "fight for their rights". So now they're defensive, combative, and absolutely convinced that they know the Truth.

I can't tell you how to get through to them. I can't tell you how to talk to them, even. I got out because I'd only ever been in due to ignorance. Once someone showed me the data and shared the logic that showed I was in the wrong, I changed my mind. Not everyone will - in fact, most people won't.

All I can say is... if you're talking to someone who believes they have the right to dictate what others can and can't do with their bodies, the most unsettling thing you can do is to point out to them what they're saying.

Because removing another person's bodily autonomy never sounds like a noble good deed.

Here’s the thing I think conservatives don’t understand: I don’t care what someone else does with their own body.

You wanna get surgery or take medication to make you look a certain way? Okay. I don’t care

You wanna ctrl+alt+delete that clump of cells in your uterus. Sure. I don’t care.

You wanna use meds to block a natural aspect of your body’s system? Alright by me. I. Don’t. Care.

I don’t care because it’s not my body

“But what if they regret it?” So? Let them regret it. That’s their choice to live with.

“But what if that baby would have grown up to cure cancer?” Kinda short sighted on God’s part to only put that potential in one baby, yeah? (Also … you can’t cure cancer, but that’s a level of nuance for a different time)

“But what if they want to use that function in the future?” Funny thing about meds: you can just stop fucking taking them and things usually go back to normal.

I DON’T CARE WHAT ANOTHER HUMAN BEING DOES WITH THEIR OWN BODY! I don’t care 🤷‍♀️ it’s not my body so why should I have a say in it?

The choice is not “being left up to the states instead of the federal government”, it’s that the choice is being taken away from individuals.

Why the fuck to they care so much what other people do with their own shit??

#ink speaks #autonomy #rights #human rights #women's rights #abortion #hot button topics #politics #US politics #sorry for the rant #I have some Very Big Opinions on this matter #good luck out there #stay safe #take care of yourself #you matter

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lndsismaeverything · 3 days ago

Text

Asking lnds men help to pick a nail design

A/n : was going to get my nails done next week so...(ㅅ˙³˙)♡ though of what would the lnds men choose?

Xavier :

Both of you where on the couch you where looking for some nails insp but couldn't find any . So you turned to your boyfriend and ask him for some help

" you want me to pick a nail design for you?"

He gladly wants to help but is afraid if it doesn't match your style or you don't like it

Since he doesn't know these kind of stuff , but it can't be hard right? It's just going to be looking at pictures and finding the best one out of all of them for you

He spends about a whole hour looking for a design on Pinterest until he found the perfect one

Something that's really suits you and is cute too

" I choose this one " he showed you , you end up loving it and got them done the next day

You snowed them to him

" these look better on you in person "

Zayne :

Even though zayne is really busy, when you are about to ask him but stop mid way because you don't want to bother him with something this so stupid . He has way more important things to then picking out your nails

You decided you'll just pick something it's not that big of the deal right?

" give it to me " zayne said asking for the tablet your holding. He noticed you been scrolling on that app for the past hour. And noticed how your about to asking him but stop mid way

" I don't mind I can take a small break for these files and documents "

After a few minutes he gives you the tablet back , you looked at the picture he choose for you

" it's simple but still elegant... It would look every good on you "

Rafayel :

Rafayel would love helping you pick out some nails design for you

But he would like enjoying designing one for you better

" you want me to pick a nail design for you?"

" yes"

" I have a way better idea. How about I despite one for you? One that stands out from the rest of them. "

He quickly grabs his sketch book and some colored pencils and design your nails

He ended up finishing within a day... Yea a day because he was going all out

After he showed you the sketch, he insisted on you bring him with you to the nail salon. Because he wants to make sure they get the colors correctly

It took the nail artist a full 5 hours on doing your nails because of your boyfriend nagging about how it's the wrong color and how the shape isn't right

" no that's the wrong shade"

" hold on , it isn't straight "

You apologize sincerely to the nail artist and swear you wouldn't bring him again. Or you let him do your nails at home

But you ended up loving them since they have personal touches that reminds you of him

Sylus :

When you first ask sylus to help you out , he didn't really get them, but decided to help you pick a design

" sure sweetie, I don't get why you get them thought. I guess kitten like to get her claws well maintained "

Sylus took in the task every seriously, asking you question if you like pastels, charms, gems etc

You said anything is fine " as long as you pick them "

It doesn't take long for him to pick a design for you

" here kitten, this one would look nice "

After you get them done and showed your nails to sylus. He ended up getting why you get your nails done.

It's because it's pretty and it really suit you . Or he just liked it because he picked it out for you .

Now he's going to pick every nails design for you when you want to get your nails done

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xaverie · 2 days ago

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So. I love Evan Kelmp. And - imagine that I'm trying to choose my words carefully here.

I've been getting annoyed with him over the last three episodes. Because. I don't like how he tends to impose his beliefs. About what is correct and should happen. On the other characters. And our Black characters, specifically. Which. Was really put on clear display by his interaction with The Qohlye.

Evan seeks to be understood. But I don't think he has.. put in the required effort to reach that same level of understanding with his friends, or in general. Perhaps because they haven't said things in the exact way that he needs to hear them. But he behaves as though he does understand, even though I personally think. That there are things he's missing.

The treehouse conversation. Lots of people seem to get and relate to Evan's side of the convo, which is fantastic! But not as deep an understanding of Jammer's side. Evan decides that the correct thing is for Jammer to come out not hide his magical experiences. He jumps to a few conclusions about the reason - first that maybe Jammer was ashamed, then that he wasn't confident it would go well.

Instead of asking for clarification about what "They need me to be Whitney, you guys need me to be Jammer" means, he had made up his mind. Evan likes that Jammer is magic because that is the way in which Evan feels most connected to Jammer, thus everyone should admire Jammer for his magical abilities the way Evan does. And if Jammer hasn't allowed for that it's some kind of rebuke of Evan, of magic, and of Jammer's own self. Therefore the only correct thing is to merge these identities, but really just be the Jammer that Evan knows.

And I'm not saying Evan is wrong here. But in the same way he's missing the fact that Jammer did try to expose his magic in S2E1, but he couldn't prove it because magic is fucking broken. He's also missing how naturally we, as Black people, fall into code switching. Not just historically as a method of survival, but for practical reasons, privacy reasons, or just to keep our peace. To treat that unilaterally as the same thing as a kind of toxic compartmentalization, or hiding the true self (all of them are true selves), was. Kinda. Sad to me.

Not to take away from Jammer's triumphant success on Galamanis or the freedom represented by growing wings, because this is what he chose and I love that he made those choices. But it also represents potentially giving up fitting into his mundane life and dream career, something he had fought so so hard to keep thus far, and destroying 'Whitney'. This, more than anything before it, might be a fundamental shift in identity.

The same way it made me a little bit sad that Evan had assumed Jammer didn't mean "family" literally, when I immediately recognized that of course he did. There has never been a point in American history where part of being Black and being family hasn't meant - we may have to be apart, but as soon I'm ready (as soon as we're safe), I'm coming back for you, no matter what. It is THE very first promise, the foundational truth, or the only thread of hope that tied so many Black families together through all these generations.

So while everyone recognizes what a sweet moment it was, I also hope people feel the gravity and the history behind "I dream of making that space for you." And the weight of how many people must have said that before him. And what a profound act of love it's always been because sometimes that's all we have.

When Evan tells Sam, "I think you are the most powerful wizard," she instantly replies, "I hope not." Evan's response to this was essentially - who were are is true whether we want it to be or not. Which, to be fair, is both consistent with what he expressed to Jammer and with his own experience. What it leaves out is that our hopes are also who we are. And that maybe the same way he mistook her love toward him for general gregariousness, he is still misunderstanding her a little.

While he deferred to Sam on the matter of whether they should pursue the Qohlye or not, I think it was still Evan's (or Brennan's) idea that not only must all four of them be chosen, but that The Qohlye must be the best choice for Sam.

When the Qohlye says 'I think you're only here because you're convinced you need to be the same as your friends,' is he wrong? When he asks why she needs to be chosen by his magic specifically, she can't answer on her own. When Sam was given the choice between Power and Understanding she immediately chose understanding because of COURSE she did. (She instantly replies, "I hope not." I hope not. My heart breaks.)

And yet. Evan insists that she's given the power anyway. Because that's what fits neatly into what he already believes is correct and should happen. He believes in winning and rewards. He believes she deserves that power and that they need it. So even though I know he does this out of love, he doesn't even consider for a moment that he might be wrong.

Because Sam does get the power, she does thank him, and again not to diminish Sam's accomplishment - once again Evan gets what he wants and is proven right.

Except.

When The Qohlye doesn't give him the answers he wants in the exact form that he demands them. Evan decides that this is a crime for which The Qohlye deserves to die. The Qohlye, who helped return him to life. Who has a strong connection to his friends. (Who chose to be Black, which meant so much to Jammer that he cried.) Who asked each of his friends, in turn, if they thought The Qohlye meant what Evan thought he meant. Who demonstrated that he is not (and cannot be) obfuscating something that is apparently obvious to everyone else.

Evan refuses to accept that yes, The Qohlye can give him information, but cannot understand it for him. And Evan is not ready to Understand because Evan keeps choosing Power. Understanding takes work, even (or especially) when it doesn't come naturally to you. And answers will not always come in a clear and concise way. And this makes him so angry that he wants The Qohlye dead.

While Evan always presents his beliefs and demands as logical and rational, his reaction to The Qohlye's refusal to engage on his terms was simply entitled and immature.

#dimension 20 #misfits and magic #misfits and magic spoilers #mismag 2 #mismag 2 spoilers #evan kelmp #whitney jammer #sam black #i'm still samevan #but mostly poly pilot program #I also have thoughts about how some parts of fandom that insist it's better that Jammer has two moms than a single mom #because they didn't understand his use of AAVE and it's more comfortable for them to engage with queerness than his blackness

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fuctacles · 16 hours ago

Text

<< eight | 😺 | ten >>

a little poll while you're here

It's pure torture, sitting in a salon chair. Eddie briefly wonders how women can endure all this treatment and how many of them experience their first homoerotic thoughts under a hairdresser's touch.

The only time anyone is this hands-on with him is during sex, and even then it wildly depends on the partner. His body can't comprehend that it's not a bedroom setting, despite the intimacy of drawn curtains and soft music, and that it is not the time to pop a boner.

Thankfully, Stephanie swiftly distracts him with questions about his interests, which always works on his nerdy brain. The fact that she's no longer massaging shampoo into his scalp also helps.

"I'm going to cut about this much, okay?" she asks after a moment of brushing and D&D talk, holding up the ends of his hair so he can see.

"Sure. There's so much of it you can cut more," he jokes but Stephanie cocks her head, pursing her mouth.

Gods he wishes she'd stop making her lips look so kissable.

"Don't you want to grow them out even more? I think it would look good."

She could also stop praising his hair and overall look.

"You think I could pull off ass-long elvish hair?" he smiles at her mirror reflection.

"Hm..." She looks at him completely seriously, plays with the hair around his face, and traces the line of his cheeks with the tips of her nails. Whatever vision of him Steph is conjuring in her mind, she seems to like it. "I think yes. Absolutely," she decides, but Eddie doesn't remember what he has just asked.

"Only the ends, then?" she asks, backing away so he can release the breath he's been holding.

"Yeah. Just the ends." He tries to nod, but she swiftly taps her comb on the top of his head.

"Don't move your head unless I say so," she scolds him with a played-up frown.

"Yes ma'am," he's quick to agree. It's her kingdom and all that. Also, she's maneuvering sharp objects around his head.

"Good boy," Stephanie smiles again and one of these sharp object might as well have just pierced his heart.

He knows he won't leave this ordeal unscathed.

"Could you dye just a streak of my hair? Some weird color, like red?"

Eddie can see her little smile in the mirror. It's a knowing smirk like she was anticipating that question, and this hint of condescension makes her look hot as Hell.

"If you want red-red and not ginger-red, then I'd have to order the dye," she says, thoughtfully combing through his hair. Stephanie works fast, though, so he's pretty sure she should be done soon. There's another snip of her scissors before she straightens up to look at him properly.

"As you can imagine, there aren't many adventurous metalheads in Hawkins to work on."

"I'll let you know that during longer breaks there are at least four."

Stephanie laughs.

"Your bandmates, right? But are they all as willing to experiment with their hair?" She raises her eyebrow, and she's suddenly up in his face. The counter behind her creaks under her weight and Eddie wonders how nice it would be to feel it on his lap.

"Well... Gareth's been growing it out," he offers.

"If he has anything in mind, let me know," she smiles. "I should probably look more into what's new and hip among kids anyway."

"If you weren't holding scissors, I'd pinch you," Eddie scoffs. "New and hip among kids," he repeats under his breath.

Stephanie rolls her eyes.

"There's a big difference in hairstyles between Hawkins and Indianapolis though, you can't deny that." She straightens up again to wet her comb in the sink. "Close your eyes."

He does as he's told.

"Would you want to be—" his breath catches embarrassingly when her damp fingers touch his chin to angle his head where she wants it. "—a hairdresser in a city like that?" he asks.

She hums in affirmation as she combs through his fringe. A stray droplet falls on his nose and she swipes it away with her finger. Eddie wants to lick it clean.

"I've been saving for a second salon, actually. The prices in the city are crazy though."

"Really?" Eddie raises his eyebrows since it's all he can do right now, considering there's a snip of scissors way too close to his eye. He thinks about having Stephanie up in Indianapolis with him. In the same city, that is, close enough to drop for a friendly visit. He could show her all his favorite places, too.

She hums.

"Do you cut your fringe yourself?" she asks suddenly.

Eddie sighs.

"Does it show?"

"Not really," she chuckles. "You did a good job, honestly. It's slightly choppy, but it suits you, so I'm just gonna even it out and leave it like that."

"Oh. Thank you."

She hums again, snipping some hair by his left temple.

"If I didn't like working with hair, staying here would be torture," she picks up their previous topic. "I got this place shortly before Robin had to move, and I felt stuck in Hawkins without her. But I'm making good money here so I figured I could save enough for a place over there." She combs his fringe again, snips once, and then he can hear a clank when she puts her tools away.

"How much more do you need?" Eddie asks and then jumps when she touches his face again, dusting stray hair from his cheeks.

"A bit," she says, but it sounds like more than that. "I was going to sell this place to add to it, but then Robin was talking about opening a chain, so now I'm training Joyce to take over here. Don't tell her though." She bops his nose suddenly, making him squeak. "It's kind of a surprise and I need time to figure it out. You can open your eyes."

Eddie blinks his eyes open and smiles as soon as he can see Stephanie again. But she moves aside, to reveal the mirror behind her.

"I know it's not much, but is that okay?"

There's indeed not much of a difference, other than his hair being an inch or two shorter and his fringe laying a bit better against his skin.

"Yes, I'm never cutting it by myself," he says, lightly brushing the hair framing his face with his fingers.

"I can totally do it for you whenever you visit," she agrees easily. "Now, do you want some color in your hair anyway? Because I could bleach that streak you want dyed later, but we would have to deal with the roots when you come back."

Eddie hums thoughtfully.

"How light can you go? Can you give me like, a white Bride of Frankenstein streak?"

Stephanie snorts at that.

"I'm afraid not." She purses her lips, gently rubbing a lock of his damp hair between her fingers. "At least not with what I have on hand. Your hair isn't that thick but it's dark enough to be a challenge for bleaching. I may be good, but I'm not good enough to promise it wouldn't burn to a crisp." She smiles apologetically.

"I'll wait for the red dye, then." Eddie shrugs. "No problem."

"Okay. I'll grab the conditioner then, and we should be done soon." Stephanie pats his shoulder and he briefly considers asking her for something outlandish just to keep her working with his hair.

my boyos:

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94

@tartarusknight @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman

@madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system

#these get so long compared to dog boy chronicles im so sorry #crazy cat lady stevie #transfem steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine #stevie harrington #steddie fanfiction #cw: age gap #stevierything

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zepskies · 2 days ago

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Wowowow!! 😍 First of all, thanks so much. You really spoiled me with this review and it totally made my day!

I find it really interesting that this fic is the first one you've read from me, since it's such a "niche" pairing. But I love that you loved it (and my writing 🥰)!! Christmas is my favorite holiday too -- in no small part because of the food! lol I had fun incorporating my family's traditions into this one, and of course, feeding Dean. 😆

Diving into the rest of your amazing (and hilarious) comments below!

(you should know as I'm typing this I am daydreaming about the flan, you should just straight up know that LOL)

Giiiirl, get you some flan! My mom makes it so good. I can't wait for the holidays. 😮‍💨

I am happily being led while pushing Dean out of the way to get to it first. Lovingly of course lol.

lolll I'm dead! I can picture Dean's (playful) outrage. 😂

Not going to lie, I'd be giving Sam a little bit of the stink eye myself. What is so wrong with Dean enjoying himself a little? Besides...give me ALL the flan!!! Sam doesn't know what he's missing.

Right? Don't bother the man on Christmas lmao. Sam ate plenty on this round too, he has no room to judge! 😆

This right here is perfection. It made my heart break for Dean as well as Sam for their childhood, what Dean had to sacrifice at times to take care of Sam, how Sam never realized it before...just so perfectly written and so on point.

Aww thank you. It was an HC of mine that stemmed from bits we got of their childhood, and that one ep where someone was like, "You ever been hungry? Like haven't eaten in days, hungry?" And Dean was like, "Yeah..." 😭😭

I feel like from Sam's POV, he would never have known hunger with Dean around, even when things were tight and they were waiting on John.

Moments like this are worth melting for. 😉 (seriously though, I'm pretty sure I have to call someone to get the wetvac to get me up off of the floor)

LOLL honestly same! Oh for Dean to gather me to his chest in a warm snuggle. 🫠🫠

The whole ending scene just makes my heart glad, especially with her offering to go for a walk with Dean, most likely keeping in mind what Sam said (while Sam is keeping what she said in mind - like I said, perfection!) , but I especially loved the ending sequence right here:

Ahhh you caught what I was laying down there! She cares about Dean's health, but she also cares about his happiness. While Sam's now going to be taking what she said into account and try to have a convo with his brother about it in the future.

Ahaha and he so DOES wear shorts when the need arises! 😏

This was just beyond sweet and it was something I very much needed back when I read through it the first time. (I'm sorry I didn't leave feedback until now! I'm trying to be better about that these days) I love the way you write the Winchesters and this one shot cemented you as one of my favorite writers I've come across in this fandom (as well as a few others 😉).

Aww I'm so glad this little fic could give you some much needed escapism. (It's ok, friend. I'm just grateful that you did!) And that's an amazing compliment, thank you!! I'm honored to be counted as one of your favorites! 😭💜

I definitely cannot wait to dive into the Midnight Espresso verse and get more of these two. You did a beautiful job here, lovely!!! Well done!!! 😊💖💖

I would absolutely love it if you delved deeper into the Midnight Espresso verse!! It's a passion series of mine, so it really means that much more to me that you enjoyed it, as well as left such a heartfelt review. 💕

Get Stuffed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @iprobablyshipit91: Sam making the usual digs at Dean about his diet, and how much he eats, and the reader pulling him aside and telling him to back off as he doesn’t realize how much Dean went hungry as a kid to make sure Sam was fed.

Word Count: 1,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, innuendo, tinge of angst

**This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he's seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk. You glance at him with a smile as you set down the metal pan.

“It is a flan,” you affirm. “I tried my hand at coconut this time.”

“Ooh, tropical,” Dean says, waggling greasy fingers. He wipes them on a napkin before he reaches for the pie cutter, which is usually reserved for his favorite dessert. Although, flan is rapidly becoming his second go-to. The rich custardy goodness is calling to him like a siren song.

“How can I get you to make this more often?” Dean mutters while carving out a generous slice.

Your lips curve. You rest your chin on your hand and lean towards him, earning his gaze. “If I made it all the time, you wouldn’t savor it, now would you?”

Dean smirks. His gaze lowers to your lips, like he’s contemplating some persuasive maneuvers.

“You’d also be 300 pounds,” Sam remarks, taking a sip of his beer.

You eye Sam with a frown. But Dean just laughs it off and cuts his little brother a slice.

By the end of the meal, all three of you are stuffed. Dean groans and leans back in his seat. A gurgle mounts audibly from his stomach.

“Jesus. Are you erupting?” Sam says.

Dean holds up a finger. “Wait for it.”

You give your boyfriend a bemused look. You know exactly what’s about to happen. As does Sam, who’s grimacing.

A few seconds later, Dean does erupt, with a truly legendary belch.

“Nice,” you say wryly. Dean squeezes your soft, thick thigh and backs his chair away from the table.

“Well, since I roasted the pig and you did the rest, I’d say it’s Sammy’s turn on cleaning duty,” he says.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a wan smile. Yours is more jovial, even as Dean’s hand toys with a curl of your hair after he stands.

“I’m gonna shower off the meat sweats,” he says.

You giggle, but you nod. “You do that. I’ll help Sam a bit, put away the food at least.”

Your smile becomes more genuine when Dean drops a kiss on your forehead from above.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is a quiet, deep rumble washing over you. You know what he’s thanking you for: good food, and a small, but warm Christmas.

You reach up and give his cheek a tender touch, before he withdraws and makes his way to the bedroom he shares with you. It leaves you and Sam to collect what’s on the table and bring it all into the kitchen. While Sam does the dishes, you start to put away the leftovers.

Something has been nagging at you all night, though you’ve tried to stamp it down time and time again. You don’t know if it's your place to say something. Especially if Dean doesn’t seem bothered…but it bothers you. And you’ve never been one to hold your tongue.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you begin, even as a small bit of trepidation niggles inside you.

Sam looks over at you. He’s quick to catch the serious note in your demeanor.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replies. You okay? his eyes also ask.

“Why do you get on Dean so much for enjoying his food?” you ask.

Sam blinks. Then he scoffs a little. “There’s enjoying, and then there’s gluttony.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue.

“He ate half his weight in pig,” Sam says. You can’t exactly deny that, but you cross your arms and turn to him, leaning your hip against the counter.

“So? It’s Christmas. Let him be happy,” you retort.

Sam levels you with pinched brows. “He’s not in his 20s anymore. All that crap he eats is going to catch up to him someday.”

“What, you expect him to down some kale smoothies?” you reply, giving a pointed brow raise and a teasing smile. “Get up at the crack of dawn for a bare-chested run?”

Sam shoots you a dry look.

“My point is, I’m not gonna survive hundreds of monster attacks just to get taken down by cholesterol,” he says.

You sigh a raise a placating hand. “All right. I get what you’re saying. I’m just saying…have you ever thought about why he loves food so much? Why he overindulges sometimes?”

Sam's brow quirks. It’s a question you know you need to tread lightly in order to answer. You uncross your arms to lay a hand on Sam’s wrist. He stops washing dishes and turns off the sink to give you his full attention, sensing your shift.

You look up at him, and you steel yourself.

“He might’ve mentioned once…that you two sometimes had a hard time growing up. With John taking you guys from motel to motel while he was working a job, and every now and then, leaving you guys alone longer than he meant to.”

Dean had been more than a bit drunk when you’d gotten this out of him. Hearing about that aspect of his upbringing had upset you, not just as someone who cared about him, but the caretaker in you smarted.

“Even though you guys didn’t have enough money at times, your brother always made sure you were fed,” you explain. You meet Sam’s gaze, squeezing his arm. “Sometimes he went without.”

Sam’s expression slowly slackens, contemplative and dismayed at what you’re implying. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and rubs at his mouth, like he’s reeling back the years of evidence in his mind and trying to confirm if you were right.

“You don’t remember?” you gently ask.

Sam shakes his head. “I mean, I knew things were tight. I remember him taking care of me, obviously. But…”

He doesn’t remember his brother going hungry.

It carves a hole of remorse in his chest.

This isn’t the first time he’s had to reexamine Dean’s role in his life, and not the first time he’s felt this flavor of guilt. But he sighs and really doesn’t know what to say.

You seem to realize that, and you squeeze his arm one last time.

“Just keep that in mind,” you implore.

You soon leave him to venture upstairs, but there in the kitchen, Sam makes a resolution before the new year. One that includes having a conversation with his brother.

You find Dean in your bedroom. Now in his most threadbare sweatpants and an old black shirt, he lays over the covers on the bed. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head, but he hears you when you come in.

You slide into bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. He groans deep and slowly lowers his arms. One of them wraps around your frame.

“Think I overdid it a bit,” he admits, cracking his eyes open. You smile and gently pat his stomach.

“Wanna go for a walk tomorrow?” you ask. “We can go down to the park.”

Dean raises a brow at you. “You hate walking.”

“Not true,” you shake your head, before you rest more comfortably against him. He tucks you in beside him and begins to run his fingers down your arm. It’s a bit distracting.

“Could be nice, with the right view,” you add, though you shiver a little at his touch.

Dean makes a sound of mild interest in the idea. “I guess, if you like stringy trees and frozen lakes.”

It’s winter in Lebanon. Not much to look at.

You smirk and press a kiss to his chest. “I mean, that, and you in some little Richard Simmons shorts.”

Dean gives you a look, and you giggle so hard it shakes your whole body against him.

“Honestly, I think that’ll really do it for me,” you tease. You walk two fingers across his thigh, where a cute pair of ‘80s-style exercise shorts would cut off.

Dean grabs your hand and rolls you over, pinning you underneath him on the bed. His thigh slips between both of yours, causing friction against your jeans. And he smirks down at you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

AN: 😂 A little callback to S1 at the end there. I hope you guys liked this! Just in time to prepare for my Christmas cooking! ❤️💚

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "A Wish to Build a Dream On":

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

▶️ Next Story: A Wish to Build a Dream On

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictear @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#reader appreciation #lovely mututals #get stuffed feedback #lovely review!! 💖💖

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noomeriff · 2 days ago

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Ghostly Affection

Summary: You get separated from Mr. Crawling, will you be able to find him again?

Tags: Mr. Crawling x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Word count: 1849

A/n: Well, after literally years of not writing, guess I just needed a sweet ball of sunshine in the form of a creepy ghost man to make my inspiration come back. Hope you enjoy!^^

Bold: Other World Language

"Mr. Crawling?!"

The sound of your footsteps echoes in the empty hallways, your eyes frantically scanning every room you pass.

"Mr. Crawling, can you hear me?!"

The dizziness starts again, your vision blurring as you lean on a wall to regain balance.

~~~

It all happened so quickly.

You were walking through the immense maze of hallways, trying to find your way back to the other friendly residents, hoping to find some clue that could help you return to your world.

How long has it been since you've woken up in this place? Days? Weeks? You didn't know. What you did know was that the sound of clothes brushing against the cold floors was starting to become an anchor to your sanity, as crazy as it may sound.

You smiled as you looked over your shoulder, the friendly ghost smiling in return. For some reason, the presence of Mr. Crawling was the only thing that could make you feel a little bit safer in this dangerous and unpredictable place.

You were passing through a big room, talking, or at least trying to communicate at the best of your abilities, pointing at the objects as he answered in an eager voice to your questions.

Then everything started moving. Cracks forming on the walls, pieces of the ceiling breaking down as you looked at Mr. Crawling in panic. The both of you darted forward, trying to reach for the exit.

You saw him make it to the doorway.

Then you felt gravity pulling you down.

He tried to reach for your hand. Your fingertips brushed against each other for a brief second, but it was too late.

You screamed as the floor crumbled under your feet.

~~~

You catch yourself before sliding down to the floor, using both your hands to get back up, "I should get going."

Really? And where will you go?

You look around, walking into the next hallway, your heart starting to beat irregularly, "I must keep moving, I'm sure I'll find him soon."

But what if you don't? This place changes, after all.

You shake your head as you open another door, trying to suppress the intrusive thoughts, "Mr. Crawling!!"

What if you never find him? What if you can't find your way back to the others?

You mentally scold yourself, your breathing labored as you feel panic starting to invade your mind. Another door opens, welcoming you into a long, large tunnel.

You will forever walk through this hell alone.

All the strength you had left suddenly vanishes, your arms wrapping over your stomach as you fall on your knees. Dread starts to fill your chest like cold, sharp claws piercing your heart.

The only thing you had left was crying, to succumb to the harsh reality of this world. Tears stream down your cheeks, your voice feeble as you try to keep your last bit of hope close.

"Mr. Crawling..."

Something moves at the end of the tunnel.

Your head shoots up instinctively, your hand wrapping tighter on your crowbar, ready to swing at whatever hostile monster was there.

You listen closely, keeping your breath steady at the best you could while your eyes squint in the darkness in front of you.

Then you hear it.

The familiar sound of fabric.

A wave of relief washes over you, so strong that your heart compresses in your chest.

Before you even realize it, you're running. The sound of your shoes echoes within the walls of the tunnel. You run until you can finally see the hunched over figure of your friend, who's looking around, confused and alarmed by the noise.

Tears well up in your eyes, the relief so intense that you can't contain it.

You instinctively throw your crowbar to the side, it was only slowing you down. The metal clings on the ground, catching his attention.

You fall on your knees, your arms wrapping tightly around his body as you bury your face into his chest, "Mr. Crawling!!"

He yelps in surprise, not realizing what's going on as he tries to keep his balance. After an infinite moment of silent, he giggles. The eerie but all too familiar giggle you've been longing to hear, the only thing that could cement in your mind that this is reality, you are not dreaming and you're not alone anymore.

In an instant his thin, but strong arms wrap around you, almost crushing you by the sheer intensity of it, "You find me!"

Tears fall faster as you reciprocate his hug, almost in fear that he could vanish as soon as you let go.

"Floor drop! You disappear! Me worry!!", Mr. Crawling basks in the sudden affection, his body swinging from side to side, unable to contain his happiness, "Me search! You find me! Me glad!"

He suddenly stills, your sobs finally reaching his ear. He quickly tries to take a better look at you, but he's met by your iron grip around his chest.

You feel his long, cold fingers rest on the top of your head, softly caressing your hair to soothe you.

"Pet, pet..."

He doesn't move, not entirely sure what to do, but trying his best to calm you down.

As soon as you feel your breath steady a little, you feel his hands rest on your shoulders, gently pulling you away from him. Your tears run down your cheeks as he looks at you, his expression getting more worried by the second.

He slowly moves one of his hands close to your face, touching a tear with the tip of his finger, quickly retracting it as soon as it makes contact, "Eye...water?"

Do the other world entities even know what tears are?

His expression somehow turns even more worried, scanning your face and your arms, "You hurt? Pain?"

You take a deep breath, brushing away a streak of tears with the back of your hand, "No, no-" you try to remember the right words in the mess that is your mind at the moment, "Me not hurt."

A moment of silence falls as you search for the right words to use.

"Me...afraid. Many, many afraid...", you grab onto his clothes, "Me not know where you... Me alone..."

You yelp as you feel both of his hand hold the sides of your head, caressing you almost fervently. You're only able to notice his frown, his expression a mask of worry as he tries to make you feel better, "Pet, pet!!"

As your head bounces from side to side, you can't help the laugh that bubbles in your throat, your hair already a tangled mess.

You grab his wrists, fighting against him as he still tries to go on, "Mr. Crawling, wait-!" another chuckle escapes your lips as you look at him, "Stop!"

He stops, his attention turning on you as you lower his hands away from your head. You brush away the tears still on your face, your heart fluttering at the sweetness behind his action, "Me fine! Me not afraid! Me found you! You together me!"

Mr. Crawling takes a moment to understand your words, his smile returning as he giggles. His puts his hand back on top of your head, this time much more gentle as he pets you.

"Me glad! Eye water bad! Mouth happy! You ?????? !"

This time it's your turn to be caught off guard, your head tilting slightly in confusion as you try to translate his words.

Seeing your confusion, he repeats himself, this time gesturing with his hands to give you some help.

"Eye water-", he points his finger at your cheek, "bad!"

"Mouth happy," he points at his face, his grin stretching as he giggles again, "You ?????? !"

Is he... telling me to smile?

Your eyebrows furrow at the unknown word as you try to replicate the sound, "??????..."

He nods vigorously, almost amused by your confusion.

You try your best to recall all your knowledge, it's been a while since you've heard a new word, but-.... wait a moment... no, this is not a new word, you've heard that sound before... but when was it?

Your eyes wander, looking down at your hands, now resting on your knees. Your new clothes catch your attention... of course! The Bride! You've heard that word when that kind ghost gave you these new clothes!

It was something that Mr. Crawling said in that occasion, but wasn't he talking about the dress that time...?

Your heart skips a beat as a thought crosses your mind, your eyes widening slightly.

No, that can't be the meaning... right? But... what if-

Your attention slowly returns on him, his expression almost gleeful as he watches you, waiting patiently for you to arrive at a conclusion.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry as your hand moves, pointing a single finger toward you, "Me..."

"...pretty?"

His delighted giggle is the only answer you need, "Mouth happy! You pretty! Pretty!"

Your can't help the blush that suddenly dusts your cheeks, the pure sweetness in his voice enough to make you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Wait- does that mean he's called you pretty before?!

As your face turns redder by the second, you're startled when you feel Mr. Crawling's cold hand against your cheek, "Face fire... why?"

You quickly grab his hand, pulling it away as your blush spreads further, "N-Nothing!!- I mean, No worry!!"

He tilts his head, beaming as he looks at you, his smile wide as he pats your head once more, "Me like face fire! You pretty!"

The moment you lean closer to hide your face in his chest, he wraps his arms around you, locking you in place. His laugh fills the silence, covering your voice as you sigh in both embarrassment and frustration.

He leans down, his cheek resting on top of your head as he pulls you closer, "Pretty! Pretty! ???? !"

You're not sure if you want to know the meaning behind that new word, or at least, you don't know if your heart is ready for it at the moment.

A few minutes pass as you let him shower you in affection, your heart finally calming down. You have to admit, he gives good hugs, even if his touch is cold.

You slowly pull away from him. He lets you, but you notice a hint of hesitation as his hands unwraps from you, but still resting on your shoulders.

Your eyes wander over to your crowbar, abandoned on the floor a few meters from you. You sigh, your mind finally at peace, "Maybe it's time for us to return to the others."

Mr. Crawling frowns, his grip on your shoulders tightening slightly, "You go?"

The look of disappointment on his face almost made your heart melt on the spot, your chest hurts at the thought of ending this precious moment between the two of you.

With a soft smile, you pull him closer once again, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mr. Crawling chirps in delight, his hand resuming his soft caresses on your head, making you laugh with him.

"I guess a few more minutes won't hurt."

#homicipher #mr crawling #homicipher x reader #mr crawling x reader

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xxtc-96xx · 4 hours ago

Note

Speaking of Transformers, how did you feel about that one series where Bumblebee was the leader instead of Optimus?

Robots in Disguise 2015? I know most people don't like it and overall I think it's definitely weaker than Prime in almost every aspect buuuut I'd be lying if I said I didn't have fun with aspects from it lol

Drift, his minicons and Grimlock are definitely my favourites from it, I did like seeing Bumblebee being the leader for once though I much prefer him looking round as opposed to his design here.

I also had fun with any of the Optimus Prime episodes (he's one of my favourite autobots what did you expect lol) seeing the dynamic where he's not the leader and getting used to being an equal was a cool idea I do wish they played more with. Though it was also fun seeing him having to deal with a punk-ass teenager like Sideswipe being the true dad he is lol one episode where he was hurt and Sideswipe was ragging on him for slowing them all down only for Sideswipe to be hurt by the end, you tell me you didn't giggle when OP saw his chance and took it to be sarcastic with him with the smuggest smirk you've ever seen on his face XD

also seeing Prime Ratchet and Soundwave again will always make me happy. Overall I think that RiD2015 was mid, but I had fun with it. And I also think there's nothing wrong with that, I think "mid" has been used far too often in a negative way. There's nothing wrong with having a show that doesn't blow your mind but you still have fun from it on occasion anyways

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drdemonprince · 2 days ago

Note

on the topic of your "bad gender" posts, the one you made mentioning sexual abuse (especially by mothers) is something nobody talks about at all and I'm glad you mentioned it.

My psychiatrist said I have CPTSD after I went through a huge breakdown after putting pieces together that I've been experiencing long-term sexual abuse from my mother (incredibly long story, but you get the idea). I still completely struggle with seeing what she's done and does as abuse, because it is totally buried in my mind that it is not abusive or strange because she is my mother. No matter how many times my friends and partner say it's wrong, or things like "imagine if it was your father", or my DBT therapist is straight up with me and tells me I was groomed by her, I just cannot get the idea that her being my mother specifically makes her behavior acceptable. (especially since I didn't come out as broadly transmasc until I was 18, and was thus seen as a complete extension of her and her body prior to).

I genuinely cannot comprehend where the line is between normal care and abuse because of what I've learned (from her or otherwise) maternal care looks like "compared to" paternal. And I just haven't found anything that's been able to really help me grasp what I've experienced because I just cannot understand why, or what I can do. The only thing I've found with others describing my specific experience is the MDSA subreddit, which is usually just extremely triggering for me to browse (obviously the content, but also the daughter framing and just the everything about it) so I don't go there, but it has shown me that many of us have lived very similar experiences, we just rarely recognized it as abnormal because it was our mother. Perceiving men as the inherently "bad gender" especially in terms of sexual abuse just makes me see red, and is a lot of why this can keep going on unnoticed. I don't really know what I'm trying to say, and I'm sorry to dump this here. It's hard to discuss the nuance of it without being kinda specific. I just saw you mention it and I rarely see the topic brought up, so I guess I just wanted to say thank you for doing so

Thank you so much for sharing this, anon. SO many children endure parentification, spousification, covert incest, and sexual abuse at the hands of their mothers and never get that mistreatment recognized as such because people view women as benevolent, passive caretakers rather than full human beings who are capable of harm. Adults wield immense power over children, particularly parents, and this power structure functions in much the same way men's power over women does -- it makes children into the property of adults, and facilitates abuse.

You are not alone in this experience at all. I'm sure you've heard all about Jeannette McCurdy's Memoir, but if you haven't read it, you might find it affirming. The poet Anne Sexton also sexually abused her daughter, Linda, who wrote a memoir about it called Searching for Mercy Street that is also a powerful read. The host of the podcast The Mental Illness Happy Hour is an adult survivor of covert sexual abuse at the hand of his mother, and he speaks about it quite frequently and thoughtfully on his show, and has interviewed numerous guests who have also survived covert incest. As a male survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of a woman, he's a rare, needed voice, and I've gotten a ton out of listening to it. There's also a self-help book on covert incest that I've read and appreciated called Silently Seduced. You may also find value in Issendai's analysis of estranged parent forums -- lots of documentation of abusive female parents and how they justify themselves to be found there, and the author eviscerates it expertly.

I hope that reading and listening to some of this material will help you to more clearly see the outlines of your own abuse and to recognize it as wrong and distinct from true maternal care. It wasn't my mom who was the chief boundary violator in my household, it was my dad, but a lot of what he did mimicked the traditionally "maternal" abuse profile, and all these resources helped me wrap my head around it a lot better. It's triggering stuff, but I think it is worth plunging these depths when you feel safe to do so, to what ever degree you can comfortably manage. You might want to dig up the Mental Illness Happy Hour episodes specifically about the host's abuse experience first, since that focuses on a man's experience of having been groomed by his mom.

Thanks for writing. My inbox is open if you wanna talk. This stuff was a foundational trauma for me that I have processed heavily and I'm always willing to discuss it more with people who have been there. <3

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sunnie-angel · 2 days ago

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Sunnieeee babyyy what do we think about femjay and marriage? Yay or nay? Does she even want to get married? Is she wife-ing you up or is she waiting for you to pop the question? Elopement or ceremony? WHERE does she take you for your honeymoon 😼

ooooh so i've been sitting on this ask for a bit (mostly because i start thinking about fem!jay in a tux and my brain stops working) but i love this question so much.

the question, of course, depends on when you ask her. at 15, it's an emphatic no. she hates the way that the question gets asked by the upper crust busybodies because she knows it's always with some strange faceless man in mind waiting for her at the altar. never mind that jay's never shown interest in a boy but her best friend, the assumption is there and she hates it.

at 21, fresh out of the pit and off a revenge streak, she'd laugh in your face (and riddle you with bullets, depending on who's doing the asking). she's the big bad red hood, you think she's gonna settle down? think she'd hand over her empire for a little ring and a bit of paper? fat chance. marriage didn't save her mother from a husband that was never around. talia's still pinning her hopes on a one day maybe. jay's got plans and none of those include marriage. who'd want her anyway?

you ask her when she's 23 and happily in love for the first time, well that's a different story. she's still got her hangups - the past doesn't let go so easily - but she wants to know why you want this. you start with the practical, legal reasons first. you're a vigilante and yeah you might get most of your medical treatment from secret facilities but i want to be allowed in the room for all the times you end up in the hospital. i might be under the hood's extra legal protections but there's a comfort in being legally tied to you too. then you move on to the emotional ones. i want to bring our families together to celebrate us. i want to stand up in front of the world and declare that i'm yours and you're mine. and well, it's everything that jay didn't know she wanted. answers the greedy, grasping parts of her hindbrain at the thought of publicly branding herself as yours and whoops suddenly the apartment is full of wedding planning materials. spring you said?

you asked, but she proposes. applies all her tactical knowledge to planning the perfect, meaningful proposal. she enlists the help of all of her many siblings, and thankfully it all goes to plan. she still manages to surprise you, jolts you into happy tears when she gets down on one knee and pulls out two matching rings.

the engagement goes off without a hitch, but the wedding? that very quickly spirals out of control. everyone has an opinion and your head's spinning with tablescape designs and flower arrangements and jay wants to help but she's worried about being just another opinion shouting in your ear. so jay calls in some favours from clark to borrow a photographer and gets you to clear the rest of your weekend. she takes you shopping with bruce's credit card, a fun little white cocktail dress she has you wear out of the store and into the courthouse. the two of you get married right there, with only the courthouse judge and two random witnesses you kidnap from the corridors. it's done! you two are married, and it's like this great weight is lifted from both of you. Mrs. and Mrs. Todd. The ceremony, the great tentpole party, that's for everyone else but this bit is just for the two of you.

your public ceremony is the event of Gotham society's year. even the daily globe over in metropolis prints a feature on it. but jay doesn't care because her wife - her wife! - is holding her hand and kissing her to the cheers of both of their families.

(tbh i don't think the honeymoon location matters so much because she is not letting you leave the bed for three days straight after 🤭)

#whoops this got long #fem!jason todd #jason todd x reader #snack fic #sweet words for sunnie

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lush-lavenders · 1 day ago

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❀Late Bloomer❀

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: You are late to enter society, but that doesn't mean you don't catch anyone's eye...

Request: Nope

Author’s Note: Sooo I'm really bad about disappearing. But recently I've been binging Bridgerton and been in the mood to write, so here we are!

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None, just fluff here

Buy me a Ko-Fi

!I don’t own this gif!

Dearest Reader,

It has come to my attention that a Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), youngest daughter to Baron Arthur (Y/L/N), is making her debut, mid-season. Not only that, but she is almost one and twenty!

While this author cannot see the future, she can certainly predict it (and I do predict it well) - this season will be nothing if not eventful for Baron (Y/L/N) children.

—

As you stepped into the ballroom, the flutter in your stomach threatened to escape from your mouth.

Lady Whistledown had come out this morning, and your mother was enthralled by the mere mention of your name. This made her fuss over you all day, needing to make your debut even more ‘perfect.’

You tried on three different dresses before the right one was picked out. You had five hairstyles tried out before your mother decided on the very first one. You had spent two hours out in search of the perfect matching earrings and necklace.

You were exhausted by the time you had to get ready, and severely tense as you arrived at Lady Danbury’s ball.

Cassandra, your sister-in-law, squeezed your arm softly. “Take a deep breath. This is just a party.”

You quickly took a breath, sighing it out. “That is easy for you to say. You married my brother in your first season after courting for a week.”

Cassie opened her mouth probably to give you more words of encouragement when your brother butted in. “We cannot stand here and talk all night. You need to present yourself to suitors.”

Before you could even think about protesting, Matthew walked ahead of you with Cassie on his arm, leaving you to trail behind.

—

“That there is Miss Buchan, she’s the only child of Earl Buchan.” The dowager Viscountess Bridgerton was discreetly pointing out young ladies to her two eldest sons, whose attentions would rather be anywhere else.

Benedict was scanning the room for someone he could use to politely excuse himself from his mother’s matchmaking.

It would be an understatement to say he wasn’t interested in marrying yet. He had just recently started at Art School and wanted nothing more than to enjoy his work as a bachelor.

That’s when he spotted Lady Danbury. Normally he avoided the woman, as she could be as scheming as his mother, but she seemed like his only refuge.

“Excuse me, Mother, but I believe I should give my regards to Lady Danbury for the invite.” Benedict bowed to Violet before quickly heading off in the direction of the hostess.

He thought about turning away last minute, evading all the prying eyes of those who might want to set him up, but something caught his attention - the once-alone lady of the house was now talking with a young lady. One he had yet to see in the sea of lovely debutantes.

“Mr. Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury’s distinct voice cleared his mind as he approached. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She knew better than anyone that the Bridgerton boys tried to avoid her at these balls.

Benedict bowed, offering a smile. “Lady Danbury, I just wanted to compliment your wonderful party.”

Lady Danbury raised her, knowing that there was an ulterior motive. She glanced at where Violet Bridgerton was standing with her eldest, noticing her eyes were following her second child.

She flashed a scheming smile and turned her attention back to the young lady she was with. “Where are my manners? Miss (Y/N), this is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. Mr. Bridgerton, may I present to you Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N). This is her first ball, so I expect you to be on your best behavior. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should go talk to your mother.”

She gave him a little pat on the shoulder, pushing him towards you as she went to Violet.

You lightly curtseyed as Benedict bowed his head to you. As you stood up straight, you froze, staring into the most beautiful blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the man’s features, stunned that someone such as him could be before you.

“Miss (Y/L/N).” He took your gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing the gentlest kiss one could muster.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you returned, not knowing what else to say. He had captured any words that might formulate within you.

His grasp lingered on your hand, longer than one might consider proper. It was good that the two of you were sequestered to the back of the ball.

At least you had thought you were hidden away.

A hand and sudden voice from behind told you how wrong you were.

“(Y/N), we have been looking for you. We turned around and you had disappeared.” Cassie let go of her husband to take your arm. “Who might you be talking to?” She asked, hiding the joy she felt for her best friend talking to a very eligible bachelor.

Benedict bowed to her and introduced himself before you could do it. “Benedict Bridgerton, at your service.” He joked lightly, and you bit your lip softly as you smiled.

“Bridgerton,” Matthew said as he bowed his head. “I’ve done quite a bit of business with your brother.”

If it wasn’t for Cassie being between you, you would have elbowed your brother right in the ribs for creating such a boring conversation.

Luckily, Cassie was thinking similarly enough to you. “Now now, my love. I’m sure Mr. Bridgerton does not need to hear about his own brother.”

Benedict chuckled, agreeing with her. “Yes, well, as well not needing to hear from him.” He joked, just as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Well, Brother, maybe I shall take a look at your allowance?” Viscount Bridgerton came up out of the blue.

It seems as though each of your siblings was trying to prevent the two of you from speaking.

And they just kept coming.

Eloise Bridgerton arrived next, in an effort to escape from her mother. “Anthony, Benedict, you really must not leave me alone with Mama.” She sounded sort of breathless as if she had rushed here.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling parched. “Pardon me…” You muttered to no one in particular. Matthew and the Viscount seemed to be conversing about business, while Eloise tried to convince Benedict to return to their mother for her.

Cassie silently went along with you, still holding your arm.

You were silent as you made your way to the refreshments table, grabbing the first glass in front of you. You tried to appear as ladylike as possible while you practically gulped down the lemonade.

“I am so sorry for our interruption, (Y/N),” Cassie said after you had finished. “I did not realize you were speaking with a Bridgerton.”

You shook your head, setting the glass down. “It’s alright. We didn’t really start to converse yet.” Not that you had the chance.

She picked up a glass herself and took a sip, her thoughts lingering. “You seemed… quite enamored with him.”

You scoffed, but not in a way to be rude. “Did you even look at him, Cassie? He’s…” You were at a loss for words as your gaze landed back on the Bridgerton in question. His eyes were wandering, ignoring both of your brothers. They wandered and wandered… until they eventually landed.

On you.

Your eyes met for the second time that night, but this time you quickly looked away, cheeks growing hot.

That wasn’t before you noticed his perk up and began heading in your direction.

“Cassie, he’s coming over here. What do I do?” You ask in a panic. The only men you’ve ever really talked to were your father and brother, and neither counted towards this.

She put both hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Just be yourself.”

That’s the best advice you have, you thought to yourself.

You barely had the time to think up a response when Benedict made it to you, bowing his head again in greeting. “Mrs. and Miss (Y/L/N).”

You both courtesy, Cassie standing up before you. “I believe my husband needs me.” She says before snicking off, leaving you two alone.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you say after a moment, lifting your eyes to take a look at his features. Features that seem to be drilled into your mind from the beginning of the night. “Has my brother bored you so much you seek me out?” You joke in a self-deprecating manner, knowing you aren’t exactly worthy of his attention.

He smiled at your humor but shook his head. “Our brothers together are an apparent force to be reckoned with, but it is not them that brings me here. It’s you.”

Your breath caught in your chest at those last two words.

He actually wanted to be around you. There is nothing you could’ve hoped for more.

He looked around your surroundings before having you take his arm. “It gets so stuffy in here, does it not? Let us get some fresh air.”

“Just the two of us?” You asked with raised eyebrows. You had never been left, unchaperoned; yet the thought of it, with Benedict… it excited you.

He smiled a crooked but sweet smile. “Only if we leave now, while no one’s watching.”

You smile back, looking around as you follow him quickly into the hall before going out a backdoor into the gardens.

In the first few moments you observed him under the moonlight, your whole future played out. Everything centered around him.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine

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