#I have a lot more thoughts but I’ll spare y’all for now

[the-brainrot-central]

Feeling writerblocked as fuck and too tired to answer my asks so fuck it, old man mpreg thought dump. And by “old man” I mean this bitch 🤦‍♂️🤦🤦‍♀️

Why the fuck did I have to fixate on this mf I swear to GOD I HATE MY FUCKING BRAIN 😭

(TW: mpreg, mentions of hate crime, mentions of miscarriage)

Anyways THOUGHTS:

Him getting pregnant obviously wasn’t the intended outcome, but him and his wife decide to keep it because they’ve been trying for a kid for quite a while, and this might be their only chance. They’re both getting older and that fertility window is closing.

He is violently ill for a long time and they have no clue why until they see a doctor. His morning sickness gets so bad he can hardly eat some days. His wife gets mad at him because of how damn picky he’s being with food—even plain foods bother him, sometimes even just the texture is enough to make him throw up—but tried her best to accommodate and make different foods that are easier on his stomach.

This happening in the mid-sixties, people aren’t too kind about pregnant men, so they both agree not to tell their families until after the baby’s born, and then they’ll tell them it was just a normal pregnancy

His pregnancy is higher risk, in several ways, being both geriatric and male. Because of this he has to see doctors more often, has a visit every other week throughout the duration of his pregnancy.

But yeah he has to keep it pretty much under wraps, once he gets big enough to be noticed he just stops leaving the house altogether for fear of being seen. His wife gets a job as a secretary while he’s homebound. He feels really guilty about staying at home and making her go to work but they both agreed its what’s safest for him and the baby, they’re especially wary after a particular “incident” that happened in his second trimester (a stranger assaults him and they almost lose the baby)

Birth is a planned c-section, though it turns into somewhat of an emergency when his water breaks three weeks earlier than his due date and the contractions start coming on quickly after.

Despite his nerves and the pain, he’s pretty calm while they prep him for surgery, meanwhile his wife is an absolute neurotic mess, starts crying while they’re giving him anesthesia and putting in his epidural because it’s finally setting in that oh shit, this is really happening, their entire lives are about to change. Not to mention her husband is about to go through major surgery and something could easily go wrong

Fortunately, it’s a pretty smooth delivery, baby Kira comes out easy peasy and they’re both sobbing messes when they get to hold him for the first time 🥺

Losing my goddamn marbles tbh

[starlooove]

No one is asking you to like cops IRL, not even the show. If you look at Arcane and what you see is copaganda, if you look at Cait and only see PoLiCe OfFiCeR and not the character, the problem is YOU.

1. I never said anyone asked me to like cops irl

2. I know that’s what I said.

[britcision]

So I made it 4 years without being struck down by AO3 Author Curse! But here we are. I’ll spare y’all the details but let’s just say “fuck this year” and leave it there. We’ve had the requisite Third Bad Thing and I will burn the universe down if it goes for a fourth

What this means for y’all, of course, is that there’s been a long ass break between last chapter and this one! Aaaaand this one is being broken in half because it is Longer Than Tumblr Allows

(And they’ve lessened how many paragraph breaks you get cuz this one is only about 9.5k and it made me add it in thirds, woe is me)

So, as usual, links to the first chapter, last chapter, and the link to the AO3 version is I think in BOTH, so if you can’t find it from there I can’t help you 😁

First Chapter:

Last Chapter:

And just a little recap where last we left off:

Bruce has gone to the Watchtower to debrief the Justice League about Amity Park and the Anti Ecto Acts, and been told that Jason has left the land of the living! But like, on purpose

Jason and Danny have gone to visit Frostbite and learned that they are ghost-bonded, which you should take seriously like being ghost-married, and that Jason is gonna pop out Pitty in a couple more days/weeks and have to emotionally raise a ghost-baby

Tucker, Tim, and Conner are all playing video games and hiding out from the Amity Parker/Bat Chat for Tim and Tucker’s mutual stalking ways, which Sam blew wide open by sharing Timblr, as punishment for Tucker not telling her they were all alive

(Danny’s off the hook cuz Tucker was haunting his phone with soundtracks for half the day)

And Damian’s off being Sketchy And Mysterious

————————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 1)

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought). Totally ignoring that she was 1000% usually one of “you lot”.

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one, and, being generous or not, winding Robin up was always a treat.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked innocently.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the waning daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol. Not being chatty was one thing, but if you were out on the town you had to call in.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little nudge. Totally not because she was getting impatient. And nosy.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

From the scowl he shot her he knew it too, and looked away quickly enough that he knew there was no taking it back. He folded his arms across his chest and sulked and fuck he was just adorable.

She’d bet anything Dick used to pout exactly like that.

Still, she tempered the grin down to a slight smile. Dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and letting go when he pulled away.

“Worried me too. Were you close enough to see anything?” Because yeah, if Robin was already at least on his way into uniform before the message arrived?

Spoiler would put easy, easy money on him having been already tailing Jason and Danny around. Last night too, probably. She and Cass had left early to take the night shift, leaving Tim and Damian with the Amity Parkers.

Damian had one hell of a dose of his father’s paranoia, and Steph considered it a solemn duty to teach him about personal boundaries to keep him from turning out just like the old bat.

Just a little friendly stalking from the rooftops didn’t really count though. Not between family.

Robin had tensed right up again too, but when she didn’t push the contact or needle at him he slowly relaxed back down. Scowled at her feet instead of his own.

“No,” he admitted bitterly, both at definitely having been busted and probably at having nothing to report, “Todd… Hood spoke to the magician. They argued, he went back inside Freeze’s place and did not reappear when his tracker went through the roof and into the sky.”

Spoiler blinked, mildly surprised.

“Hood was wearing a tracker? Didn’t think he was in the mood.”

“He wasn’t,” Robin corrected with a derisive sniff.

And… yeah, they were gonna have to do a little more work on that whole “boundaries” thing. Although the odds of Hood not noticing that he’d been tagged were lower than Robin probably thought. Keeping a tag on him that he didn’t want there?

Nah. She may not exactly trust Jason, but that was how she knew how good he was at finding and disabling rogue trackers. And sure, Damian was better than her at some things, but if Cass couldn’t sneak a tracker onto Red Hood no one could.

Kinda cute that Jason let the little guy think he’d successfully bugged him.

At least the constant mild stalking was just standard for the family.

Shaking her head, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“That’s rough. Flying’s cheating,” she commiserated with a sly look to the sky.

She’d heard a super cross Oracle’s radar. Conner, almost certainly if Robin was still out alone.

Too bad he’d not thought to call his own Superboy, though taking flight himself wouldn’t have helped if dimensional travel followed.

Robin made another disgusted little tut, then pushed off the gargoyle and stormed away. Spoiler watched him go for a moment, then shrugged.

“Hey, go get some sleep if you’re coming back out tonight,” she called after him. Grinned when he flipped her off without turning.

If he’d been off stalking Jason and Danny two days in a row, he’d need some rest.

“And don’t forget your report,” she teased and actually laughed when he raised his other hand to flip her off with both before leaping off the edge of the roof, swinging back towards the bat cave.

Stephanie Brown had never been prouder in her life than the first day Damian had said “fuck” in front of his dad. Far be it from her to demand anyone transform into a social butterfly, but she personally was pretty damn sure that nothing was gonna help Damian out of his “raised by assassins” shell than learning some good old fashioned swearwords.

And a little teenaged rebellion. The proudest day was totally gonna be when he finally told his grandfather to fuck off (or any suitable equivalent; Steph wasn’t choosy).

Leaning back into the gargoyle’s shadow, Spoiler surveyed the city below. Technically, she’d been out as long as Damian had; if she wanted to be out tonight she’d need a quick nap too.

Or, more fun, she could nip back to the manor, kidnap Cass, and they could find and bully Tim and Tucker in person. Yeah, that was gonna be it.

**

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep. (Not that he knew much about how that actually felt, at least not when not recovering from serious injury.)

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

Even after three separate courses of Bruce’s bullshit, both directly and through the medium of John fucking Constantine. Not so long ago, Bruce would never even dare call him, much less try and set up a bat cave ambush. That… was probably technically a good sign?

Didn’t feel like one at the moment, but Jason actually felt almost good enough to be charitable with the old bat. A little emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

Jason was self aware enough to admit he’d probably had more than one breakdown owed to him. Maybe not a “take to the bed”, “trip to the sea” full Victorian lady meltdown, but he’d had a whole baby dropped on him. Except somehow worse.

He damn well deserved that freak out, and now that it was over and he’d been given what kinda felt like the ghost equivalent of speed… He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. Which… he should have been doing anyway. At least this part wasn’t solely for his benefit though.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. In this way, even if the Great One is not beside you, all ghosts will know that you are the chosen protector of their King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

“And all the other ghosts can just… see this?” He asked, not really sure what he was hoping to be told.

Frostbite switched from giving Danny a fond smile back to Jason, nodding brightly.

“Oh yes. Ectoplasm is very easily influenced by emotion, and bonds can form quite quickly. I presume you took an oath?” He asked, eyes sparkling in a way that made Jason pretty damn sure he’d met Clockwork.

Which, now that he thought about it…

Jason huffed out another deep breath, running a hand through his hair. As much as John Fucking Constantine specifically could ride a cactus straight to Hell… the guy mighta had the faintest inkling of a point about one thing.

“Yeah… about that.” He pulled a face, gaze tracking away from the others and down to the floor.

Would they think he was a dumbass too? Danny had been there when Clockwork made the offer and he’d been pretty against it, but Jason had thought he understood why.

It hadn’t sounded anything like Constantine’s claims of what he’d signed up for.

In the end, it was easier to address the question to Frostbite’s large hairy toes.

“I, uh… I made an oath to Clockwork, but do I have… a contract or something? The asshole magician I mentioned earlier was going on and on about eternal fucking servitude bullshit but it’d be nice to have something to shove in his face,” he added quickly, arm slipping back and almost around Danny (but with his hand still firmly on the table).

He didn’t need to wait to feel the guilt in Danny’s aura to head it off.

Jason wasn’t having second thoughts. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d signed up for, and when it came right down to it…

He didn’t think people could lie through their auras. Even when he was trying to project something like “I’m fine” and he wasn’t, he was pretty sure Danny could tell.

He could sure as hell tell when Danny was bluffing through his, which had happened maybe once total.

He trusted Danny. He trusted Frostbite. He even mostly trusted Clockwork, because for all the guy had been a little sketchy, Jason had felt his sincerity. How deeply he cared for Danny.

Keeping Danny safe forever didn’t sound like eternal servitude. Eternal babysitting, maybe, if Danny was being a pain in the ass, but he’d never top Damian at his most bratty.

Jason woulda been trying to protect Danny anyway. As far as he knew, knighthood just made that easier.

Which was another reason he’d like a look at his contract. You didn’t make it onto the streets as Robin without learning to read for loopholes, hidden clauses, and fine print. He may have already signed on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some wiggle room.

Danny, about to say something either apologetic or self deprecating, huffed out a breath as Jason’s arm slipped around him. Winded up giving him a half smile instead.

“Yeah… that’s a good point. I still need to find out if I can fire your ass.”

“Still didn’t hire me,” Jason pointed out archly, bumping his arm to knock Danny forwards a little.

The other halfa huffed a laugh this time and bumped him back.

“Yeah, and I gotta work out how to hire you so I can then immediately fire you,” he shot back.

Frostbite cut them both off with a raised hand, though he still looked fondly amused. Like they were cute little kids or something stupid.

“You will have to discuss this with Clockwork directly, young knight, but I do not believe a knighthood typically comes with a contract. It is a duty one is granted, and one that may be rescinded if you fail, but it is not a deal,” he explained patiently.

Jason’s brows furrowed a little, but at least he could feel Danny’s confusion-puzzled-not sure beside him too. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Maybe he shoulda looked a little more into magic shit while he was with the League of Assassins. That would have been the time, especially if the Lazarus Pits were the just grunged ectoplasm.

“It kinda sounded like a deal when he offered it,” he said almost as a question, glancing back at Danny for confirmation.

Danny nodded. So it wasn’t just Jason.

“He gave me a cool magic gun in exchange for keeping Danny hale and hearty. Protecting him in the living and Infinite realms,” Jason added in case the wording counted, more sure as he remembered some of the reasons.

Fuck, had that only been a week ago? It felt like it’d been a whole year.

Frostbite gave them a neutral shrug, inclining his head.

“As I said, you will need to ask Clockwork directly. All I can tell you is that it is not innate to the position; a knighthood is not usually something bought and sold,” he explained patiently.

Danny hummed an agreement, cheek resting on Jason’s shoulder again.

“It’s normally all ghost-to-ghost too, so is there a way we can check if the halfa thing has changed it?” He asked Frostbite, leaning against the table too and totally not actually putting his arm around Jason back.

Jason felt a little more tension leech back out of him. Which raised another good point, actually.

“And not related or anything, but if you gave me a buncha those ice crystals could I just chew them to get the ecto for…” he hesitated, waving his free hand at his general chest area again.

Honestly, given half a chance he’d love to get a bowl full and try and pop the pit out in one go… it’d probably be easier to train from outside his body where it wouldn’t immediately know he was so full of shit… his own aura notwithstanding.

Yeah, he was still a little worried about being anyone’s emotional guide, but if he could just get the damn thing out in the world… maybe it could have other guides too.

“To answer the simpler question first, young knight, unfortunately the energized ectoplasm is only a short term boost and will not affect either of your cores. I will provide you with a small supply to assist your emotional control whilst you stabilize, if you wish?” Frostbite offered gently, a slight smile on his face.

Jason hesitated, considering things for a moment, then nodded. Sure, it wasn’t a solid “yes here is the answer to all your problems Jason just smack it in”, but it was a concrete solution to what had actually been worrying him.

Having another one of those weird “episodes”. He’d still be waiting to get Pitty all the way out, but at least he had a backup plan until then. He could pop an ecto-crystal each morning, get some energy, and worry less about night patrols.

Shit, he’d have more energy than he’d had since he died. The others were gonna be jealous as hell, but it wasn’t like they could steal and take his ghost meds. Probably.

Jason… wasn’t quite ready to think about the panic attack itself. He felt fine now, way better, and it wasn’t like it was the first he’d had.

Just…

Just the first that he remembered. That his heart started racing, his head rushing, ears filled with rushing static and the world hadn’t just melted into a green haze of blood and violence.

His early training with the League of Assassins had involved a lot of losing himself to the Pit. He’d wake up days later, body aching with exertions he couldn’t remember, and be told how many he’d killed.

Good news: no fear of that either, apparently. Pitty wasn’t pulling for control anymore, so the green haze was all Jason’s own.

Joy.

He had a nasty feeling that Danny would notice him spiralling from anywhere in Gotham. And probably ditch class to come check on him.

Like Hell. Jason’d fucking call Harley first, put himself through some breathing exercises or whatever, he did not need an emotional support Ghost King.

He gave Frostbite a quick nod, a small smile forming almost without thinking about it. The yeti was just… so caring and helpful. Not exactly something Jason had a wealth of experience with. He’d probably be a great example for Pitty.

Frostbite returned the smile, making a quick note on his tablet.

“And of course, your ghostly parent or a mentor should also be able to assist you. Spending time with those who are important to you, especially a comforting figure will help both your control and your core formation,” the yeti added in a slightly pointed way, like he’d read Jason’s mind, and Jason had to stifle a laugh.

Frostbite might be an eight foot tall hairy yeti, but he’d get along with Alfred like a house on fire… he was even as stubborn about not using their names as Alfred was about nicknames.

And when Jason thought about someone comforting, the beacon of emotional maturity and constraint… it could only be Alfred. He was more grandparent than parent, but certainly the only mentor Jason still looked up to. And a paragon of control besides.

Alfred could help him with Pitty. Model a little actual emotional restraint and control for the both of them. The only question was if Jason could just be up front and ask him, possibly revealing the secret early, or if he’d have to come up with an excuse for them to hang out.

Stupid thought. Jason knew damn well he could just walk into the kitchen and Alfred would be more than happy to spend time together. He wouldn’t need a ruse; he wouldn’t even need an excuse.

The knowledge settled warm and soft and happy inside him, until his brain caught up with his ears and stopped him short.

Wait.

“Ghost parent?” He asked cautiously, looking from Frostbite to Danny again. Danny pulled a face but Frostbite beat him to the punch.

“Ah, yes. We did not discuss that last time either. Your ghost parent, young knight, is the second strongest bond a young ghost can have. They are the ghost who welcomes you into the Infinite Realms, who will guide your steps and protect you until your own haunt has formed.”

Brows furrowing, Jason twisted to frown more directly at Danny, not quite sure if he was looking for confirmation or asking a question of his own.

Cuz, y’know, other than the whole “protecting until his haunt formed” (and Jason certainly didn’t need protecting), that sounded a lot like what Danny had been doing. Which would totally make it weird if Jason was a knight to his own ghost-dad.

Clearly following the same lines, Danny raised both hands and shook his head, almost but not quite stepping out of reach.

“Oh no, it’s not me. You’ve had a ghost parent long before I came along,” he said emphatically, the sudden panic on his face making Jason feel better about his own response to surprise parenthood.

He magnanimously decided not to tease Danny about it, turning instead to give Frostbite a questioning look.

“Should I know who my ghost parent is? Who gets to decide?” He asked cautiously. He’d never met another ghost before Danny, but he had this awful sinking feeling that Ra’s al Ghul might have more to do with the realms than just the pits, and he was the closest proxy. Even Tallia would be better. Maybe even Bruce.

Reading his tension, Frostbite clapped a massive furry hand on Jason’s shoulder, smile and aura both full of comfort-reassurance-calm.

“Normally yes young knight, though yours is a special case. Usually when a young ghost first finds its way to the realms, one of the first ghosts they encounter will take them under their wing. It is an honour to care for a young ghost, and a halfa even more so,” he explained gently.

Beside Jason, Danny snorted loudly.

“Oh, yeah, they totally come running to play happy families. Super wholesome,” he grumbled, arms folded as he leaned back into Jason’s weight.

Honestly, Jason could kinda spot common threads between what Frostbite just said and what Danny had told him about Fight Club; the play fighting was supposed to be about sharing powers, right? Just, y’know, between people with shit verbal communication to actually check in that everyone was on the same page.

The yeti sighed fondly, his hand moving from Jason’s shoulder to rest proudly on Danny’s. Given the width of Danny’s shoulders respective to the hand, the last two fingers were back on Jason’s other shoulder.

“Again, Great One, your circumstances were also exceptional. You did not explore the Ghost Zone until after you had established yourself to many as a competent fighter and protector of your haunt, which along with certain… adventures led most to believe you were far older than you are,” Frostbite explained patiently, with just the faintest hint that they’d been through this before.

Danny rolled his eyes and shot Jason double finger guns.

“Yyyyup, which is why I don’t have to deal with any of this “ghost parent” business,” he agreed brightly, tipping Jason a smirk, “get good.”

Jason flipped him off, but there was something… not in his aura, Frostbite’s was still very carefully toned back all calm medical professional, but in the creasing of the yeti’s eyes. Now, ghost yetis were definitely a new species and Batman drilled them all on the dangers of extrapolating body language on new species, but Jason had done his time on alien planets.

Something in the change, something in the shift, a little quirk of the brow Jason had noted when the yeti was amused. There was something funny here, and it wasn’t Danny’s quip.

Putting his suspicions aside for now, Jason settled on the more pressing matter.

“So who is my ghost parent? When do I get to meet them?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t accidentally imprinted on Ra’s or Tallia. Cuz he hadn’t been in the Zone before Danny either.

Danny himself, much less concerned, waved a hand vaguely.

“Oh, we’ll deal with that on the way home. Go do a proper meet and greet, that sort of thing,” he said nonchalantly, and Jason’s shoulders settled a little.

“They’re in the Zone then?” He prodded a little further, not fully willing to let the matter just drop. If he had to ghost-emancipate himself, he’d rather be ready sooner than later.

Danny grinned toothily at him.

“Usually. We’ll see if she’s around, but it might have to be another day. Gotta deal with our other list first, like if our whole halfa deal is gonna do anything to the knight thing, or your core coming in,” he added, looking expectantly at Frostbite.

Jason almost missed what he said next as his heart skipped a beat, a possibility he’d never even considered slamming home.

She.

Someone dead, if they were in the Ghost Zone.

Someone who’d claimed him as her son long ago, guided him as best she could. Someone he’d never expected to see again, not even having died and returned to life himself.

No chance, he told himself quickly, hurriedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. About his bond with Danny, about their shared fucked biology, about his whole undead future.

There was no point dredging up the past until he actually knew.

Frostbite was back in his familiar role of teacher, that same proud/warm/fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked at Danny.

“For your bond, Great One, I am not sure what I would even test for. The young knight presently has no ghost form, yet the bond is present exactly as if he had. I am afraid we have no records of former halfas, so any problems which occurred before are long lost.”

The yeti gave the tablet another few careful claw strokes, pulling up lines and lines of scrolling numbers and data beside each of their silhouettes on the wall screen. Forcing himself to the present, Jason scanned them quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t actually make heads or tails of it; ghost vitals couldn’t really include things like heartbeat, blood oxygenation, or anything they’d test for in the med bay.

Not until Bruce found out about all this crap anyway - Jason wouldn’t put it past him to try and buy out everything the Far Frozen had in his latest snit of paranoia. The second he got over his “oh no Jason is going somewhere I can’t supervise him”, obviously.

Frostbite clearly knew what it all meant though, highlighting a couple of different areas where Danny’s numbers were very different from Jason’s and giving him that reassuring smile.

“After your first transformation I would expect some of these to change, and it is likely that any differences in your particular bond would show then as well. Your ghost form will of course be entirely ectoplasmic, so the bond will be more present than it is even now.”

That snapped Jason from his internal flailing, and he grimaced at the reminder.

Because… yeah. They’d talked a lot about his first transformation, he and Danny. But the only thing Danny hadn’t really known was when to expect it.

“Yeah… about that. I know the basics, inversion of my moment of death crap, I’ll be able to change it eventually, yadda yadda,” and that was its own sword of Damacles hanging with the mistletoe, “but… when will it happen? Like, will it just… happen? Or will I… yeah.”

Even wording the question made him feel like the whole thing was just too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; what to look for? Would there be symptoms? Would he just un-die again in the street?

Luckily Frostbite seemed much more comfortable, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. Jason’s scan took over the full screen once more, zoomed in on the two orbs in his chest.

They were pulsing too, growing brighter and dimmer along with the more defined throb of the ectoplasm. Which was actually when he noticed that both cores were throbbing, so… was Pitty also a knight?

That was going on the list of questions for Clockwork like, yesterday. If he could get it its own little fear gun…

“As you can see, your core is still fuzzy around the edges and incompletely formed; once these edges have smoothed out, you will hypothetically be able to transform at any time,” Frostbite explained, blissfully aware of Jason’s new train of thought.

Probably for the best. Jason reluctantly refocused on the screen, tabling the idea of Sir Pitty for now. Nice to have something actually positive to look forward to.

He didn’t really remember seeing much of the screen during his last appointment, but he had seen the perfect sphere of Danny’s core, and his looked… well, like Frostbite said, smaller and kinda fuzzy. Like a ball of dough after it started sticking to your hands and losing its shape.

He frowned and nodded, looking back to Frostbite and then glancing around at Danny.

“So not until the next appointment, probably? Will it just… happen out of nowhere? Or will I need to trigger it?” It kinda helped, narrowing the scope. Dealing with it one step at a time.

Danny gave a helpless shrug.

“My powers started activating randomly, but I didn’t actually transform until I was in danger. Not like, life threatening danger,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like he’d heard Pitty’s growl… or maybe Jason had echoed it. “It was just Lunch Lady, she was never gonna really hurt us. She just made a mess and tried to feed everyone meat.”

Jason privately added Lunch Lady to his “asses to kick” list. On principle.

Frostbite gave a thoughtful nod, a large hand clapping down on Jason’s shoulder a lot harder than he’d probably intended. He didn’t flinch, but before his pit-growth-spurt it might have knocked him over.

“We can experiment more once your core is complete here in the Zone, and I would recommend waiting until Pitty has been expelled, if possible. Of course, any other changes in your knighthood bond will likely make themselves known with your first change as well,” the yeti mused, quite pleased with the idea.

Jason hesitated before agreeing, worry twisting through him again before he tamped it back down.

He wasn’t that scared little boy anymore; not inside. Besides, the bond was already firmly in place.

His soul was resonating a pace behind Danny’s.

It wasn’t like that little trip back to the moment of his death was gonna make Danny suddenly reject him.

The poor guy was probably stuck with Jason for life anyway at this point, which for a pair of halfas meant pretty much forever.

**

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down. He was painfully aware that the first one, the one he’d already shown to Superman and Wonder Woman, only had two words in it.

Diana’s Judgement.

She hadn’t technically invoked it yet. Had never bothered asking exactly what he meant by it; she wasn’t one to back down from hard subjects, which meant she’d also never bothered hiding how little she thought of his contingency plans.

His League-specific ones, anyway. She liked the ones he had for the rogues and various end of the world crises.

It meant moments like this, where she would give him her honest, simple judgement and reign him in.

(Technically it also meant that he trusted her to decide when she needed to snap his neck, but Martian Manhunter always looked at him with disappointment when he thought about that side too much.)

Looking back to her face, he managed to meet her eyes and nod once. It went against every instinct he had, every year of experience and loss, but…

If he couldn’t do things he didn’t like, he’d never have become Batman.

**

Head spinning with a plethora of new information, bag of ecto candies in hand, Jason deliberately slowed down to let Danny precede him out of Frostbite’s office.

That little suspicion had been growing, kindling the more they discussed halfa anatomy and bonds, and honestly? Yes, he had been using it as an excuse to think about something other than his own problems.

Danny seemed not to notice, disappearing past the doorway as Jason looked up at Frostbite. Figured fuck it; he didn’t know how much time he had. Best be blunt.

“You’re Danny’s ghost parent, aren’t you?” He asked, knowing from the yeti’s face as he did that he was right.

The way it froze for just a moment, eyes flicking to the door Danny had just left through. Then the smile that spread, knowing and secretive as he bent down for the first time to put his face on Jason’s level.

“He takes such pleasure in believing he does not have one; the Great One values his independence highly, and his history with parental figures is… complex. It can be our secret, yes?” The yeti winked.

Jason hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all he knew about Danny’s home life. It wasn’t actually all that much; Danny probably actually knew more about Jason’s, after the last week.

That wasn’t just a rarity, it was practically unheard of for any of the former Robins, and Jason knew exactly how Dick and Harley would react to that information.

They’d accuse him of growth. Gross. They couldn’t be told.

And yeah, maybe Jason had a bit of a personal understanding of why Danny wouldn’t want an overabundance of parental figures around. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, not really, but Jason knew enough verses of the song.

All teen heroes tended to have certain things in common, the biggest of which was whatever parental figure they had failing to protect them. Failing to keep them from the darkness, forcing a kid to take on a mantle and burdens that they never should have.

He’d wanted to pound Bruce’s bones to pulp for putting another kid in his cape. Wound up nearly pounding Tim’s instead, however the pit and Tallia had twisted things to make that seem like the same thing.

And Danny hadn’t just picked up the mantle of Teen Hero. He’d picked up a crown, a whole realm of responsibilities and rulership over the dead.

Personally, Jason thought Danny was missing out on an easy dodge of king duties by not finding his ghost parent; Clockwork was his regent but still apparently bothered him for work.

A parent ruling until the child was of age was behind most of the most brutal regicides in any monarchic system; the dead had to know about it.

But that’d mean Clockwork bothering Frostbite at all hours, possibly. Or Clockwork finding new excuses to keep checking on a crown prince Jason had already seen was a handful.

Yeah, he could see why no one really challenged Danny’s assertion that he didn’t have a ghost parent.

Jason spared a moment wondering about his own again.

He knew better than to hope, he really did. Catherine Todd deserved much better than an afterlife of watching over his many mistakes. If there was any justice to death, she’d moved straight past the realms and into the most perfect of paradises.

He liked to think she’d be proud of him. Of the work he’d done, the good he’d spread through the Alley even if it was on the end of a gun.

So long as it wasn’t any form of al Ghul whatsoever, Jason was pretty sure he could handle any other ghost parent the multiverse could throw at him.

Danny’s head poked back around the corner, grinning in a very worried way between the two of them.

“Everything okay back here?” He asked with some of the worst overhyped cheer Jason had ever heard.

Alright, maybe Danny would actually also have been a problem for ghost parent. Because Jason thought he was hot. Because he was an awful mother hen even as a friend.

Jason raised his bag of ecto candies.

“Just checking how many of these I can safely have in a day,” he said innocently, and kinda hoped Danny didn’t actually feel the wash of Frostbite’s approval as the yeti straightened.

That would give the game away.

“They are not a substitute for sleep or nutrition for your human form,” Frostbite told him, as if that was what they’d been talking about.

Jason sighed heavily, doing his best impression of Tim being handed decaf.

“Listen, a guy can hope?”

“Oh you’re not gonna win that one,” Danny snickered, brightening with the distraction and all but skipping in to take Jason’s arm, “let’s scram before he gets the powerpoints.”

Frostbite gave them a cheerful wave on the way out the door, and Jason managed a mostly sincere smile as Danny began regaling him on some of his teenaged attempts to persuade Frostbite to let him give up sleep for finals week.

Yeah, he might add the Fenton parents to the butt-kicking list. Below the ghosts, obviously, for whom butt-kicking was a social courtesy.

But, y’know. If he ever got the chance to have a quiet word about taking care of your damn kids.

———————

And here we have Part 1! Imma just yeet it up so you can all get started while I edit Part 2, because again, this is a Girthy One without an easier breakpoint 👀

I’ll still try and get Part 2 done tonight, but I’ve kept y’all waiting long enough

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai i @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

Part Two:

[willow-does-stuff]

INTRO POST!!!

hiya! welcome to whatever this is!!

i am very much new to this site, i don’t really know what i’m doing soooo bear with me please 😭😭

don’t be surprised if this post gets edited a lot. i’m the most indecisive person i know 😰 + my hyperfixations and content might change and such

please check out my pronouns.cc!

♡ you can call me willow :>

♡ i use she/they/it, as well as e/em/es and fae/faer, but i don’t really expect anyone to use those 😭

♡ i wont be sharing my real age on here, but i am a minor!!

♡ i am lesbian and genderqueer, but i’m very fem leaning (to both)

♡ my mental health stuff is a mess, but as of now i can safely say i have ADHD (or at least ADD), anxiety and depression. however, autism and ocd are a big maybe???? idk

what do i even post ????

here are some of my interests (idk what classifies a special intrest?) those bolded are the ones i’ll probably reblog/post the most about!

steven universe

sally face

gravity falls

undertale

deltarune

doki doki literature club

class of 09

detroit: become human

yandere simulator (I DO NOT SUPPORT THE DEV PLEASE SPARE ME)

stardew valley

fnaf

what remains of edith finch

animal crossing

titanic!!!

six

ride the cyclone

hamilton

heathers

taylor swift

chappell roan

to be a bit more broad, here’s the kind of content i might post

art

au

random analysis/thoughts

general fandom-ness

yapping

ALSO! i’m planning on posting some stuff about an au i’m making ! it’s sally face + ddlc related !! i’m probably going to make a separate blog + hashtag for it for both of our conveniences. i’ll keep y’all posted if you’re interested!!!!

quick DNI/boundaries

PLEASE keep nsfw and similar off my page!! do not send asks about it, don’t reblog/comment about it, just please keep it away T_T

i have pretty bad entomophobia + arachnophobia (fear of insects + spiders), so i’d prefer if you didn’t bring up/talk about those topics on my page really heavily as it usually leads to some bad intrusive thoughts :( also no pictures of bugs please unless they’re heavily cartoony or whatever tyyyy

really just don’t be rude to me or anyone here. you’re allowed to dislike or hate me or my interests, but you are NOT allowed to harass me or anyone else about it. please don’t publicly hate on my art, content, or interests on my page. if you don’t like my content, scroll or block me. i promise i won’t be offended!!

i don’t have much of a DNI, it’s really just basic stuff. don’t be a bad person and don’t be a jerk and we’re all good!

just know that i will not hesitate to block anyone who makes me uncomfortable or is rude.

that’s… all i can think of to put! tysm for reading, i know it gets kinda long. if you have similar interests as me, feel free to follow!! byeeeee!!!

*all pics are from pinterest*

[mirahuyooo]

Prompt 1 with joon? Throwback in the baby au hehehhe

001. “Can I come over?” + kim namjoon

— Namjoon’s baby now has an actual baby

word count: 1,338 contents: FLUFFY FLUFF, roMANCE, whoLESOME VIBES, established relationship (husband & wife), KIM NAMJOON as YOUR HUSBAND AAAAA, joon calling you baby ✋😩, Jimin & Tae being absolute menaces but they’re your absolute menaces, baby on the way! Y/N is planning a reveal soon uwu (Takes place before Baby) pairing: kim namjoon x reader

[masterlist] | check out more of [Four Years with Mira]!  

A/N: ANON!!! I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGGG I’m going through the last of my semester rn and I have to complete some requirements 👉😭👈  I’m back writing again tho!! I also assumed you meant the “Baby” imagine I wrote two years ago lmao I hope y’all like this one! 💖💗💕

The gold band now bound on your ring finger glints under the light of the side table lampshade. The sight of it elicits butterflies in your belly, along with a soft, giddy smile you had to bite back. 

Seven months have passed since you heard the hushed awes and soft piano music. 

Seven months have passed since you saw him waiting for you down the aisle.

Seven months have passed since you became Mrs Kim, wife to your other half. 

Married life with Kim Namjoon, you find, has paradoxically changed and didn't change a lot of things in your life. Love with him is still so consistently devoted and wholesome that you hardly felt any drastic change between the two of you, and yet your heart has never felt more secure, more safe, and more loved than ever before. 

“Joon, can I come over?”

“Of course, baby,” your husband gladly says on the other line. You can almost feel the warmth of his dimpled smile. "Let me know when you're here so I can come down and fetch you, hm?"

It was something of a habit that'll never die, you suppose—one of the many things that didn't and will never change. 

Like before, you would go to his studio if you had time to spare, and like before, you would bring along some food for the both of you to eat while he gives you a little insight on what he's working on. A hand of his habitually rests on your thigh, as the two of you chew on jajangmyeon while one of his latest works play faintly in the background and you both share thoughts. 

"I've been thinking of changing the bea—"

A ringtone sounds through the air, cutting  Namjoon's words short and soiling the serene atmosphere. You lift your head from his shoulder and anticipate what the call meant as he picks it up, especially when you know the ringtone is the one he has for work. 

"Hyung?" he says to what you assume is one of their producers. 

You don't understand much of the conversation aside from the somber expression that seizes your husband's face. Namjoon's brows are furrowed, his tongue prodding at his cheek as he digests the words of whoever was at the other end of the line, humming in agreement and responding once in a while. 

You have a feeling you already know what's going to happen next. 

The apologetic smile he flashes you mid conversation confirms your brewing thoughts, far before he ends the call. “I’m sorry, baby,” Namjoon begrudgingly sighs, tucking his phone away as he rests his head on your shoulder for a moment, not wanting to leave in spite of having to. “I have to go to a meeting about the album.”

As expected. 

Namjoon, ever an artist of his craft, still keeps most of his masterpieces under his sleeve until he’s satisfied with them, the two of you having made a tradition out of spending a night together at home to react to his work in full. (Mostly, the time is spent with you gushing and squealing over his songs while he sits beside you in a mess of bashful dimpled smiles and shy deep giggles.)

You press your lips where you could—the crook of his neck left a bit open by his loose-fitting sweatshirt. “It’s okay, Joonie,” you sweetly assure him, in spite of your crestfallen heart already sick with needy longing. “I’ll just hang around here, until you’re done.”

You two exit his studio, Namjoon taking his time walking on his way to the meeting when Jimin and Taehyung come to the hallway. Their eyes light up at the sight of you, wide grins as they skip towards you both.

“Noona! Hyung!”

Namjoon feels a bit better with leaving you, really, knowing well that the boys are great company until he’s done with his meeting. "I'll be back, baby," he smiles, lips pressing a tender kiss on your forehead before the two boys link either of your arms with theirs.  

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Jimin huffs, light-heartedly rolling his eyes as he tugs you over to them. “We’ll be at the practice room when you need us!”

The two of them don’t wait for Namjoon’s response, pulling you along with them towards their practice room, where the faint thrum of music already reaches your ears. “Noona, I forget your name at this point, really,” Jimin is quick to tease, jokingly sighing and shaking his head. 

“How could you?” you dramatically gasp with a smack to his back, the young man only laughing in response.

Taehyung clearly agrees, poking at your side to join Jimin’s little teasing game. “He’s right though. Namjoon-hyung only ever calls you baby,” he muses, the two of them grinning like they heard the juiciest gossip in the building. “Heck, I have no doubt the baby will think that, too!”

In spite of the blush that sets your cheeks on fire, you merely scoff. "Don't be ridiculous," you say as you shush Taehyung, “and keep your voice down, will you?”

Though you and your husband certainly have your fun, Namjoon assured you he was in no rush to have children. His baby fever has waned in the recent years, but you hardly had any doubts your husband wouldn't step up to the responsibility of being a father, especially to you, whom he swore his forever to. 

The universe, knowing this well, saw it fit to give you its blessing to parenthood. Jimin and Taehyung were the first to know, having seen your pregnancy test results by accident before swearing to keep the news in secrecy and helping you plan the reveal.

Jimin gasps quietly as he realizes it. “Right,” he whispers, leaning in to scold Taehyung in a meager, secretive hiss. “We haven’t made plans for the reveal yet, remember?”

The man in question, too, gasps and covers his mouth, the three of you looking like idiots bunched in a circle together outside the practice rooms. “Oh, shit,” he curses under his breath, “sorry. I’m just excited to be an uncle.”

“Why would you be an uncle?”

It must’ve been ridiculous how your souls left your bodies for a moment, the three of you whipping your heads toward the familiar voice who caught wind of Taehyung’s excitement. Your husband stands, not far from you all, an eyebrow raised in confusion.  “Nothing, hyung,” Jimin—bless him—quickly pipes, covering the fact that their leader and his baby are going to have an actual baby. “What brings you here so soon?”

In Namjoon’s hands were your phone and a hard drive, which he must’ve retrieved from his studio for the meeting. He shows your phone to you, the screen displaying a notification from a missed call. “You left your phone on the table and it was ringing,” your husband says, “It’s from a Doctor Young? Are you still sick, baby?”

You thank the stars your husband doesn’t seem to realize what the call means. He must’ve not been able to answer it in time to know about the ultrasound sonogram you asked for your doctor to print out. “I’m fine,” you assure him as you take your phone, giving his cheek a kiss to further ease him. “I just went to Doctor Young for a check up last week, remember?”

Worry swims in his eyes as he looks at you, some doubt still lingering. If your doctor had to call you back, then there must be something wr—

A squeeze to his hand knocks him out of his stupor. “Trust me, Joon,” you smile up at him, before nodding to the hard drive disk that remained in his hold. “Besides, don’t you have a meeting to go to?”

Reminded of his agenda, Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit, you’re right,” he gasps, looking at his own phone for the time. With a fleeting kiss stolen from your lips, your husband sprints off to another direction. “I’ll fetch you as soon as I’m done!”

God, you love that man.

[stonerskinny]

why does alcohol have so many cals 😭

weighed at 277 just now, it really is crazy what a single 💩 and a nap will do for you LMAO

now do i want to risk ruining that w alc and possible binging or do i just go back 2 sleep and be good

i’m 22hrs into this fast meaning if i skip going out and having fun i can take my sleep meds and probably get to 36hrs easy but i can also see the scenario where they just don’t kick in and i end up binging anyway plus i just was aiming for 18hrs

ugh why are there so many ways this could go

the switch is flipping actively, i think. who knew i just needed to get out of the cycle for a night.

i feel like i have something to prove. which i hesitate to admit, but it’s true. apparently when all your friends are restricters and your entire ed is just you failing at restricting, theres some interesting shame stuff that comes up LOL sometimes i just feel like a lazy gross piece of shit compared to everyone in my life because i am like this unhinged fucking glutton and everyone else has the discipline i’d commit war crimes to have

i feel like a wannarexic sometimes which i basically am

i just want to do something right and the only thing i care about is this which i am royally terrible at. sometimes it’s like all i know how to do is eat, doesn’t matter that i purge because im so big.

you know i’m gonna have to lose just over 2/3 my body weight to get to where i wanna be. that’s a lot of fucking weight and there’s no way i end up without loose skin so basically im fucked if i lose to where i wanna be, and fucked if i go crazy and decide to recover because i’ll still be huge. maybe if i actually worked out i wouldn’t end up w so much loose skin or if i did this slowly but slowly pisses me off because my brain is all about that instant gratification

the longer i’m awake the more i want to binge fuck

but i know i will regret it. i knowwwww i will. because ill feel bloated and ill gain and it’ll fucking suck. or ill purge, one of the two. there’s no excuse for it though. this body does not need food, it has PLENTY of natural resources to live on lmao.

i wish i didn’t most likely have the hellscape combo of hypothyroidism + PCOS which both individually make weight loss hard and weight gain so easy. but at the same time i can’t erase my failure by crying about genetics, if i really wanted to get there i’d already have gotten there long ago so now im just wasting everyone’s time.

can u tell the suicidality came back so strong tonite lol

i wonder how many ppl actually read these monstrosities that i write. how many ppl actually absorb my thoughts. trippy

sometimes i think i don’t actually have an eating disorder at all because i am just so inconsistent with anything besides binging. which i know is its own ed but let my silly little rat brain have its moment.

also apparently i literally sleep like the dead bc my hr was 40 when i was sleeping earlier so that’s fun no wonder i wake up feeling like a fucking corpse every day

okay that’s all for now i’ll spare y’all the rest of my brain while i lay here and mentally debate the pros and cons of both trazodone and tequila

[shadowqueenjude]

Ok Emerie and Nuan: how would they meet?

(also y’all tell me if I should continue this)

Emerie had a wild smile on her face as she cut through the crowd of Illyrians. With Nesta’s death powers on their side and the newly formed Valkyrie group, the shocked Illyrian warriors stood no chance. After some killings, the men began to surrender; they knew they were overpowered. They allowed Emerie to take the women, and it was not long before they’d all been rounded up. Emerie gently sent a teenage girl into the crowd before walking to the front to high-five Gwyn and Nesta. “Another fabulous win, girls. These Valkyries are good enough to revive the legend.” Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie shared conspiratorial grins.

“Where will you be taking this lot?” Nesta asked Emerie, popping one of her homemade samosas into her mouth. “The House of Wind sanctuary is nearly full.”

Emerie shook her head. “No…this group was pretty bad. I think it’s time we take these ladies where they really need to go: the center of healing.”

“Dawn Court?” Nesta asked. “But who will take you there?”

Emerie shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, you two need to keep my shop running.” They nodded. “Half the girls can go sleep in the library for the night. The other half is coming with me.”

As Nesta and Gwyn heralded half of the group to the House of Wind, Emerie guided the other half to her own shop. She allowed the women inside, loosening a tile on the floorboard. Underneath it was a ladder that led into a small bunker. Emerie had had it constructed herself in the off chance that she had to do something such as this. She just hadn’t imagined being able to save this many at once.

“If you can’t descend the ladder on your own, tell me,” she said as the ladies formed a line, descending into the bunker one by one. Most were able to get down safely, albeit shakily. A couple of them, Emerie had to carry down the ladder. She was amazed at how strong she had gotten in the past few months. She would’ve been her father’s dream child-if she was a male, that is.

Emerie closed her eyes, thought of her rage towards her father, then let it go like dust on the wind. She tried to give each person a warm blanket from her clothing store, but it was difficult. Emerie technically had a double salary now: one from her business, and one from being a Valkyrie. As a result, she had no problem giving away these clothes for free. They were more important than this business, anyhow.

“Sleep tight, ladies,” Emerie said. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Emerie was no healer, but she tried her best to keep the women with severe injuries from getting any worse. Hopefully the Dawn Court would have better things to offer. When she figured out how to get there, at least.

The next day, Emerie tamped down her nerves, finding her best dress to appear before the High Lord of the Night Court. She didn’t trust the male by a long shot; she knew there was bad blood between him and Nesta, and Emerie had a feeling that there was a lot more that Nesta wasn’t telling her and Gwyn. But there was no one else to go to.

Emerie hadn’t worn this dress before because it was once her mother’s, plus it was a little more revealing than she preferred. But seeing how Rhysand’s right hand woman Mor dressed, Emerie suspected that he would appreciate this style of dressing.

The walk from her shop to the residence of Rhysand wasn’t long, especially with her new Valkyrie training. She hardly broke a sweat walking up to the entrance. The guards hardly spared her a glance before letting her in. Emerie swept by them, ignoring the way her stilettos pinched her heels and toes.

She found the Morrigan lounging on a couch nearby, her head in some papers. Emerie looked away. She had a major, frankly embarrassing crush on the woman. It was ridiculous, really; Emerie hadn’t had many female idols to look up to as a child, so the legendary Morrigan who had escaped the Hewn City to become one of the greatest warriors, who was so old she was practically a goddess, had been her idol. Training with her while becoming a Valkyrie had brought to her attention how beautiful she was too. But everything she had learned about her from Nesta made her want to punch her in the face. She wished she could erase her attraction to her too.

“I need to speak with the High Lord,” Emerie said, projecting her voice with authority. Morrigan looked up at her. Emerie willed herself not to react to her big brown eyes staring at her. “He is busy,” Morrigan said dismissively. Bitch. “Come back another day.”

“No,” Emerie snapped, glaring down at her. “This is an emergency.”

Morrigan still demonstrated little sign of urgency aside from placing her papers to the side. “For whom?”

“A group of Illyrian women, if you care,” Emerie snapped. Probably not, since you’ve been sitting on your ass all this time; those thoughts, however, remained unspoken. Morrigan stood up, her papers forgotten. She was in a tight red dress with cuts between her breasts, up the sides of her legs, and around her hips. Did she just dress like that on a regular basis?

“I’ll get you an audience,” she said, striding away. Emerie hurried after her. Emerie found Morrigan knocking on a door with an antique finish that reminded Emerie uncomfortably of her own father’s office door.

After several minutes, the High Lord of Night opened the door, irritation stark in his violet eyes. Emerie refused to be intimidated; this was his job she was doing: protecting his people.

“I need help transporting around thirty women to the Dawn Court,” Emerie said before Rhysand could interrupt. His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Emerie suppressed the answer she wanted to give: Why do you think? Instead with forced calm, she answered, “These are Illyrian women who have been abused by the males in their family. Some are hurt-badly. I need to get them out, and the current sanctuary is nearly full.”

Rhysand nodded. “I’ll arrange for that. Wait on top of the House of Wind.” Emerie held in her sigh of relief until she was far away from Rhysand and Morrigan.

While Emerie waited at the top of the House of Wind with the girls, she saw a small group of people with wings coming. Emerie saw red when she realized that one of them was the high lady herself. How dare she, a child not of Night, take their wings as her own while refusing to help the people who lose them every day…

The entire Inner Circle aside from Nesta’s mate was there along with two strange shadowy-looking things that looked similar to Azriel.

“Are the women ready?” Rhysand asked. Emerie nodded. Then they began winnowing the ladies away, or in the shadowsingers and other shadow-like creatures (what were they called again? wraths? that didn’t sound right), melting into darkness. Rhysand himself winnowed her.

When she arrived at the Dawn Court, Emerie was stunned into silence. The soft orange glow of the sky was so peaceful, and even from this distance the buildings looked majestic. The crowd had gathered there, and Emerie pushed herself to the front of the line to speak to border patrol.

“Hello,” she said. Best to be brief and pull rank. “I am Emerie. Carynthian and Valkyrie. Some of these girls are badly injured, and our High Lord requests that you allow these ladies to be healed by the greatest healers Prythian has to offer.”

The guards raised a brow at her qualifications, but they nodded. “You may go in,” the leader said. Emerie gestured to the Illyrians, and for the first time, they entered another court of Prythian.

[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

Weapon of Choice "live"blog

yeah sorry it's really long so i'm putting it under a cut.

also obviously spoilers for this episode but also spoilers for the whole Gallifrey series as i mention a few future plot points.

i swear to god i can recite this entire episode from memory. it’s so engrained in me.

Nepenthe’s description of the bondspeople (slaves) is such a good parallel to Leela’s role in Gallifrey. she is tied to this planet forever whether she wants to or not and when she leaves, she will be condemned to death.

also. thinky thoughts on why the Warpsmiths changed to Warpwrights and why the element of their being non-corporeal was almost entirely dropped. i mean. i think the human slavery thing was maybe not the right tone for future Gallifrey releases & i think there were copyright issues with the term “Warpsmiths” but i like to imagine that sometime in the gap between season 6 & Enemy Lines, there was some sort of civil conflict that led to two factions – Warpsmiths vs Warpwrights. maybe the Warpwrights advocated an end to the bondspeople/slavery aspect of their existence and advocated for a permanent corporeal existence (maybe through synthetic bodies or something?) rather than temporarily inhabiting various humans for 80 years at a time. idk. i’m desperate for more worldbuilding around the temporal powers.

forever really want to study Andred’s weird political opinions. he obviously isn’t as xenophobic as other Time Lords (not a high bar to clear btw) and he does genuinely see aliens as people but the weird pretense of xenophobia he’s had to maintain in his disguise as Torvald (if it was ever a pretense) has just warped his view & moral compass so much… he’s fascinating to me.

i'll never love anyone as much as I love the s1-3 theme song.

NARVIN. BRAX. I MISSED THEM SO MUCH.

i genuinely don’t think I’ve listened to any Brax audios since I finished my novel-length character study about him so uh. this will be interesting.

i love Narvin & Brax’s shitty workplace relationship so much. they are such good foils to each other (i’ll expand on this in a future post i’m sure)

ROMANA. MY WIFE. I’VE MISSED HER.

Seán Carlsen is simply so good at playing Narvin. he’s always so earnest when he could have just portrayed Narvin as another sleazy Time Lord. but Narvin cares so much! even if before his character development it's for the wrong things!

Narvin saying that Project Alpha is “hardly relevant” after knowing the events of The Inquiry is SO FUCKING FUNNY. man really lost a version of the device they’re looking for, literally saw it vanish in front of him, and then thought this has absolutely no bearing on the fact that someone now claiming to have this device. i know you were trying to cover your ass here but... c'mon.

WHAT DOES BRAX MEAN WHEN HE SAYS THAT NARVIN & HIM ARE THE LAST SURVIVING TIME LORDS TO KNOW ABOUT PROJECT ALPHA??? like Time Lords live for thousands of years and Narvin & Brax are both implied to be pretty young during Project Alpha and were the most junior members involved. like did the CIA really kill everyone else associated with the project? why spare Brax? why was no one else recruited to the CIA like Narvin? (it is a recurring minor problem i have with the show that the entire span of events from here to the Time War could only cover a couple of hundred years which. is not that long for Time Lords. and yet anyone else who worked in the government or CIA before Romana’s presidency is entirely gone after s3. sure a lot of them probably died in the Civil War but all of them? did they all see the mess that was happening and just nope out? i mean i know in a novel i think it was stated that there was a big overhaul of the government after Trial of a Time Lord due to general corruption (which is how Romana got so high up in politics so quickly) but… i need more answers y’all)

LEELA.

i really wish we got to see her and the Outsiders together more (on Gallifrey Prime at least). like she ostensibly had contact with them since before the series (and i headcanon that she often went to stay with them on trips away from the Capitol) so she never really talks about them. could she feel herself growing more distant from them over time as she became more engrained in the fabric of Gallifreyan politics? as she became more and more of a Time Lord without her even noticing?

still so fucked up that we never actually get to see Andred & Leela happy (in the audios at least, they are in Lungbarrow together!)

lots of feelings about how the Outsiders are so removed from Time Lord society that they can’t tell the difference between a Cardinal & a Guard because presumably they associate any uniformed Time Lord with the Chancellery Guard as that’s the only body of Time Lord society they have contact with

"Many of these arrivals claim they cannot return to their own time. Apparently. Oh you wouldn’t believe the excuses. ‘Oh the Daleks will get us!’" Obviously Narvin at this point is just hideously xenophobic but god the fact that he’s making fun of refugees from the Dalek wars when that will eventually become himself is so wonderfully prophetic. Especially as when this was written, the Dalek version of the Time War didn’t exist yet.

obsessed with how Narvin rolls the r in Gryben in this scene. hello? i don’t remember him every rolling his rs again.

it’s been said a million times but Romana’s hypocrisy in being extremely moderate in her compassion for refugees as a whole but entirely compassionate to Leela (albeit in a patronizing way) is so delicious and is never really something that she makes an effort to fix over the course of the series. like. again she’s less xenophobic than other Time Lords but the amount she cares and is willing to make exceptions is so deeply attached to her personal feelings. (which is perhaps the reason why she’s always making exceptions for herself both out of egotism & self-hatred)

again it’s been said before but Narvin’s character development from here to being the leader of a resistance movement against Gallifrey is so fucking delicious

“If I knew anymore, I would tell you.” says the woman who allegedly has access to all of the information recorded in the universe

my Andred/Leela & Romana thoughts deserve a separate post. stay tuned.

i don’t normally outright headcanon a lot of characters with specific disabilities/neurodivergencies but Leela is autistic and i will die on this hill

i’ll never be over how absolutely horrible all of these characters are at intelligence work despite all of them, at one point or another, working for supposedly the most powerful intelligence organization in the universe

“Lapdog of Rassilon” is such a loaded insult considering the future of this show

Leela’s monologue about how she hates the Time Lords will never not be so good. and her criticisms of them are so well followed through the rest of the show

Leela threatening to kill “Torvald” from Andred’s perspective is so wonderfully fucked up and tragic

“That’s so CIA. All intervention, no intelligence.” has to be one of the funniest lines in the show tbh.

the true eventual role reversal in this show is that in ep 1, Braxiatel is the only character talking sense and being reasonable and by the end of the show he’ll be threatening to destroy most of the universe to save a single planet (i have complicated feelings about Beyond but. i love that he got so much Worse)

“Torvald” insulting Andred to Leela’s face by calling him liberal will never not be funny

“We are all of us willing to die to defend our beliefs.” GOD THIS LINE!!!!! it’s really one of my favorites in the whole series because it’s such wonderful foreshadowing because 1) as we’ve all pointed out numerous times, Romana reallllly can’t stop martyring herself. as in. she tries to kill herself “for the greater good” at least 20 times in this series (literally in half of the episodes she appears in). 2) though her self sacrificing nature remains consistent, over time and especially in the Time War series, she tries to self sacrifice more and more for her friends, not for Gallifrey or for lofty ideals (this can probably best be seen in Unity where Romana’s supposed last words to a Dalek she knows will kill her is “I will never betray those I love”). 3) aside from Romana specifically, it’s also just kind of the main thesis of the show. Wynter dies in an effort to stop Pandora/save Gallifrey. Andred dies because he finally decided his loyalties to genuine compassion for people means more than politics. Braxiatel sacrifices himself to Pandora to save Romana. even villains like Darkel die because she so adamantly won’t budge from her traditionalist/conservative views. as the Doctor would say – "Who I am is where I stand and where I stand is where I fall."

THAT’S THE TROUBLE WITH BEING A MARTYR. WE DON’T BACK DOWN, DO WE?

the mention that one day Braxiatel will own a K9 is one of the things that I was never quite able to fit into atbm

“I only go forward.” ironic statement from a woman who was literally created to bring back an ancient line of dictators

the fact that Arkadian is only in three episodes is such a travesty. he’s the only character aware that of the genre that he’s in and he’s having a blast with that self-awareness

Romana’s last line here being “I’m planning on keeping this job for a very, very long time.” ends up being so sinister knowing what she does to keep her position, how she eventually keeps trying to escape the Presidency & Gallifrey and yet it always draws her back in…

hey

did you know that i really love this series?

[wench-and-jezebel]

Dark Angel Reaction: Art Attack

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)

We had spare time before this episode, so have fun with our bonus content! Link available here!

– – –

["Must be a guy thing" Ah, yes, women don't exercise]  Or a decent person thing, ya know

[OH YEAH THERE'S APPARENTLY A FAMILIAR FACE IN THIS!  @witchy-writer-lady told me abt it]

The circles that have been talked in this scene  [Ma'am calling him out on circular sentences like she doesn't do that constantly]

There is plenty more romantic.  Weddings are so overrated and expensive ☠️☠️🤣

“Why not?”  OC!

🤣🤣🤣 This woman deserves to have her dress stolen if she didn’t notice it gone from two feet away [asdfkjalfdkj you're not wrong]  She’s blind as hell with both eyes intact ☠️☠️☠️

Oh Sketch noooooo

Get ‘em OC  [No "Get 'em Normal"?]  HES SO MEANNNN ☠️☠️☠️☠️  [You do realize NoBody there does Any work right alkdsjf]  That’s true 🤣🤣  [Not even Alec, love him as I do alskdfj]  Oooooof  [He legit just sits there chatting with Normal about boxing the whole time.  Or delivering single packages]

Oh! Hello Logan!

NORMAL 🤣🤣🤣

His little “hm she’s aight” look

[This was me earlier today!!!  I understand his aversion to public speaking  aslkdfj]  ☠️☠️☠️ Moood

Oh Buddy

[His look at her alskdfj]  Their little exchange was cute tho  ['sigh' This is true]

Poor Normal  [I knowwww!  Will the hostage situations never stop?]  Right?!?

[An actual coherent monologue alkdsjfa]

Loooool I thought the brother was Palmer (Ducky’s Assistant you haven’t met yet)  [idk for sure but that's not the pertinent one… Watch for Daphne]

Poor Max done got put in her feelings

Le gasp  [Oh, last name drop!  I forgot Max's last name was on screen.  I don't think Alec's is]

Ooop! We get more jam pony

He said ten bucks  [tbf, they are in an economic depression]  True 🤣🤣

[Normal be lying abt the bip-bip-bip-ing]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Poor buddy can’t have a good family!  Oooof

Was that SPN Mary?  [Yup!]  Le gasp

Oooooof jealousy

[That was a painfully fake smile, Max]

[Also this be the plot to your Nomral fic.  But more guns.  And less love life.  And Normal's in a leather jacket and not a bathrobe]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Oh boy: Logan done put his foot in his mouth

[I'm cringing in preparation for this ep btw.  Heads-up]  Oh noooo

– – –

Jezebel: Midpoint!

Wench: Bravo!  Ma'am remembered better than I… do go on!

Jezebel: Ok so first off it’s a Jam Pony ep which has proven to be some of my favorites!  And I swear I love a “I don’t like this person but I don’t hate this person so I’ll help” storyline

Wench: Poor Normal alskdjf

Jezebel: Yusss.  Alsoooo POOOR LOGANNNNNN!  BUT MAX TAKING UP FOR HIM WAS ADORABLE, IM SORRYYYY!!  But then here comes Mary-

Wench: Daphne

Jezebel: I know 🤣

Wench: Hmph

Jezebel: -and just threw a wrench right in it

Wench: And finally the jump I paused it on  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  In that dress… Just…. Wot ☠️🤣🤣☠️☠️

Wench: Apparently we have lots of photos to give y’all this time alskdfj On we go!

– – –

I swear ☠️ The dress makes the jumps look so bad ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Oooof

Mood max

[Okay but he lost his job because of the messenger service so-]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Buddy she’s no angel

Bruh CAN NO ONE KEEP UP WITH SHIT  [I mean.  Technically she just.  Decided to leave with it]  FAIR

[Remember when I said I was.  preemptively cringing.]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️oh shit the second hand embarrassment

[Poor Normal expecting to get killed tho]  Ooop Normal reality check on being a good person lol  [Let it be known, btw, that Normal in s2 has very good moments and very BAD moments.  I recognize this.  But for now I'm enjoying his minorly-asshole-ish-but-no-worse bits.]

This man and his bitch slaps

I love "defenstration"... it's one of my favorite words

Poooor Normal

[Have fun.  I'm.  Not watching btw.  Tell me when the speech is over plz.  I'm.  I have it muted.]  I have it turned down☠️  I’m still cringing at the faces

This.  Is Tony coming out of Logan

Max coming through again  [Okay, now you're uber-whacked; technically she only came through because she caused the problem in the first place by not handing the paper back]  Fair  [This is the one non-anti-Max comment you've made that I don't agree with]  🤣🤣🤣

[This.  Is an NCIS episode.]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  ["I've got a military vessel heading out to-"]

A ghostttt  [Max disappearing: Cas-coded]

Oooooop-  [Plz let DaphMary be a lesbian]  SBC… If not OC GON make her one

[This whole dress thing is so ridiculously unrealistic.  It's pulling me out of the story.  She definitely smells like trash and yet no one seems to notice; she's bound to have it all dirty, stained, and ripped, and yet she's acting like she's gonna return it... just wot]

OOOOF  THAT WOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TODAY

[Showing off her powers again 'sigh']

☠️☠️☠️☠️  [She (Max) annoys me]  Fair

Oh boy

OC 🤣🤣  [Um.  DaphMary looking like she was heading over to OC as soon as she caught the bouquet.]  RIGHT

[Um.  UM.  THEY ACTUALLY DID THAT!!!  DAPHMARY I FREAKING LOVE YOU]  Oooooop!  Dean’s getting a new momma.  [Well, he always seems to lose one, so he needs two]  Oooof  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Ooop-  Somethings missing on miss presses neck 🙂

“You first”  Heart eyes

[I.  I think we found out why she dumped him… Lickity-chicks]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️  Logan’s not clueless I love it  [This is true!]

Dawwwww!  Genuine smile!  [I will give you that Max/Logan are good in this scene]  

Another dawwwww

Le gasp

Buddy HOW BOUT YOU NOT  [HE WAS TESTING IT]  “My feet work again… Lemme break em”

– – –

Jezebel: Ok! End point! 🙃 Jam pony still are my all time favorites! Like you said it’s the Normal fic but make the girl a painting ☠️☠️ and the depression is his, you know, will to live.

Wench: lkjlkj;lkj oof

Jezebel: Also Logan was adorable in this one.  Very Tony-esque.  And his family sucks.

Wench: All true

Jezebel: But DAPHNE(MARY) 😮‍💨💕 love herrrr!

Wench: I KNOW!  I FORGOT THEY DID THAT AND JUST.  GOLD

Jezebel: OC really just be coming in and swooping up all the ladies.  Also, Max was annoying but her taking the necklace made me happy. So *sigh* 😤  I’m conflicted

Wench: This is fair!  To be honest, she’s not as bad in s1 as she is in s2.  It’s her dynamic there that causes the issue.

Jezebel: Ending note. Catlike jumping in leather = meh, goofy but believable / catlike jumping in fancy schmancy dress = the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen

[nayatarot777]

this is a highly good point. damn near everyone and their mother is apparently tired of the over-saturation of love readings (since that is what mainly takes up the tags), but yet when it’s time for those same people to suggest something - y’all are nowhere to be found? apparently those people feel like we should all be focusing on self development more than love (fair enough), but a lot of us readers who do self development readings don’t see those of you who claim that actually show up for them. so…what is this? hating on love readings just because it’s a trend now to say “fuck love”?

love readings have their place, but considering how much baggage a lot of us are carrying out, self development readings seem like they would be a bigger priority for those of us who are apparently ready to work through issues. but it sounds like a lot of y’all just talk to talk. i appreciate those of you who give me feedback about my shadow work readings and stuff, to let me know that they’re helpful 🫶🏾 i’ll never stop doing them. but i thought that a much larger group of people here were apparently focused on bettering themselves to the point where they’re supposedly tired of love readings? clearly shit ain’t adding up when you look at what’s appreciated or ignored though?

if that’s how it’s gonna be, i will just say ‘fuck it’ and cater to the small group of people who actually practice what they preach while also prioritising the people who are prioritising love in their lives. at least with those who do prioritise love, they create an active community of people who connect with each other, connect with the readers who share their energy, and they show a lot more gratitude and support. i don’t have the energy to put into readings that are supposedly “rare but much more needed” for the sake of people who just want to look a certain type of way on the internet (the types who want to appear to be strong and independent on the basis of not wanting love when they actually are more interested in their love life like most other people on here - which i feel is the reason behind this contradiction lmao. it’s giving bitter and jaded 👀), just to have my efforts disregarded because a lot of y’all actually ain’t about that self-focused, self-development life like you claim when shaming love readings. what type of community can i form with people like that? 💀

with that being said: prepare yourself for love readings from me. but not without some much needed shadow checks based on what i’ve seen from the few that i’ve done already 👀. my guides don’t spare me when talking to me about my love life so i doubt that they’re going to spare my collective either. feelings might be triggered, but i’m never going to be one of those readers who give you a fairytale version of your love connections and situations. i’m excited to open up to a new collective of people on here though :)

Soooooooooooooooooo

There’s been a lot of fuccin talk on here with some mfcs having a problem with readers doing FS pac okay cool, wtf kinda readings do you want? NO FS READINGS!

*To the ones that do want the FS readings, I always hear you guys and no you’re not being ignored and the FS readings will continue eventually

*I’m over this fuccin lame ass pattern of the bitching and complaining but yet in comments I’m seeing write about my FS! SPEAK OUT IF YOU WANT READERS TO DO OTHER READINGS! I see them always say to give suggestions! THE FUCCIN REST IS UP TO YOU!

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: New Hire [3]

previous chapter

Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Summary: After escaping your demanding, violent father, you get your first job nannying for Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Manipulation, Obsessive behavior, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Dubcon, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: 👀 i know we’ve all been kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop with Ari and Kitten, so here we go! i’m working two jobs now, so i don’t have a lot of spare time left over to write—as a result, i kind of went waaaaaaay overboard with this chapter. i split it into two, just for ease of reading, so i really hope y’all enjoy! floral divider by @firefly-graphics​

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

“I’m not leaving till I see my daughter!” You can hear your father’s raised voice clearly, like he’s yelling at you from inside the car rather than the driveway. Ari’s stern hand on his shoulder seems to make him even angrier. 

“So what, you got her locked up here like your own little toy, and what? No fuckin’ ring on her finger, I’ll bet,” he sneers, and it’s like you’re seventeen again. Seventeen again and listening to him tell you you’re used and ruined because you’d let the Baker boy come sniffing after you— 

“Liam we’re going to go inside.” You hate the way your voice shakes, the way your stomach clenches with old fear. As you turn around, you try to swallow down the panic so that Liam doesn’t see it on your face. “And we’re not going to look at, or talk to the man outside, okay?” You repeat it like you heard it from your therapist when you’d first left your father. Don’t engage. You don’t owe him anything. You are your own person.

 You are free.

 “I don’t like that man.” Liam says quietly from the back seat as you unbuckle him. “He’s scary.” 

 “Yes,” you agree, glancing at the man in question over your shoulder. “He is.” Liam clamors over the middle console and into your arms. You don’t want to stay in the car, listening to him shout. You take a deep breath, gathering what little courage you feel, and pull on the door handle. Immediately, his cursing fills your ears while you cover Liam’s with your hands, steering him quickly towards the stairs. 

 “Oh, there she is,” he snarls. “I taught you better than that, you little bitch! Abandoning your responsibilities to this family, all so you can sit on some Alpha’s fucking knot—”

 “Enough!” Ari’s voice is like a clap of thunder. His huge hands are knotted threateningly in your father’s shirt. “You come here like this, you fucking threaten my mate—” He bares his teeth angrily. “How’d you even fucking get in here, you slimy piece of shit?”

 “I’m here because Peter-fucking-Quill sent me,” he spits, and your chest goes even tighter at the name. “On account of you fucking his mate.” 

 “What?” It’s your voice that acts as a knife through the tension, and both men turn to you. You know Peter Quill—or, well, you knew him. Before things had gone bad at home, turned sour like milk left out to spoil, and you’d had to switch schools—because your fancy Catholic school was too much money—you’d played with Quill. He was only a year or two older than you, but he was always… kind, for lack of a better word. 

 You never thought you’d hear that name again. 

 “Then he needs to come himself.” Ari’s voice is low, barely above a growl. His shoulders are stiff and squared, his knees slightly bent like he’s ready to soak a blow. “Because as far as I’m concerned, it’s my mark on her neck.” Ari shoves your father, and he stumbles back a few steps. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot messengers. But it is fucking tempting.” Trembling, you begin to lead Liam up the stairs. 

“You tell Quill he’d better send someone more fucking qualified next time.” You hurry inside, one of Ari’s men holding the door open for you as they usher you inside. Faintly, you can hear Ari, his orders mixed in with frustrated swears. 

 “King, you mind telling me what the fuck you were thinking, letting him get past the goddamn gate?”

 You’ve never seen this many people in the house before, men in black, guns bulging under their clothing. The man Ari called King’s gaze flicks around nervously before settling on you. Ari sees it too, and almost immediately, his hostile posture softens. 

 “Kitten, why don’t you take Liam upstairs?” He turns to you with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be up in a little bit, I know that was… scary.” 

 “I…” You have questions—so many questions. “But Ari, he—”

 “Upstairs, Kitten. Now.” His voice brokers no room for argument, bordering on an Alpha command that your body jumps to follow. You spare one last look for the strangely crowded kitchen, and then take Liam’s hand and lead him up the staircase to the second floor. You put out a few of his favorite coloring books and games to distract him while you go change your clothes. 

 Your feet begin marching in the direction of your old room, and it’s only when your hand rests on the brassy doorknob that you remember it isn’t your room anymore. You stand there in front of the door, your hand hovering over the knob. So much has changed in the past three months, and you wonder if they’ll ever stop changing. It’s like you’re at the center of a whirlwind, and each time you get your bearings, you’re whipped about by the storm until you’re just as lost and confused as ever. 

 Three months ago, leaving your father’s house had been the hardest, most confusing thing you’d ever had to do, but you had done it, and you had done it by yourself. You’d navigated the help wanted sections of every newspaper, typed out your resumé on the ancient library computers, all for your father to find you again. 

 It’s okay to start over, that’s what Dr. Nicholson says. It’s okay to do things over until you get them right. You wonder what she’ll think of these new developments as you force yourself to turn around and head down to the other end of the hallway, towards Ari’s room—your room. You’d missed last week’s therapy session—it isn’t like you could show up with Ari still knotted inside you. The thought makes your face heat hotter than a stove-top, and you bite your lip against the embarrassment. 

 You’re due for another session in a few days, and you’re actually looking forward to it, to being able to decompress and just talk without fear of reprisal. As you shrug out of the sundress, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Though you try not to, it’s impossible not to see the neat ring of teeth marks sunk permanently into your flesh. 

 Ari is proud of how clean his bite is, you know it—you can feel it through the bond when his teeth slide home like keys into a well fitting lock. You remember running your fingers over your mother’s own mating mark as a child, the flesh knotted and bumpy to the touch, like your father had torn into her like an animal. A shiver runs down your spine as you recall his words—

 Peter-fucking-Quill sent me. On account of you fucking his mate.

 You weren’t mated before Ari—the smooth, unbroken skin above your mating gland had told that truth far better than your mouth ever could. So what had he meant by that? How could you be Peter’s if you were already Ari’s? 

 Your body is still singing with tension and unresolved anxiety, winding you tight like a spring as you search through Ari’s cavernous closet for something to wear. The possessions you do have feel meagre in comparison, like you’re a pauper dressing up as a prince. You emerge from the closet wearing shorts and a button up shirt—one of Ari’s—tucked into the waistband. 

 When you poke your head into his room, you’re pleased to find that Liam has only made a moderate mess, having somehow managed to get into the finger paints that you keep having to hide in increasingly difficult to reach locations. He looks up at you with a wide, gap toothed grin, and holds his masterpiece up for you to see. His little hands are stained green, and you expect they probably will be for the next four to six business days, but your heart still melts as he brandishes his paper proudly. 

 “Look, I painted everybody,” he replies, bouncing excitedly on his toes. He peeks over the top of the paper, and then back up at you. “This is daddy—he’s going to work, that’s why he has his suit on. And then, then there’s me, and right here is you!” He taps the paper again, for emphasis. You giggle, taking the paper gingerly. 

 “Wow, Li, this is amazing! Is that my dress?” You ask, looking down at him as he puffs his chest out with pride. “This is so good! You know, I bet dad is going to want to hang this up somewhere,” you say conspiratorially, and he laughs, before his face falls a little. 

 “What if he doesn’t see it?” He kicks at the rug. “Dad’s always working.” You can almost hear the sound of your heart cracking open at Liam’s innocent admission.

  “You know what, let’s go put this on the big mirror in the bedroom. That way he’ll be sure to see it, okay?” You hold Liam’s hand as he leads you down the hallway, and the two of you hunt for scotch tape to hang his painting as you strain to hear what’s going on downstairs. It’s useless, the walls are too thick and well soundproofed for anything but the barest murmur of conversation to make it through. 

 As you’re finishing up taping Liam’s drawing, a shudder runs through you, your hairs standing on end. Alpha is looking for me. You don’t know how you know it, but you do, like feeling eyes on your turned back. 

 “Dad!” Liam’s exclamation has you turning to face the large figure in the doorway. Ari doesn’t stop him as Liam goes crashing into his legs, and he scoops up his giggling son, ruffling his hair. “I drawed something for you.” You move out of the way, stepping aside as Ari sizes up Liam’s masterpiece.

  “Li, you know we’ve got to frame this, right? You’re just a regular Picasso.” It’s like you’re watching Liam’s confidence grow in real time, a pleased expression gracing his little features, though you doubt he actually knows who Picasso is. “Is this what you guys were doing while I was working?” 

 Working. You still don’t really know what Ari even does, though you don’t doubt that he’s important. All the men downstairs, Ari’s fierce demeanor… the answer plays at the edge of your consciousness, but you don’t grasp for it, too afraid that you might be right. As Ari chats with Liam, you excuse yourself, wandering down to the kitchen to get some water. It’s like no one was ever there, and if you hadn’t had to drag Liam through a veritable sea of men in tac gear, you might have thought you’d imagined it. 

 You can’t help but peek out of the front door, just to make sure your father is really gone, that he isn’t just lying in wait outside to ambush you again. 

 “Thought I would see what was taking so long, Kitten. You know Liam won’t start the movie without you,” Ari rumbles, his breath ghosting across the shell of your ear. You whirl around, almost dropping your glass. 

 “Ari, I… I just wanted to see,” you admit. “If he was gone.”

 Ari’s lip curls, his eyes narrowing. “He’s gone. I made sure of it.” He pulls you against his chest, burying his nose in your curls with a deep sigh. 

 “I’m sorry.” The apology falls timidly from your lips before you can stop it. It’s a force of habit more than anything, the desire to placate before it becomes a problem. “I… I don’t know how he found me, I-I did all of the things Dr. Nicholson told me to, I—” Ari cups your chin. 

 “Shh, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.” His calloused fingers are gentle on your face. “You did the right things. It’s not your fault.” Your fingers tangle in his shirt as Ari rubs soothing circles on your back. “He found you because he went to Quill, baby.” 

 “Quill?” You dredge up the image of him young and roundfaced from your memory. It’s easy to tell Ari is… reluctant to continue this line of conversation. You can feel his discomfort prickling in the back of your skull through the bond, but more than that you can see it written plainly on his face. 

 “I’m not sure how you know him,” Ari says lowly, “but Peter is a… business associate of mine. Was.” He runs a hand through his hair. “How do you think your father got that nice new house on the good part of the island? How he got those debtors to stop calling? He went to Peter, Kitten. And he made a deal.” 

 Your head is spinning. The answer is right there, but for some reason, you refuse it. 

 “A deal?” You repeat the words dumbly.

 “For you, Kitten. He promised Quill you.”

 —

 You’re restless that night, tossing and turning until Ari pins you underneath him with a stern, sleepy grunt. He can’t stop your mind from spinning though, and you don’t sleep until the sky outside begins to turn pink. 

 Your father had sold you—like cattle. Traded you when you’d become useless to him. 

 What kind of parent does that? 

 Your dreams offer no answers, only more questions. When had he offered you up like cattle? And what kind of man accepted a person as fair trade? You know your father has never been good with money—even before your mother died. Your chest goes painfully tight at the thought of her. You wish your mother was here, now more than ever. You can’t help but wonder what she would make of all of this, if she would approve. 

 In the morning when Liam wakes the two of you up with far too much pep, you’ve only managed to struggle through a few hours of sleep. He chatters excitedly about his dreams and you do your best to listen, nodding eagerly as he describes the superpowers he’d used to save the universe. Ari rolls over onto his side, and you don’t miss the way his eyes rest heavily on you, his full lips pulled into an easy, satisfied smile. 

 He scampers off to pack his backpack for the day—one of his favorite activities, even over summer break. Ari’s hand settles on your thigh, warm through the thin sleeping shorts you wore to bed. 

 “You didn’t sleep well last night, Kitten.” It’s an observation, a statement of fact. Embarrassed that he remembers your sleepy grumbling, you duck your head, nodding. 

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you awake,” you tuck an errant curl back behind your ear. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about everything.” Your stomach churns again as you recall your father shouting at you from the steps outside, his eyes bright and frantic. I hate him.

 You hadn’t ever actually thought it consciously before, how much you despise the alcohol soaked man who’d showed up to shame you only yesterday. I hate him.

 It feels like his arrival has started something, put things in to motion that you can’t see, things you don’t understand. But Ari does. You can practically feel him gearing up for something, something big—readying himself. Ari’s beard rasps against your cheek as he leans in to kiss your temple. 

 “He won’t be back.” He says it with such conviction it’s hard for you not to consider it an absolute truth. There’s an unspoken threat that sends a shiver down your spine, one that speaks to the roughness that lurks just underneath the placid, casual mask that Ari wears all the time. You’ve already seen it slip a few times—at the amusement park, with your father. It makes you wonder what he’s really capable of.

 You can tell he wants to say more, that the conversation isn’t quite done yet, but the shrill ringing of Ari’s phone cuts through the moment like a sharp knife.  He reaches for it, irritation written in the downturned corners of his mouth and narrowed eyes. He gives you one last, distracted kiss before sitting up, the sheets pooling at his waist. 

 “Yes?” You can’t hear the person on the other end of the line, not clearly, but you can tell they sound upset—frantic, almost. “Slow down, Drysdale. I said slow the fuck down,” Ari growls into the receiver, dragging a hand down his face. “Quill sent what to Fowler?” You still at the mention of Peter, but Ari taps your ass sharply with the palm of his hand, and you squeak. 

 “Business,” he mouths at you. “I’ll find you when I’m done.”

 Though you aren’t pleased about being effectively dismissed, you scoot off of the edge of the massive bed and pad towards the shower. Liam is downstairs, and you walk into the living room just as his improvised karate routine is finishing up. 

 “Look how high I can kick!” He says loudly, lifting his leg up the way you know they’d taught him in his karate class. 

 “Liam no!” You’re too late, his little foot intersecting with one of the framed photos on the coffee table. You wince at the sound of breaking glass before rushing over and sweeping the errant six year old off of his feet to check for cuts. Sheepishly, Liam clings to you, embarrassed tears leaking down his little cheeks. 

 “No cuts, right bud?” You ask as you turn his hands and feet back and forth, squinting as you look for shards of glass. “Nothing hurts?”

 “N-no, but…” he trails off, pointing at the shattered frame. It’s a nice picture, Liam up on Ari’s broad shoulders as the two of them grin widely at the camera. You’d taken that picture—at Liam’s birthday, just a few months before. “I broke it.”

 “Yes, you did, but what’s more important is that you’re okay,” you say, wiping the errant tears from his chubby cheeks with your thumbs. “Dad can always get a new picture frame.” Your humor doesn’t deter him, however, and Liam looks at the stairs nervously. You place Liam carefully on the couch as you sprint into the kitchen to grab the broom and dustpan. 

 “He’s gonna be mad at me,” Liam sniffles, rubbing at his red rimmed eyes as you clean up the mess. 

 “That’s not true, pal. Dad’s not going to be mad—”

 “He is!” Liam insists. “That’s his most favoritest picture in the house, he said so!” He’s getting worked up now, his cheeks splotchy and red as he becomes more and more upset. Frustrated tears begin leaking from his eyes again, and you feel your chest go tight. 

 “Liam, I promise dad isn’t going to be mad,” you say placatingly, setting down the broom to rub his back as he sniffles. “Would it make you feel better if we got another one?” The mall isn’t far away, certainly close enough for the two of you to pop over and be back before Ari even notices you’re gone. “We can go get him a new one so he won’t feel sad, okay?” 

 This seems to be an acceptable compromise to Liam, who nods tearfully. “Okay.”

 Of the several cars sitting in the garage below the house, you select an unassuming black Wrangler, making sure to buckle Liam into his seat before climbing into yours. It starts up easily, and you shoot a quick text to Ari—one you’re sure he won’t even see before you’re back—before taking off. Liam is singing some kind of made up song to himself as you pull out into the wealthy suburb that Liam and Ari—and now you—call home. 

 The mall parking lot is as crowded as it usually is, and you hold Liam’s hand tightly as you navigate between the cars. Still, he tugs on your hand impatiently, eager to get inside. He hasn’t been on a real outing since the amusement park—your face burns hot at the memory—and it shows, with Liam bouncing excitedly on his toes as he drags you into the mall. You make him wait as you squint at the map, looking for the bright red You are here!, labeled at the bottom entrance. 

 “It looks like there’s a nice frame shop this way, Li. We can go pick out something cool for dad.” 

 “Okay!” 

 Though the frame shop is distinctly not an environment for six-year-olds, Liam handles it like a champ, using his “inside” voice the way you’d taught him, and handling the delicate glass with care when he dares to pick something up. Like his father, he seems to be rather choosy, squinting at several picture frames before dismissing them. 

 “What about this one? This one’s cool.” 

 “That’s not cool,” Liam says decisively, turning his nose up at the one you hold in your hands. You stifle your own laughter as you imagine what Liam thinks cool is. I don’t think they have any frames with Spider-Man on them. “This one, this one!” He holds up the gilded gold frame excitedly, standing on his tippy-toes to show it to you. “I like this one.” 

 “I like this one too, Li,” you take it from him gingerly, holding it up to the light. It really is pretty, something you could see sitting in the spot the other picture had occupied. “Lets take it up to the register.” As you wait in line, Liam begins shuffling his feet, darting out to grab things from baskets near the register before putting them back. You’re honestly amazed Liam’s attention span has lasted this long, and you don’t fault him for his boredom. So when he pulls on your arm and points to the ice-cream booth just outside the store, you nod. 

 He’s just right there. I can see him.

 You turn back to the line, playing anxiously with the heavy black card Ari had given you the day before. You haven’t used it yet, but then again, you haven’t needed to. You glance over your shoulder as the person in front of you finishes up. You can see Liam’s little blond head as he bounces excitedly, waiting his turn in line. 

 “Is this all today?” 

 “Y-yes, that’s it, thanks.” You turn back around embarrassedly, placing the card on the counter with a sharp click. The older woman behind the register runs it before handing it back, and you watch her begin to wrap the frame in newspaper. 

 “Your son is adorable, you know, so cute,” she says, and your cheeks warm. You’re not sure how to respond, how to parse out the complex nature of your relationships in a way that is easy to understand—mostly because you don’t understand it yourself. In the span of a week you’ve gone from nanny to step-mother, from employee to mate, and the transition still has you reeling. 

 “Yes, he is.” You manage a weak smile as you turn to scan the crowd for him again, looking for the soft, wavy blond curls that denote his presence by the ice-cream stand.

 But you don’t see him. 

 The panic that seizes you is immediate as you turn fully, eyes wide as you search the crowd again and again—but come up empty. The cashier’s voice is nothing but a dull drone in your ear as you push through the people behind you. 

 “Liam? Liam!” There are people stopping to look now, their attention only adding to your distress. He was right here, I just saw him, he was right here—You feel terrified tears beginning to gather in your eyes as you call for him. “Did you see a little boy? Blond, blue eyes, he’s missing his front tooth?” The man behind the counter looks at you helplessly. 

 “I, I mean I think so, I’m sorry, it’s just so busy—!” You try to calm yourself, wiping at your eyes as you continue looking, your purchase at the frame shop completely and utterly forgotten. It’s only been a few minutes, but it feels like you’ve been looking for hours, wringing your hands as you jog through the mall. 

 Something gold catches your eye, and you turn towards the main doors. There’s a man in black, all black, his clothes bulky and ill fitting—reminiscent of the way Ari’s men had looked yesterday. The outline of the bullet-proof vest under his shirt is clearly visible, as is the large hand wrapped around Liam’s tiny forearm.

 “Liam!” You’re barreling towards him before your body even has a moment to register that you’re moving, and you slam into the man’s back with your shoulder. He lets out a surprised, pained shout as Liam sobs your name. “Let go! Let him fucking go!” You’ve never fought anyone in your life, but you feel grim satisfaction as you rake your nails down the man’s face and smell the coppery tinge of his blood under your fingernails. It’s his surprise that allows you keep hitting him, raining blows down all over his face and chest as he tries to shield himself from you, cursing. 

 “Get off me! Fucking crazy bitch—” He shoves you off with a snarl, and you scramble over to Liam, panting as you put yourself in the way, shielding his smaller body with your own. Adrenaline has you on a tightrope, unable to move or blink as you watch the man get to his feet. The world around you rushes back in to your ringing ears—there’s someone saying to call the police, another group of people attempting to block the exit, to hold the man here—but you can’t process any of that. 

 You turn to Liam tearfully, running your hands through his hair and over his face. He presses into your chest, his little arms going around your shoulders as he sobs uncontrollably, snot and tears running into your hair. 

 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you murmur as you rock him back and forth, your eyes still wide as you stare unseeingly past him. The relief is almost as big as the fear, and with both of them swirling inside of you, it’s impossible to calm down.

 “I-I-It-w-was s-s-so s-s-scary,” Liam’s words are barely discernible through his tears. There are people talking to you—at you, really—but you don’t have the bandwidth to respond, only clutching Liam tighter when anyone approaches, like a feral animal. All you can focus on is Liam, keeping him pressed to your chest as you try to analyze every possible new threat. 

 Keep away, your hindbrain snarls, and you feel your own lip curl to mirror it. Baby’s not safe, not safe! You’re dimly aware of mall security attempting to detain the man who’d grabbed Liam, the sound of sirens—

 “Kitten.” And then there’s Ari, kneeling in front of you as he cups your chin, strokes your hair; checking you over in much the same way you’d done Liam only minutes before. “Kitten can you hear me?” You nod numbly, still holding tight to Liam as Ari tries to pry your fingers loose. “Good, baby. You did so good, protecting our boy.” His hands are gentle as he helps you stand up. You can’t explain the rush of warmth that fills you as you inhale his scent, the deep sense of comfort that washes over you as you begin to process his nearness. 

 Alpha is here. 

 Safe.

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[tounacasserole]

🐟

um👉🏻👈🏻Can you write part 2 for argument with husband?His apologise to you?

APOLOGIZING TO YOU AFTER MAKING YOU CRY [ pt one | two ]

ft. bonten!kakucho hitto, shinichiro sano, & bonten!ran haitani x gn!reader [separate]

warnings: not proofread as per usual, hurt/comfort, finally fluff, it’s not a tounacasserole piece without some cursing, lowercase, a lot of metaphors, a lot of hyphens, you comfort shin more than he does you lmao, kind of ooc

requested by: anon!

word count: 2.6k (yes. i got carried away)

notes: ask and you shall receive dear anon! sorry this took so long i got an angst idea when writing out shin’s part but i’ll spare y’all from that. for now >:) enjoy!

KAKUCHO

—watching the rise and fall of the stars in the endless sky was more boring without company.

—on warmer nights, you and kakucho would hop on over to your balcony to gaze at the sky’s rise and fall; the slow transition, dipping to nightfall and sunrise if he woke you up early enough before you both would get ready for the day.

—his presence was always comforting under the blanket of stars as he had you lean back on him with his arms hugged around you in silence, occasionally whispering sweet nothings in the breeze or leaving kisses on the top of your head.

—you never did it alone. until now, that is. the absence of your spouse’s presence near you, touching you—made it all the more colder when the midnight cold tickles your skin. it’s as if the winds know that today is a bad day.

—with a drawn out sigh, you push back from leaning against the railing, turn on your heel, and walk back into the warmth of the penthouse.

—he hasn't noticed you when you enter the living room silently. you’d giggle at the sight of him swaddled in a blanket like a burrito on the couch but the blue light tinting his sad features licks the urge away like flame on parchment.

—you don't know how it’s possible for him to look even more tired.

—“i thought i’d find you here,” you say quietly as you approach.

—he quickly clicks off his phone at your voice; a subtle statement that he’s listening to whatever you have to say with his undivided attention as he looks up at you.

—you sit down next to him, dipping your weight into the plush cushions in a tense silence unlike the comforting one you're both used to.

—you fiddle with your hands, building up any semblance of courage to say something.

—after a short while, you break the silence.

—“i’m sorry.”

—or rather, the both of you do. you stare at each other; the first time today you’ve both actually peered into the seas of your eyes without shame, without regret, without hostility—but with a childlike glow of puppy love when you said those two words in unison.

—laughter bubbles in your throat and kakucho follows suit, filling the dark room and cutting the tension in half.

—“you’re stressed, love; i should’ve been more considerate,” you reason first, laughter dying down.

—“i know… but that’s no excuse for me to be harsh to you.” he places a tender kiss on your forehead, silently looping an arm around you and pulling you into the blanket with him. it was soft, but not as soft as him as you sink into his blissful, warm touch.

—you missed him. even if it was only for a few hours, you yearned for his touch without him by your side. a fulfilling and now comfortable silence with the occasional passive cycle of breathing the only sound in the room.

—a content sigh leaves your lips as exhaustion makes its way through your body, making your eyelids droop and melt further into the comfort of your husband.

—“i love you, kaku. you know that, right?” you ask, voice muffled and worn out from the long hours without your other half near you.

—wordlessly, kakucho pulls you closer, enveloping you fully into his arms and yours wrapping around his torso as he pets your hair.

—you rest your chin on his chest and let out a few breaths of laughter at his flustered face, looking everywhere except your eyes in the dim room. leaning up, you gently kiss his scar, tracing the pattern with your thumb and he shivers at the contact. you grin up at him when his teary eyes meet yours, full of adoration.

—“i do,” he whispers. “i love you, too. so much.”

—you are the sun—shining bright like no other in his presence, and he is your moon—the aura of his quiet but loving person entranced with your radiance always making him glow brighter.

—and even if he wasn't by your side in a certain moment, you can always feel him lingering, peeking through the stars to meet you—his own star—and intertwine your fingers together in your galaxy.

—who needs to stargaze when you're both each other's stars already?

SHINICHIRO

—it’s quiet.

—and not the good kind, either.

—usually when you click open the front door after returning from a long day of work, you would have already been greeted with a forehead kiss from your husband who refused to hug you until he took a shower because he smelled like motor oil.

—usually when you walk towards the stairs you’d hear the casual conversations between shin’s two favourite coworkers—draken and seishu—as they close up shop, ready to retire for the day.

—usually, you’d wave and exchange a few words before heading upstairs.

—but the lights are out, there’s no banter, and there's not a wiff of familiar motor oil you’d smell because shinichiro isn't there to kiss you hello.

—instead, it’s more of the overbearing cigarette smell as you approach the hall leading to the ajar back door and your heart clenches.

—shinichiro always smokes more whenever he gets stressed. he’s tried to break that habit when you both married each other, but of course, old habits will always die hard. you’re proud of him for trying, though. you always have been. so to know that he’s resorted to his old habits, to know that you’re the reason he’s gone back…

—before you know it, you make hasty, quiet steps out the back door to bend down and wrap your arms around his figure sitting turned away from you.

—“i’m sorry,” you mumble, barely audible against the familiar scented fabric pressed against your face. the lingering smell of motor oil is still there, too.

—his form ceases trembling.

—“...[name]?”

—your only response is to squeeze him tighter. with that, he bursts into a sob and you feel his shoulders tremble in your grasp.

—“shin? baby, don't cry—”

—“i’m sorry too,” he blubbers as you slink around to sit behind him and hold his face in your hands. he continues to exclaim what you think are slurred-together apologies and professions of love which mixes into incoherent blabbering.

—oh, shin.

—“ifuckedupiknowi'msosorrybabeidon'twantyoutoleaveiloveyousosomuchand—”

—“shinichiro.”

—he chokes on his words and you take this opportunity to grasp his hands in your own.

—“who said i was going to leave?” you ask, rubbing gentle circles on his knuckles.

—shin bites his lip, looking down. “i dunno, i just thought… i’m…”

—you nod, encouraging him to continue when he trails off. he takes in a shaky breath.

—“i’m not the best husband,” he whispers. “so i thought you might be getting tired of me, being with me for so damn long. i can't believe we’ve stayed together for this long and… and married each other.”

—he doesn't meet your eyes still as the crickets continue their rhythmic chirping as you chew on your words to think of what to say.

—“stars dim all the time, but that doesn't make them any less beautiful.” you grin sweetly, squeezing his hands gently. “you’re my star, shinichiro sano. i wouldn't leave you for the world because you’re my universe. we’ll work it out. we always have. wouldn't have made it this far if we didn't.”

—the stars seem to glimmer in his eyes and yours too when he peers up. you both are cheesy, awkward, lovey-dovey messes under starglow, and you wouldn't have it any other way, hand in hand.

—you always looked so pretty under the starlight and fireflies in his eyes, even before he started to court you. you were always like a bright star—a dream in his eyes, and now his dream had come true; with you sitting next to him, sharing a quaint house, sharing two rings, sharing a tight bond that no one could untie. god, he loves you.

—and…

—oh. you’re blushing.

—wait, did he really say all of that out loud? ah. now he’s blushing too.

—it takes him back—both of you awkward, pubescent teenagers giggling and exchanging lovesick glances at each other, neither of you bold enough to make an initiative move.

—if shinichiro from the future had told his past self that he would marry you, he wouldn't have believed himself.

—he can't believe it either, really. even now. it’s been one crazy joyride, and he’s glad to have you by his side to swerve through it, potholes and all.

—a wave of exhaustion sweeps over him—one of many he had experienced throughout the tiring day—but this time it’s mixed with the warmth of your soul that makes him feel comforted and at ease. at home.

—home is a feeling, not just a place.

—shinichiro buries his face in the crook of your neck as you brush your fingers through his scalp, careful not to snag at his tousled and unbrushed hair.

—but home is also a place where you two feel loved in each other’s presence, no matter how ramshackle it is with nails sticking out of the exterior or uneven wall decor.

—the most exhilarating thing about life is the way one can mold it, like sand. no matter how much it crumbles to dust, you can build it back up to make it new, make it better, because life is always a learning experience for everyone.

—no matter how much it can wash away from the tide, reassembling the foundation is only a matter of pulling your weight into snapping the scattered pieces back together.

RAN

—you don't know where you’re running to, but you know your legs can't endure much more in your fleet. they burn with the feeling that only comes from overuse, along with the stinging tears that threaten to fall once again.

—but you know why you’re running away from the lingering conflict in your head.

—because running away is always the easiest option.

—somehow, subconsciously, your legs have carried you to a familiar sight that makes your heart ache. a stone bridge, hanging over a river that flowed through the city overlooking skylines in the distance. it isn't the most beautiful view, but sometimes the experience is better than the appearance.

—where did it all go wrong?

—ran’s huffing and puffing, legs aching to the point his knees are about to give out at any moment until he spots you. he knows you. he’s spent so much time in his life with you, so only he knows where you’d go after an encounter such as the catastrophic one you both just had.

—the bridge.

—he’d met you there as he was looking on past the moon leaning his elbows against the railing, deep in melancholic thought even when the rain soaked through his suit. he’d met you, who held out an umbrella and expressed concern for him with no ounce of fear, but rather concern. for him. he’d met you, who left your umbrella with him saying that you had a spare in your car telling him, a stranger, to keep it.

—he’d met you on your impromptu first date—same place, different time—all the familiar as he leaned forward on the stone railing while you cautiously took those same small steps as you approached to retrieve your umbrella he insisted on giving back after he (somehow) got ahold of your number.

—he’d met you, after years of dating when he suddenly told you to meet him at “the spot”, he took to calling it; your footsteps turning timid as you walked towards his handsome self who smiled brighter than sunshine when he heard the familiar clack of your shoes on the pavement.

—you, who looked at him dumbfounded when he pulled out the gleaning ring as ran haitani, the love of your life, asked you those four words with that rare and vulnerable lovestruck shyness. you, who realized the one thing ran haitani had always done for you.

—he’s always the one waiting for you.

—but who waits for him? you. you do. caring, patient you. you who stayed up past midnight before promptly passing out on the couch when ran had told you he was going to be out for longer that night. you, who always patched him up any time he had gotten an injury from his line of work with such carefulness. never hostility. you spared not an ounce.

—you, who hasn't left his side once despite him being a despicable man.

—and this time, it’s you who hears the hasty footsteps approaching.

—“[name].”

—you finally look him dead in the eyes which halt him in place, barely a metre away from where you stand.

—“do you love me, ran haitani?” you question immediately, adding more edge to your voice than you would have liked.

—you can hear him hesitate, digesting every thought and hearing the gears crank in his mind to conjure up a sincere passage to say to you. your hands grip tighter on the railings, growing impatient as the only sound you’re met with is the water flowing through the canal underneath.

—“i do!” he nearly shouts, making you jump a little at his abrupt tone. “i swear, a thousand times i do. a thousand and one and even more. and i can't deny that i… i fucked up. and i hurt you.”

—“yeah. yeah, you did,” you agree meekly.

—“that's one of my promises i made to you, my love: i swore i wouldn't hurt you.” he presses a hand over his heart. “but i want to make it up to you, to see your gorgeous smile i love, to give you the whole world and then some. and i’m… i’m going to do just that. to better myself. to better us.”

—you’re on the brink of crying again, but ran brushes them away as fast as they flow with swift sweeps of his thumb, hands caressing your face.

—you lean into him, face buried in his chest as he loops his arms around you. your voice is muffled by the familiar fabric of his shirt, but ran knows exactly what you're mumbling.

—“...promise?”

—he bites on his words for a bit in tense silence and your arms around him squeeze, holding a breath.

—“i can’t promise,” he starts, “but i will make it up to you, ‘n dedicate more of my time to you one way or another.”

—he pulls you away to prop his hands firmly on your shoulders and looks you square in the eye, any glint of lazy humour that could possibly be left over replaced with seriousness.

—“i won't make any promises until you forgive me. because i know they'll be empty until then, ‘n i don't want that. i don't want to hurt you even more than i already have, angel.”

—you sniffle then nod as warmth fills your chest in a newfound comfort at his touching words. “okay. i’ll wait for you, ran haitani.”

—a gentle smile from him molded of pure and utter adoration for you is enough for one to crawl up from the corners of your mouth. he taps your nose affectionately and watches you break into a grin.

—your husband gazes at you lovingly, basking in a serene, orange glow from the sunset dimming into the horizon with a smile that could outshine the fading rays. his heart pounds twice as fast against his ribcage as if it wasn't beating quick enough already accompanied by the fluttering in his stomach. he swears he’s falling in love with you all over again.

—god, he thinks, caressing the apples of your cheeks.

—you really are an angel.

—last part of ran’s dialogue and the promise stuff was inspired by @/fuyussi’s wakasa new years post :D

—i tried so fucking hard not to turn any of these angsty at the endings please be proud

—also should i make a taglist? would anyone be interested :o

© tounacasserole on tumblr. all rights reserved. you may not, under any circumstances, translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my work.

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 10

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam helps you out in planning for the launch while Bucky is away.

Word Count: 4.2k (woopsies)

Warnings: SMUT is back, angry unprotected sex, spitting, a tiny hint at scratching and choking, some hurtful words thrown in yada yada yada, kinda intense asjkcackansk

A/N: STRAP THE FUCK IN BECAUSE WE BOUTTA RIDE A DAMN ROLLERCOASTER OMG I’m nervous for this because I found this part very intense while writing it. And I hope it comes across as that to y’all as well because my fingers ached from how hard I was typing this part lmfao. Team Bucky vs Team Reader/Team Sam here we goooo sksksk enjoy

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

You didn't accept Sam's invitation to connect in LinkedIn. Not yet. But it did give you several ideas, like maybe submitting a resignation letter? Get away from Bucky and his toxic ass? He has Mackenzie now, he can easily have her take over your position anyway.

However, you were also torn because you loved your job at Bucky's company. It paved way for you to improve your skills and you experienced a lot of growth too. And well, Bucky's there too but god, you hated him right now. As much as you wanted to wave the white flag, you didn't feel like it was the right thing to do.

You wanted Bucky to learn that not everything he wants, he can easily get. And Mark was right, that you weren't just a trophy employee or whatever. You were so much more than what Bucky probably thinks of you.

And you were going to prove him that.

-

"Hey, Bev. Can you ring up your boss for me? Tell him I want to go over some of the plans I made for the launch before I discuss it with Mackenzie tomorrow." you asked.

Beverly was about to lift the phone up when an unexpected visitor arrived. None other than Sam Wilson himself.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop but did I hear you correctly? You've already made some plans for the launch?" he asked with interest.

You chuckled, "Sort of. Well, it's a rough draft of my ideas. I just thought it would be nice to get a headstart." you admitted.

Sam nodded and was about to say something when Bucky stepped out of his office, his brows furrowing upon seeing you and Sam conversing. Bucky eyed you before glancing over at Sam, patting his shoulder gently as a greeting.

"You checking up on us or what?" Bucky teased with a chuckle.

Sam shook his head, "Not really. Well, kinda. I figured that another presentation would be unnecessary, I mean. I'd love to work on the launch with your team instead of being on the sidelines for approvals." he admitted.

You shrugged, "I think that's a great idea too. Less time to waste, less back and forth." you pitched in.

Bucky frowned a bit, his jaw clenching at how you backed up Sam immediately. "That's fine, but I have a meeting in a few. Might last the entire day. Mackenzie won't be here until tomorrow too." he said.

"She and I can discuss her plans today and maybe I can pitch in some of my ideas too. She can present them tomorrow to you and Kenzie." Sam suggested, gesturing over to you.

Bucky stared at you and Sam alternately, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You could see his internal struggle about leaving you and Sam to discuss about the launch, without his presence.

You lifted up the folder in your hand, "I wanted to go over these plans with you but I didn't know you have a meeting. Sam and I can just refine these today, would save us a lot of time. We don't want to be rushing anything for this project at the last minute." you told him.

Bucky swallowed but nodded anyway, albeit with hesitation, "Yeah. Of course. I'll just catch up on the both of you later."

And with that, Bucky walked away but not without sparing you and Sam one final glance. His eyes met yours for a brief moment and you weren't sure, but you saw a flash of worry in his eyes before it was immediately replaced by his usual stern, ice-cold gaze.

You turned to Sam with a smile, "We can discuss in the conference room." you said and led the way.

-

The planning was seamless and you were surprised that you had so much fun exchanging ideas with Sam, to the point of almost forgetting about lunch break. It was quarter past noon when the both of you realized that it was way past lunch time.

"Do you want to grab lunch or order something instead? I honestly hate working lunch, just so you know." Sam said with a laugh.

You groaned, "I hate that too, honestly." you admitted with a chuckle.

Sam nodded, "Great, we can head out for a quick lunch?" he asked.

It didn't even cross your mind to hesitate, so you immediately agreed and even asked if you can take Beverly with you. You'd grown somewhat attached to her in the short time you've known her. Poor kid was being treated like an outcast by the other office girls. She always waited for you to have your lunch break too, especially that Mark has been pretty busy lately.

Sam was kind enough to agree about including Beverly for lunch. The two of you were about to head out of the conference room when Beverly peeked in, worry etched all over her face.

"I need your help." she whined, "I think I messed up Sir James' schedule. Mister Nakajima is on the phone and said that he's going to be an hour late for a meeting today. I forgot about Sir James’ meeting with another company today!" she explained, almost close to tears.

You rushed over to her and held her shoulders, "Hey, calm down. Did you tell Mister Nakajima?" you asked.

"I did and he got mad at me! Today is his only free day and he said that if he doesn't meet up with Sir James, the deal is off." Beverly said, stomping her foot on the ground.

You heaved out a sigh, knowing that the deal was very important. Mister Nakajima owned an auto manufacturing company which produces world-class materials for cars. Bucky had been working on convincing Mister Nakajima to be his permanent supplier for quite a while now. Big fucking deal.

You looked back at Sam, "Hey, I'm sorry. Can you give me a couple of minutes?" you asked with an apologetic expression.

"Take your time." Sam nodded with a smile.

You went over to Beverly's desk and took over the phone call, without knowing that Sam trailed behind you. He watched you carefully as you talked to Mister Nakajima, your demeanor calm yet confident.

"Hi, Mister Nakajima. I'm the company's Marketing Head and I would like to apologize for the mix up. Bucky has been working really hard on improving the quality of our products, he's been in meetings in and out. That being said, would it be alright if I take over this afternoon's meeting instead? Bucky worked on an amazing presentation and I honestly would love to go over it with you and just show you how this partnership would be beneficial for both our companies." you asked.

Fortunately, you were able to appease Mister Nakajima while also saving Beverly's ass for her honest mistake. As soon as the call was done, you reassured Beverly that everything was fine now and that you'll take care of Bucky. By the time you looked back at Sam, he was merely smiling at you.

"You're really good with people."

-

Lunch break passed by quickly, with you, Sam and Beverly engaging in all sorts of conversations. Even Beverly felt comfortable being around his presence. He mainly talked about his experiences at his first job, giving Beverly a couple of tips on how to navigate through the corporate world.

Sam was very kind.

The planning resumed after lunch and by the time Mister Nakajima and his associates arrived, the launch plan was pretty much refined with a lot of details. Sam excused himself to give you time to meet with Mister Nakajima, however, he said he'll be staying until Bucky comes back.

Presenting to Mister Nakajima made you nervous as fuck, especially that he didn't really work closely with you which might affect his decision. Luckily though, you knew Bucky's presentation like the back of your hand due to the fact that he had gone over it with you for a couple of times back when the two of you were still, well, fucking around.

Ah, the good old days.

The meeting with Mister Nakajima went perfectly well because as soon as you were done with the presentation, the old man simply asked for the contract to seal the deal. Although it wasn't you who actually worked on the deck, you had a sense of fulfillment. You were proud of yourself and you couldn't wait to dangle it right in front of Bucky's face.

"Thank you so much, Mister Nakajima. We are excited for this partnership." you said happily as you led him and his associates out of the conference room, just as when Bucky arrived.

He looked confused when Mister Nakajima greeted him happily, shaking his hand and telling him how good his presentation was. Bucky looked over at you, as if asking what the hell was going on. You merely shrugged and headed back inside the conference with Sam.

Bucky followed shortly and for some reason, he looked agitated. He was about to speak up when Sam beat him to it, giving him a hard pat on the back.

"The launch event is gonna be really good." he said confidently before glancing at you.

"You're lucky to have her, Bucky." he said before bidding goodbye, giving you one last look and a wink as well, something that Bucky immediately noticed.

When Sam left, so did the light atmosphere inside the conference room. Bucky turned to you with a scowl, his footsteps rushed and heavy as he approached you.

"What the hell happened with Mister Nakajima?" he asked gruffly.

You smiled as you handed him an envelope, "The partnership is a go. He signed the contract and his team will be keeping in contact with us and our factory soon." you explained proudly.

Bucky took the envelope from your hand and went through the contract before placing it back on the table. "I thought my meeting with him isn't until Friday."

"Beverly mixed up your schedule and before you even reprimand her, give the girl a break. It's her first job and with the amount of meetings you've been having, mix-ups are inevitable. What matters now is that I took over the presentation and Mister Nakajima signed the contract." you explained with nonchalance.

Bucky shook his head, "The end does not justify the means." he said. "Beverly should have been careful. My schedule is not a joke and if I miss another important meeting, that can fuck up the entire company."

You rolled your eyes, "Calm down, Beverly surely learned from today's mistake. It's done. The deal is on. Everything is peachy. The launch details have been planned out, Sam is happy with it. All I have to do is to secure your and Mackenzie's approval for it and then we can start with the execution. You're welcome." you said all in one breath, handing Bucky a USB containing the details of the launch.

You brushed past Bucky to leave the conference room but you were immediately pulled back with his hand around your arm. He looked down at you with an angry look on his face, almost fuming. You couldn't understand why the fuck he was so aggravated with you today. Sure, he had been testing your patience lately but it was the first time he actually looked like he was going to snap.

Not at the situation, but at you.

"Are you trying to impress Sam? Taking on my responsibilities while he's around?" he asked, eyes narrowing at you.

You scoffed, unable to believe what Bucky was accusing you of. Pulling your arm back, you took a step back and looked at him with disgust. "You're unbelievable, Bucky." you said.

"Had I not stepped in, we would have lost the deal. You promoted me for a reason, and I believe part of it is my leadership skills. And no, I'm not trying to impress Sam. I'm simply doing my fucking job." you hissed and tried to side step Bucky, only for him to block your way.

"Did he offer you a position in his company? What the fuck was the wink all about?" Bucky accused yet again.

"Oh my god, Bucky! You're blowing things out of proportion. He didn't. We talked about the event. That's it." you explained, pinching the bridge of your nose because Bucky was getting on your very last nerve.

Bucky had been fucking with you too much now and you could feel the last bits of your composure slowly slip away with every word that was coming out of his mouth. Coming for your job was one thing, but accusing you of flirting your way to another company? That was a low blow.

"Don't lie to me, I saw the notification on your phone the other day. Seems to me like Tinder matches don't work for you anymore, you moved on to LinkedIn now to find connections instead?" he asked and that particular statement struck a certain nerve.

You let out a bitter scoff, "Do you even hear yourself, Bucky? At least Sam was being professional and didn't use Tinder to hire a fucking consultant to threaten my damn job!" you slipped, unable to hold back.

The look on Bucky's face was a whirlwind of emotions-- shock, wrath, exhaustion-- and you felt like you were supposed to get scared. Gone were the blue orbs that used to make you feel safe, his eyes only held anger in them. And the thing was, your eyes looked the same as you held Bucky's gaze.

You were so fucking tired of everything, of Bucky.

"How did you-- it doesn't matter." Bucky said, shaking his head. "How much did Sam offer you?" he asked.

Your jaw dropped at the implication of Bucky's statement, "You are a fucking asshole, Bucky. Sam didn't offer me a fucking job. You really don't listen, Bucky. You never listen." you huffed out exasperatedly.

"Okay, maybe he hasn't laid down his offer yet. Perhaps, you let him fuck you too?"

Your vision blacked out upon hearing that and by the time you regained your senses, all you could feel was how your palm stung. You had walked up to Bucky and slapped him right across the face, hard enough to make the corner of his bottom lip bleed. Your entire body was trembling from rage as you stood in front of Bucky.

He tilted his head as he wiped the blood off from his lip, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes. And then his hand gripped your neck, tugging you close for a bruising kiss. You grunted against his mouth and pushed him away, slapping him again. Before Bucky could even recover, your fingers wrapped around his tie pulling him down to you for another kiss.

Walls crumbled down, tension was broken and needs were being fulfilled. The rush of emotions blurred the line between fury and lust with the latter obviously winning. All you could think about was the throb that you suddenly felt within your core begging for relief.

Relief that was denied from you for the past few weeks of playing cat and mouse with Bucky.

And with the way Bucky was kissing you, you knew he felt the same. It had been too long and both your minds were too hazy to even care that it was only five in the afternoon and that there were employees working just outside the conference room.

Was the fear of getting caught going to stop you? No, not now. Because you needed release and you were sure as hell going to get it. This wasn't like the other times you and Bucky fucked. You didn't care about Bucky at the moment, how he felt or what was going on in his mind. You just needed to release all your pent up emotions and you were going to use Bucky to get what you need.

Bucky pushed you against the table, your tailbone hitting the edge with such force that made you groan from pain.

"Yeah, why don't you make some noise so everyone can see how fucking needy you are for me?" Bucky growled, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as his other hand bunched your skirt up to your waist.

You let out a chuckle, "I'm not the one going to make noise here." you warned before reaching down to palm his erection.

Bucky hissed and bit his lip hard to prevent himself from eliciting a moan. His jaw ticked as he squeezed your face tighter, forcing you to open your mouth as his eyes scanned your features.

"Watch your fucking mouth, baby. I still own you, you're fucking mine." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes lidded as he looked down at you like a predator.

You kept your mouth closed but as soon as Bucky's fingers found your damp panties, you weren't able to stop your whimper. Bucky took the opportunity and spit in your mouth before crashing his lips against yours in a messy kiss. It was all tongue and spit, the way he kissed you as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear.

He kissed you like he owned you.

"I'm not yours, Bucky." you said as your hands quickly unbuckled his belt, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his hard cock from the confines of his boxers.

The groan that reverberated from Bucky's chest as you stroked him made you smirk. His hand on your face slid down to your neck, holding you tightly as he pushed aside your underwear and then he slid into you with no prior warning. The lack of foreplay made it hurt when he bottomed out, but the pain quickly turned into pleasure when Bucky started moving his hips against yours.

No words were further exchanged from then on. Only soft whimpers and hushed grunts could be heard. However, it was clear that even up until now, there was competition. You didn't want to make noise, didn't want to lose to Bucky. You didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing how fucking good he was making you feel right now, with how each drag of his cock was making your toes curl inside your heels.

Your hands held onto his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the table, the fabric of his suit bunching up against your fingers. Bucky kept his gaze on you and not once did you falter, not even when the tip of his cock hit your cervix, almost punching the air out of your lungs.

Bucky held the back of your thighs and lifted you up, sitting you on the edge of the table and bending forward so he could angle his cock in a way that you would feel it deep within you. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, one of your hands scratching at his jaw as he continued to pound your sopping cunt.

"God, fucking missed this pussy. Can feel you clamping down on my cock, you gonna cum soon?" he asked, pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the wanton moan that Bucky pounded out of you. Not wanting to be the only one to make noise, you clenched around him hard. Bucky let out a growl at how your walls squeezed his cock, his balls tightening as his own orgasm approached.

"Cum for me, Bucky." you whimpered, tipping your head up to lick at Bucky's mouth as your legs tightened around his waist to pull him deeper into you.

Bucky exhaled heavily through his nose, the veins on his neck popping out as he fucked your harder on the table. He kept his hand wrapped around your neck while the other held onto your waist so tight, you could feel his fingers digging deep into your skin. Even with your clothes on, you were sure that you'll be getting bruises from how hard his grip on you was.

"Go on, Bucky. Want your cum inside, want to feel you fill me up again." you moaned against his parted lips, darting your tongue out to taste his mouth.

The needy tone of your voice sent Bucky to the edge first. He uttered a string of curses under his breath as ropes of his cum painted your walls with their warmth with triggered your orgasm. Your body convulsed as waves of pleasure ran through your veins, starting from your fingertips down to your toes. Bucky kissed you and swallowed your moans as his thrusts slowed down.

It took a while for the both of you to recover from the intense fucking. Bucky nuzzled your neck with his nose, his heavy breaths warming up your sweaty skin. There was a short moment of peace that followed, the tension gone and was replaced by a heavy feeling.

You swallowed hard and slowly regained your senses. The release cleared your mind and the memories of the heated exchange from earlier were quick to come back. Bucky's accusations echoed in your ear and they were so clear it almost felt like he was saying them to you again.

Suddenly, you doubted Bucky's intentions when he promoted you. Was he really impressed of your skills at work or was it because you let him fuck you?

"Get off of me." you said, pushing at Bucky's chest until he straightened up.

Ignoring the emptiness you felt when his cock slipped out of you, you hopped down from the table and started fixing yourself. In the many times you had slept with Bucky, it was the first time that you felt disgusted with yourself.

You turned your back to Bucky as you adjusted your underwear, pulling down your skirt and pressing your palms against the fabric to iron out the creases. Your breath was heavy as you processed what had just happened. And just like that, your reserve broke and the strong facade you had built crumbled down into pieces, leaving you vulnerable.

"Hey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Bucky suddenly asked when he heard your sniffing, the darkness in his features gone.

His eyes were back to blue and there was nothing but genuine concern when he saw the tears in your eyes. Bucky tried to approach you but you quickly backed away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself as protection.

"Did you hurt me?" you scoffed. "In more ways than one, Bucky." you quickly added, wiping away your tears hastily with the back of your hand.

You were about to walk out of the conference but decided that it was probably time for you to actually speak up about everything. How you felt for him and how much you hated him for coming at you like that.

"I was going to admit that I like you. I thought about it and figured that I was too proud and a bit selfish for not considering your feelings when I rejected you." you explained.

Bucky blinked in confusion, "What? When?"

You shrugged, "The day you brought in Mackenzie. And I was more hurt than mad that you did that. Because you knew how much this job means to me and you had used it against me. You basically took advantage of my weakness, for what? To get me to cave in? Even when I clearly told you how fucking scared I was of the consequences of whatever kind of relationship we have?" you huffed out.

You didn't allow Bucky to speak, not yet. Not until you were done making him understand why you had been so hell-bent on keeping things professional.

"I wasn't born into a rich family like you, Bucky. I had to work my way up to where I am. Unlike you, I have a family to support and if I lose this job, it's not only me who would suffer. And it won't be easy for me to find another one, not after the reputation I'd have once we get busted." you further explained.

"I told you about it so many times and I wish you listened. Because maybe we could've figured shit out. Or I don't know, maybe the fucking was too good and you only wanted me for that." you shrugged.

Bucky quickly shook his head, "No. God no, you're more than that."

You chuckled again, a fresh wave of tears flooding the corners of your eyes. "It most definitely felt like it when you accused me of fucking Sam."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Let me explain, please? I didn't mean to, I was too--"

"No, Bucky. You didn't listen to me when I told you how I felt about us. Now you're going to know how it feels to not to get what you want." you sternly said before walking over to the door.

You turned back at Bucky and refused to let his expression get to you. He looked devastated, his eyes glassy from the tears he had been holding back, his lips parted as he finally realized what he had done.

"Expect my resignation letter by tomorrow. As soon as we're done with the launch, I'm out."

-

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[tteokdoroki]

countdown | k.bakugou + e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou, eijirou kirishima  x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: college!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: with the new year finally approching, your boyfriends figure out the perfect way to start the countdown.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to twenties ), drinking, mentions of alcohol, poly!kiribaku, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it y’all ), oral sex ( female recieving ), fingering, choking, dumbification, degredation, double penetration, daddy!kink, master!kink, creampie, cumplay. guys it’s a lot idk what to tell you brrrrr. 

♡ author’s note(s):  um this is like 8 days late but happy new years y’all, first fic of 2021 and it is a Wild one !! this kinda goes with along with my christmas deku fic, you don’t have to read it but it gives some context!! thank for all your love and support, stay safe babies <33

♡ masterlist | requests

“don’t look so nervous, shitty girl.”

your gaze flicks up  and to the left of the rim of your tainted red solo cup, a pretty mauve stain coating the outer edge.  you can see bakugou moving in your peripheral vision, slender body resting against the counter in the kitchen you’ve hidden yourself away in— outside a new years party bustles away, so full of life that you’ve struggled to become a part of.  it was supposed to be a small gathering, a few of your boyfriends’ mates were getting together to see off the awful year after finals and tears and mishaps.

you were excited, you’d spent some time with the group before and were stoked to get to know them a bit better— but the idea had quickly been scrapped when kirishima’s roommate turned the tiny event into a full blown goodbye bash. so now your social anxiety was through the roof and you could hardly think about enjoying yourself.

downing the rest of your... well whatever the hell it is...you shift to face the blonde with a slight scowl.  “i’m not nervous, katsuki.” you half growl in an attempt to keep the explosive blonde away, but crimson eyes with mischievously sparkling irises only roll once, your lover can read you like an open book— and for that you hate him... but only just.

“yeah?” katsuki hums, turning to corner you against the worktop. forgoing your empty cup, your free hands instantly settle themselves on your boyfriend’s hips— the material of his black skinny jeans rough against your palms, sneakily to thread fingers through his belt loops to tug him closer and barely feel flustered by the half lidded gaze bakugou gives you. “if you’re not s’nervous, then why the fuck are you hidden away in here?”

it’s your turn to send your eyes rolling, to which katsuki catches and gives you a gentle nip to the cheek. “i’m not hiding either, i came in here to get a drink for kiri— hey! don’t look at me like that.” the rest of your words fall flat in a whine you don’t mean to set free, bakugou grinning like a maniac above you. his eyes sparkle at the hint of your lie as if he can see right through you, which again... you hate. out of the two of your boyfriends; the blonde was able to pick up on your behaviours slightly faster than kirishima— you put it down the quick reflexes and his complex for wanting to be first at everything but that didn’t make him any less annoying.

in response, bakugou bites down a little harder on your fleshy cheek, pulling you closer by the waist so that your legs wrap around him from over the counter. “a drink that kiri already has, baby? stop lyin’, you loser,” he mumbles into your skin, making you huff. “talk to me.”

“fuck you, but fine...” whining again and with a slight buzz of alcohol to your veins you tilt your head before bakugou can affectionately chomp onto your cheek again and attempt to steal a small peck from him. your love only denies you of this pleasure, at least until you tell him the truth. “okay, okay. i’m in here hiding ‘cause there’s too many people and i’m afraid i’ll be too nervous to talk to your friends.”

“‘m feeling burnt out katsu, there’s so many more people here than i expected and i’m worried that your friends might not like me s’much anymore...”

bakugou smirks, running his tongue over the top row of his pearly whites and you cross your arms in defeat.  “you’re so fuckin’ stupid, yn.”

“fuck you! right up your stupid little ass—“

your blonde boyfriend raises a brow which silences you quickly and makes you wriggle in annoyance. “you’re stupid ‘cause our friends aren’t gonna stop liking you for gettin’ shy— there’s a lotta people out there that aren’t exactly kiri or i.” you perk up at the mention of your latter partner which makes katsuki smile and release you. “just relax. they love you, we love you...let’s just say goodbye to this fuckin’ shitty year, okay?”

you nod and watch as the male moves away from you to fix you both another set of drinks while you adjust yourself to go back into the outside world. the kitchen stays quiet compared to the bass blasted music that echoes throughout the dorm halls, giving you time to grasp at feelings of anxiety and attempt to soothe them— you promise yourself to leave all of the negative feelings behind and focus on making happy memories with your friends. bakugou breaks you from your thoughts and hands you another cup filled with a drink you recognise to be your favourite, he doesn’t speak however and leans back against the worktop to drink his own beverage.

you’ve always liked that he gives you room to think and make a note to show your appreciation later on. your boy’s love language was always through actions and hardly ever words.

but your bubble of sweet silence is soon burst when one of your partner’s friends darts into the kitchen, a look of excitement dancing brightly across pink lined features. her amber eyes land  on you first and swiftly find bakugou after causing a smile to break out against her features. “ohmygod finally, i was wondering where you guys got to! come on, the countdown’s about to start!” you quickly place her name to be mina, remembering her voice from the last time you’d met and offer her a sweet smile in return as her hand reaches out for yours. you take it.

bakugou tsks; clearly irritated but pushes himself off of the counter and follows behind you motherless, mina dragging you in the direction of the living room. somehow she effortlessly weaves you through sweaty bodies of students from the floors below and practically tosses you to the sharks that can be named as your boyfriends’ pals. luckily, your katsuki is right behind you to steady your hips while mina flops onto a couch with the others.

“there they are! two thirds of our favourite lovebirds...” someone to the right of you speaks up; you recognise her to be the roommate you’d walked in on when visiting bakugou’s place before christmas and relax a little. the girl was nice, affectionate and ever so sweet with you the first time you’d met. she curls up in the lap of another guy with green chair, who you presume is the ‘shitku’ or ‘deku’ your lovers had told you about, respectively.

speaking of, katsuki makes himself comfortable next to kirishima on his old loveseat from your hometown— you’d played rock paper scissors with him to keep it, but lost. you couldn’t complain though, the red heard rewarding you with a flurry of kisses in place of the old battered chair.

but with no room and the gang already taking up most of the couch, eijirou pulls you to sit on his thighs and wraps his arms around your middle before pressing a kiss atop your head. “missed you, where’d you go?” he pouts into your neck and fiddles with the frayed ends of your skirt, his free hand grasping at the drink he had.

“i was—“

“she was hidin’ in the kitchen; pretending to fix somethin’.” katsuki cuts you off, earning himself a glare from you and amused chuckles from others ( having pulled their attention away from the countdown on the television ). he attempts to snuggle closer to you both afterwards, making your red headed boy kiss his cheek. you could tell that your explosive boyfriend was feeling a little left out, he’d always doubted himself in the relationship the three of you had ever since he’d found out kirishima had you; his lover back in his hometown,  before college. but you’d loved kiri and couldn’t make him choose between the two people he needed most in his life, so despite the tears and drama...you’d learned to love bakugou as well.

you reach over to squeeze his hand but don’t miss the twitch of his lips into a smile while he watches the live countdown on tv.

kaminari; the blonde who sits at your feet pipes up next— cheeks red from the alcohol he nurses. “why were you hiding, doll?” he hiccups, earning himself a kick to he back from both bakugou and kirishima. “ouchies...”

“she probably wanted to get away from your annoying ass...” sero quips from across the group, where mina lazily toys with his jet black hair; causing bakugou’s roommate to snort and spew her drink in izuku’s face. as far as you were aware, the pair were living together in their apartment off campus and weren’t dating, but might as well have been. katsuki had told you sero was a coward but seeing them now made you think it was cute.

“fuck you, that’s mean!”

“ah, but kaminari my dear friend, it is true...”

a boy with dual eyes chuckles, himself and another figure join the latter male on the ground, hair ruffled and clothes clearly out of place. the girl blinks up at you with a sweet grin before turning to chat with the other girls while eiji fist bumps the male. you remember them as momo and todoroki respectively. bakugou’s roommate checks her watch quickly, a faux frown playing at her lips. “and you guys are done with fourty minutes to spare before new years , a new record...quite frankly, i’m impressed!”

it’s your turn to frown as the newbies blush and attempt to hide their faces. the rest of the group seem amused, sero and denki smirking between themselves, your boyfriends and izuku hiding embarrassed faces while the girls giggle and tease. you can’t help the next words.

“what were they doing?” you whisper innocently and mostly to yourself, unable to focus on the feeling of katsuki pressing kisses to your linked hands to avoid adding to the conversation. however; all eyes teeter over to you, making you freeze up and shuffle nervously in kirishima’s lap.

“fucking in the closet by the front door, they do it every year.” mina teases, causing your face to heat up while momo swats at the pink girl. “nasty right, yn?”

“quit it mina, you’re making her shy!”

you swallow hard and nod shakily, and swear you can almost feel the quiet groan that erupts from katsuki’s chest. “right...”

the group is clearly a little tipsy and you’re not quite drunk enough to feel eat ease with the antics of your lovers’ friends; but one thing lead to another and the topic of conversation lands on you. “maybe yn will get a little new years treat too—“ midoriya slurs somewhere off, by now he and his girlfriend alone have downed a bottle of vodka and cutely make out from time to time. and yet, your boyfriends both have different ideas, the hot headed blonde preparing to launch himself at izuku while the manly red head blushes a shade so deep it could rival his dyed hair.

“what’d you say, shitty nerd?”

it all happens way too fast and you can barely register bakugou’s sudden movement before it’s too late— his elbow jolts as he attempts to kill his best friend’s lover, resulting in eijirou’s drink being knocked clean out of his hand and all over your cute little shirt. you squeal and shudder as the cold liquid seeps right through the thin material, exposing your chest to partygoers and friends alike who cheer as the countdown locks onto thirty minutes until the new year.

kirishima jumps up right after you, shielding your exposed chest from his friends ( mostly denki ) who refuse to look away and leads you up to his room to change while bakugou barks out expletives at deku.

after all it was his fault that your cute tits were out on new years eve.

“what if she’s mad at us kiri? she was already feeling anxious about being here tonight and now—“

“she won’t bakubabe, she loves us and she’ll know it was just an accident, you were defending her honour after all...”

you choose this moment to push open the bathroom door of kirishima’s en-suite, having wiped away most of the beverage that had made your tummy sticky. luckily your skirt had survived his awful choice of rum and cola but at least you smelled nice. two sets of red eyes cast their gaze upon your form, naked apart from the cute pink bra that cups your breasts and tiny skater skirt that sits above your plush thighs.

the boys can already feel their mouths drying at the sight of you have exposed under the yellowing light of kirishima’s dorm room. your skin still shines with the reminders of alcohol as you make your way over to them on the bed, sitting between them with the aforementioned red head’s shirt in your hands.

instantly they shift closer towards you, absorbing your warmth as their fingertips graze your skin. “i told you guys i was fine, i know it was an accident.” you murmur softly, taking both of their hands into yours. “besides, i needed to get out of there for a bit, your friends are—“

“loud?” kirishima offers, kissing your knuckles.

“annoying?” this time it’s bakugou who speaks, shoving his face into your neck to hide from you, still apologetic. his soft blonde hair tickles your neck and you can’t help but giggle gently into the air. “you liked that.”

shaking your head, you pinch at his side and tug eijirou close enough for him to lean his head atop yours. “—they’re a lot, a lot to handle... i just need a little time to calm down before we head back out there.” briefly letting go of your boyfriends’ hands, you reach for the red band t-shirt sitting in your lap in order to shrug it on, but your red headed lover quickly stops you.

“i could think of a few ways to calm you down angel,” he mumbles lowly, so much so that you feel the sound ripple in kirishima’s chest but you’re too distracted by the sudden feeling of katsuki sucking gentle marks into the column of your throat. “we still have a bit of time before we hit midnight on the countdown, right bakugou?”

the hot headed boy only looks up briefly from your bruised and bitten skin, a devilish smirk crossing his lips while the boys work together to push you back onto the sheets. “damn right ei, say we got about twenty minutes to take her mind off things,” your body tingles at the way the talk about you as if you’re not even there, heat beginning to brew in the pits of your tummy. “so, keep the shirt off, won’t you baby?”

you release the offending material as if it’s burnt your palms, thighs spreading instinctively as kirishima’s hand wanders between them to smooth your soft flesh. “yes..., yes katsuki...”

“that’s not what we say, is it babe?” kiri scolds, slapping your inner thigh while bakugou leaves a trail of sloppy kisses that stop just atop your breasts.

“...i mean...yes, sir.”

“atta fuckin’ girl.”

your breath hitches at the feeling of katsuki’s finger tips wrapping around the base of your throat, his touch is delicate and compares starkly with the roughness of his skin— calloused from hard work and use of his quirk. eyes roll to the back of your head at that very thought, the idea that your lover could hurt you in the most delicious of ways using his explosive nature but you have little time to dwell on the fantasy as your other boyfriend moved to hover above your face, ruby red hair tickling at your forehead while he slots his lips against your parted ones.

kirishima’s lips are soft and bitter with the taste of rum clinging to every ridge and imperfection in the skin there so you reach up and weave your fingers through dyed locks in order to bring him closer. meanwhile, bakugou makes quick work of your laced bra— tearing it down to expose your nipples to the cool air they harden under. his hot mouth encapsulates the bud, rolling it between rows of sharp edged teeth in away that has your back arching for more. the blonde ravishes your chest teeth and tongue, while his freehand works on groping your other breast— both of the fleshy mounds being shown equal amounts of attention in different ways, making you whimper wetly against kiri’s mouth.

saliva pools on your tongue, collecting between you and your lover while his own explores the cavern of your hot mouth. the pair of you watch one another with hooded eyes as kirishima pulls away, nothing but a string on your drool connecting you. you swear that every nerve in your body lights up at once just at the sight. “katsuki, you should see yn’s little face right now,” he breathes weightily against your raw lips, hand coming up the squish your cheeks together almost painfully. “we’ve barley even touched her and she’s already looking so fucking fucked out.”

“eiji...sir, please...” you gargle at the mocking lilt to kirishima’s voice and let your hand slip from his hair to cup his wrist as he pinches at your cheeks once more.

but this time, katsuki is the one who speaks to you— vermillion eyes clouded with dark lust when he looks up at you. he’d long moved past his brutal assault on your chest, already leaving a mass of sloppy kisses and bite marks down your abdomen until now, where his head was buried right underneath your little skirt. “the fuck you begging for, slut?” the blonde sneers at you so harshly that pathetic tears begin to pool in your eyes. eijirou is quick to wipe them away before they can hit your heated cheeks but you can tell from the look on his face he’s even more turned on by the sight. “well? i asked you a question.”

“she’s crying, katsuki.”

“don’t give a fuck if she cries or not, i’ll give her a real reason to in a minute.” and katsuki bakugou always lives up to his threats, shuffling back under your skirt to press his tongue flat against your soaked panties. he groans into the material, sending vibrations straight up to your clit before he pulls the sticky material away  from your heat. “god...kiri, she’s s’fuckin’ wet. here.” you writhe against the sheets, jolting as bakugou guides your partner’s free hand to your gummy cunt.

his thick digits press into your sensitive nub and gather your slick between their fingertips, both boys watch in awe and hunger as more of the viscous nectar seeps out of you at their actions. “you’re right, she’s soaked, aren’t you baby?”

you can only nod weakly before the boys pounce, kirishima sucking his fingers clean before they go right back to drawing shapes on your puffy clit. bakugou wastes no time either, pinning you down to the bed with on arm as he slides his pink tongue up you the length of your glistening slit. the two of your lovers work together to make a mess of you, between the blonde slurping at your lower lips likes it his last mean and the red head circling your pleasure button over and over— you have no room to breathe.

all you can do is take what you’re given, throwing your head back as your  high pitched moans mingle with the steady beat of the music out in the hall. your pushy gushes around katsuki’s tongue as he forces it deeper into your tightness, committing each ridge to memory and dirtying his face with more of your juices. eijirou alternates the pressure of his fingers from time to time, grinning brightly every time your face twitches with need or with pleasure. your boys are so good to you, even when they’re in control of your body they always make sure you’re feeling good. getting you off, gets them off.

the waves of ecstasy are rolling off your sweat licked skin, the heat of two bodies pressed against you sending the temperature of your own off of the charts, arching perfectly every time katsuki nips at your pulsing pussy just right or eijirou pinches your clit between finger and thumb. you can’t help but leak all over the place, sure that there’s a dark patch on your innocent little skirt, but it’s worth it for the way your boys make you feel, for they tongue laps over your hard pleasure button even with fingers drawing every shape under the sun on it.

you gasp for air as the knot in your stomach twists and the fire of passion burns a brighter shade in your lower tummy, you sit right on the fence of earth shattering pleasure when both boys rip themselves away from you. “w-why’d...why’d you stop?” you wail, tears threatening to spill once more as your high slips away from your grasp.

you make an attempt to rut your hips into bakugou’s face that sits merely inches away from your sopping cunt, but he only smacks your thigh and cuts his eyes. “we’re checking the time, seeing how long we have left to make you feel good, so quit your fuckin’ cryin, okay?”

sniffling and bucking your hips into the air, you agree silently— only comforted by kirishima when he returns from his phone to cup your cheeks again, pressing kisses to your heated face. he slides his fingers that had been dirtied past your lips in a silent command to suck them clean too. “only twelve minutes left until the new year baby, can you cum, before then?” the red head coos you softly, but you don’t have the chance to respond, for bakugou latches right onto your pussy again, tongue thrusting in and out of your fluttering hole and sliding over your puffy clit.

kirishima hums against your neck while you choke and heave, his lips dancing across the base to add lovebites much harsher than your other lover between your shaky legs. your body calls for release as you tangle your fingers in a forest of blonde, causing your boyfriend to groan and hook his arms around your thighs— sucking, biting and ravishing your poor little entrance at an animalistic pace.

you jerk as the same feeling from earlier begins to unwind in your tummy, hips rolling violently against katsuki’s face. “gonna, mmmph....gonna—“

“what baby? what are you gonna do? be a good girl and tell daddy so he can help you...” eijirou coaxes the whines out of you, nosing up your bruised and bitten skin to trace over your wide parted lips. his own hand moves to join yours in your boyfriend’s hair, pushing his head further into your embarrassingly desperate cunt— lewd and wet sounds filling the air while katsuki growls at the slightly painful feeling.

“cum! gonna cum!” stars start to appear behind your eyes, splashes of colour dancing along your vision much like the people outside your room as you squeal and the knot in your stomach finally unravels with your release. the more explosive one out of your pair of lovers gulps down every drop of your sweet, honeyed release as the after shocks of your orgasm dash through your veins.

you watch with hooded eyes as bakugou leans up from between your slick thighs to share the taste of you in a kiss with kirishima, their tongues slide together in the filthy exchange, riling one another up while their hands slip under their shirts that have suddenly become to tight. stripping the offending garments, both of your boys return to you in your blissed out state, eyes wide with a carnal desire to take you again. “you did so well, naughty little thing,” bakugou hums, voice raspy as he pulls you into his chest. his caramel skin is almost too hot to the touch but it’s all you can focus on while you lose the feeling of eijirou to your left. the sound of a belt clinking further off is faint, but you pay it no heed as the blonde before you lays back with you on top of him. “‘gonna give you our cocks now, ‘kay princess? gonna cum on our cocks while we fuck you into next year...”

suddenly, you become hyper aware of the cockhead that presses against your creamy clit and gently push your hips back against it, just to hear katsuki groan. his large and worn palms settle on your waist as he grinds back to meet your sticky pussy— the feeling making both your mouths fall open in low groans. “gimme your cocks, please,” is all you can say, mind far to hazy to form a proper sentence containing any word other than please. “want it now, can’t wait,” you can barely finish your sentence, too needy to think as you press your lips against bakugou’s for the first time that night, shivering at the taste of your release against his tongue. the kiss is sloppy, going nowhere in particular as you grind against each other and wait for kiri.

speaking of the red headed devil, he leans over the two of you, grabbing your jaw delicately to steal a kiss from you as his own length presses hotly against your backside. “can’t let you two have all the fun, can i?” your boyfriend chuckles breathlessly, slowly circling his hips into your ass, you have no idea how long the boys have been hard for but they waste no more time lifting your hips to align both of their thick cocks against your entrance.

bakugou soothes small circles into your lower back as the two of them press into you,  there’s a slight sting as your hole resists their intrusion— a burn that brings tears to your eyes with the attempt to double stuff you but you bite your lip and focus on the feeling of their leaking tips smearing precum along your velvet lined walls. a broken moan escapes you when they finally bottom out, thick and length girths buried balls deep inside of your throbbing heat and trapping them in.

you pulse around them as the boys wait for you to adjust, their hot breath tickling at your ears and neck. “yn,” katsuki groans, fidgeting beneath you while your nipples harden against his chest. “you’re s’fuckin tight, do we not fuck you enough? shit baby...”

“uhuh, need you ta move, ta fuck me open...please,” you slur, slumping between kirishima and bakugou— you can barely form words, mind too hazy at the thought of being so full of your boyfriends and their leaking, sloppy cocks. they love seeing you so useless between them, barley able to move except for the occasional jump in your hips to prompt them to move.

“so cute, let’s give the poor baby what she wants, yeah katsuki?”

nothing could prepare you for the sudden feeling of both your boyfriends’ thrusting into you at once. it’s a tight fit that has you jolting so far forward, bakugou has to grip your hips to keep you still while kirishima grunts into your neck, hushing his own means with every kiss he places against your skin. the red head places a weighted palm on the base of your spine, forcing your ass up into the air and setting the pace. your cunt spasms with the roughness, soaking their cocks in your honeyed nectar as they push into you, stretching your hole for all it’s worth.

the boys have had their way with you before, usually taking turns forcing their cocks down your throat and painting your tongue with the taste of salty cum or spreading your thighs wide and licking you clean— but the way they double stuff you has you losing your goddamn mind, bright red cockheads catching on every ridge of your gummy walls at every push and pull of their hips. the two aren’t doing any better than you, poor katsuki whimpers at the way you attempt to roll your hips back onto them— chest heaving as his own cock brushes against his lover’s inside of you.

the youngest of the two, eijirou can barely breathe, stuck on how your cunt flutters around them, sweaty chest moulding perfectly with your arched back and hands grabbing fistfuls of your cute fleshy ass. the room is filled with heavy pants and the scent kid your sex in he air, clear liquid seeping down from your twitching pussy onto your thighs and splashing against heir pelvises. “what a sticky fuckin’ mess, huh princess?” the ash blonde somehow manages to mock you, his hazy blood red eyes dancing with amusement as your own well up with tears and your mouth hangs open in a needy wail when when kirishima manages to plough directly into your gummy sweet spot. katsuki weakly grabs hold of your cheeks, and like earlier, forces them together while your babble nonsense about how good it feels. he taps your cheeks a few times, almost as if he’s trying to rouse you from your fucked out state and smirks with pride when all you can do is cry some more. “oh shit, ei, we’ve fucked her dumb.”

his evil laugh rings out into the electric air, mingling with the grunts of your red headed lover and the should of skin slapping on skin. it’s so wet, so dirty and you should feel nasty for how their cocks cream warmly inside of you. the hand that rests of your back ( also belonging to ejirou ) slides up to the back of your neck, tugging you upwards while he chokes you out. “yeah baby? you turning into our dumb, brainless little bitch on new years? how pathetic.” the red haired boy utters hoarsely into your ear, nipping at it with sharpened teeth. the sudden gushing from your iron hot walls gives away how you feel about his degrading words, each one going straight to your core.

you find it in you to nod, arching your back and shivering when your lovers laugh at you, demean you for how much of a stupid slut you’re being when sandwiched between them. “feel so full...want more, fuck me more eiji, harder katsu...” you trip over each of your breathless words, falling into a throaty groan that comes from deep with. you want more, need more— and they give it to you. pumping into you at an eleven faster pace than before, the clapping of balls against your ass and count filling  your ears while the lively music begins to pump outside. ten boys live for his, taking you at a moment where anyone could walk in and see you stretched over their dribbling girths, the thrill drives them insane, drives you to sinful pleasures from worlds away.

“that’s our dumb little bitch, beg for more.” katsuki growls proudly, hand dropping between your entangled bodies to draw searing patterns into your clit— you’d scowl at him for activating his quirk every time his digits sparked over the puffy nub, but you were too far gone to care.

“keep rubbin one out on her bakugou— she clenches down so fucking hard when you do that.” kirishima sighs, hips beginning to stutter.

even the boys are joining you on cloud nine, eijirou tilting your head to get a good look at your face while you bounce back on their hardened lengths. bakugou and kirishima groan in unison at the sight of your lewd expression, eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out of your mouth while drool and tears smear across your mascara stained cheeks. what a fucking mess you are, body flushed and skirt stained, what a fucking mess they’ve made you— a weak and pathetic baby girl who shivers and writes each time a fat cock brushes up against your g-spot. broken laments slip from between your bruised lips as the two of your lovers angle their hips just right, prodding your pleasure spot over and over— and when both boys sneak hands down to press on your tummy bulge, you almost see stars.

your nails dig deeply into the pecks of the blonde beneath you, heart jumping as he lets out a broken howl of pleasure mixed with pain. the faint sound of a count down slips in from behind the closed door and you feel as if it’s a clock ticking towards your organs. desire flares up inside of you as you push and grind against your lover’s to chase your own release. “i’m so close, so so close... gonna cum, don’t stop. please don’t stop!” you chant, screwing your eyes shut while the boys give it their all.

three. the crowd cheers from outside.

“you cum when we say so, you cum on these fat cocks, okay honey? that’s right, that’s fucking right...” bakugou snarls, his own eyes crossing with the immense pleasure he feels from your welcoming heat. you nod feverishly and seek out his hand to hold.

two. drunken shouts spill into the halls, excitement crackling in the air.

their hips stutter, kirshima barley holding on as he works all three of you towards that final hurdle, kissing your cheek softly. “oh shit baby, the way you’re clamping around us...god, you’re gonna make me lose it. you can do it, you can cum for us...”

one. happy new year!

“holy fucking shit!”

“oh, fuck...yeah, yeah...”

colours, like fireworks, burst behind your eyes in flashes as the ecstasy that’s built up within you is finally released. your juices splash against the hips of bakugou and the pelvis of kirishima, painting them with your sweetness and making their skin shine under the yellow artificial light. they follow not long after as you tremble between their bodies; two loads of thick, hot cum spray your insides and cost it white— the potent milky liquid reaching as far as your womb, yet most of it leaking out of your velvet walls.

eijirou collapses to your side on the soiled sheets, watching with awe as a mix of all of your arousals seep out of your abused hole. you squirm in the elder’s  grasp as the red head’s fingers delicately scoop up some of the sticky mess and bring it to his mouth. a satisfied hum leaves his lips as he sucks bus own digits clean, blinking at both you and katsuki sleepily. “happy new year, guys, i love you.”

“yeah yeah, love you both too,” bakugou rolls his eyes but holds an arm out for the younger male to roll into, hugging you both to the blonde’s chest. despite his his gruff and harsh voice, you can still see the traces of adoration on his face. he loves you both so much and wouldn’t dare change this night for the world. “happy new year, ya horny little bastards.”

completely blissed out and too tired to scold him for sounding so mean, however, you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the younger’s nose before sneaking one to the grump in which you lie on. “i love you guys so much, you nasty boys.”

the three of stay curled up for a while after that, as the party outside bursts with hopefulness for the new year. it seems as though you’re all going to fall asleep when the door bursts open to reveal a certain tipsy group of friends.

“so this is what you guys were doing instead of celebrating the countdown with us,”  mina chimes, hanging off of sero’s back as she peeks her head through the doorway. you squeal and make a dive for the blankets, hiding your naked body from the view of your lovers’ prying friends.

bakugou’s roommate huffs triumphantly while izuku, todoroki and momo fail to hold back their laughter. “told you she was gonna get laid.”

kirishima flushes red as his hair and makes an attempt to join you in hiding under the sheets while your explosive boyfriend jumps out of the bed in full naked glory, activating his quirk to threaten his friends. “i’m gonna count to three, and all of you better start fucking running before i kick your asses for bursting in on us.”

“but i thought we already had a countdown...y’know for the new year,”denki dumbly comments. “don’t be silly baku bro!” but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on his thought for your angry boyfriend is already chasing him down the hall, explosions sparking at his sides.

it’s the first day of the new year and denki kaminari is already going to die at the hands of abutt naked katsuki bakugou.

happy fucking new year indeed.

[kalopsicceraunophile]

Liquid, Oil and Cream pt.2

Summary: Reader washes her hair with Peter by her side. Peter helps rinse the reader's hair in the shower. 

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Black!Fem!Reader 

Content: Steamy fluff, implied smut, intimacy within shower

Notes: I’m back besties!! This one was a doozy to write, maybe I’ll give y’all smut? We shall see. I hope you like it

All characters in this story are 18/18+. Forgot to put that in the last one!!

Word Count: 1K+ (1441) words

pt.2.5:  Lust, Obsession and Confession

________________________________________________________________

Part Two: Wash Day

Length: 2.5 inches

Spray bottle? Check. 

Clay Mask? Check.

Pre-Shampoo? Check.

Shampoo and Conditioner? Check.

Combs? Check.

Okay I think I am ready

You placed all your needed products in your caddy and proceeded into your bathroom. Before stepping in, you quietly chuckled to yourself, remembering the day that began your natural hair journey.

By now, you along with Peter were freshmen in college and your hair had grown an impressive 2 inches. Your hair now encircled your head, which according to Peter, gave you an ethereal air about you. Peter had adopted “sunflower” as your nickname because of the way your hair frames your face. 

Taking care of your new curls has been a daunting task. Finding what worked for your hair, when to wash it, what products to use, your porosity, hair type. But through it all, Peter had been there. He would research beneficial hair treatments for retention, growth, clarification, you name it. He would save his money to buy products and would slip them into your caddy; he had to spoil the girl he loved after all.

You slipped on an old t-shirt and began the process. Your parents had gone on a trip to celebrate their anniversary, leaving you with the peace and quiet needed to do your hair. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, only to hear someone replicate your sigh.

You opened your eyes to see Peter behind in the reflection of your mirror, holding back his laughter. You spun around with your fist up only to find it in the hand of your boyfriend. He looked down at you with a sarcastic expression.

“You know your ‘heightened senses’ really piss me off.”

“Oh hush, I know you like it.” Smirk etched into his face.

“Anyways, you need to get out. I’m about to wash my hair so this is about to become a disaster zone.”

“I want to help. If I can take some of the load off, then I want to.” Peter said with a shrug.

“Yeah, no. You’ll need some more watching experience before you can get hands on.’

“Okay number one, I want to learn because I love you. Number two, woah.” His eyebrows raised with a bewildered expression.

You rolled your eyes as you wet your hair with the spray bottle. You started to mix the clay mask with a spare bowl, which Peter took from your hands to start mixing. You rolled your eyes as you watched

When he was done, you scrapped the product up and smoothed it out on your hair, massaging it into your scalp and roots.

“This may be an ignorant question. But why exactly are you putting clay in your hair?”

“Well I have been wearing a lot of styles with product, so the properties of the clay will help balance out my hair from all that gunk.”

Peter took mental note of this. Another product to buy, but he would stop at nothing to treat his princess.

After the prep, shampoo and detangling, it was time to deep condition. You had done all the necessary steps and now it was to rinse. While you could have rinsed in the sink, you felt the need to take a long shower, so why not rinse in there?

“Hey Pete, I’m gonna rinse my hair in the shower. I need you to get out.”

“ Nooo…can I stay? I promise I’ll close my eyes. See, look.” He raised his hands up to his eyes.

This raised a thought in your head. Intimacy was something new between the two of you. Of the 3 months you had been together, the most you two have done was makeout. Maybe this could be something to bring you two closer. Plus, he did want to learn how to do your hair.

“You wanna get in with me?” You tried to be as natural sounding as possible.

“ Woah—um—Hold on. You’re asking if I want to take a shower with you?” His eyes widened as blood rushed to his cheeks turning them into a crimson red.

“Well you did say you wanted to help. But if you don’t want to—”

Peter started to strip at warp speed. Jacket, t-shirt, pants all on the bathroom floor.

“Umm…” Peter looked at you, still in his draws.

“Well turn around so I can take mine off.” you said, fluttering your fingers to shush him off.

As he turned, you began to remove your clothes. What were you thinking? This was the last time you would be so reckless. 

Well, here goes nothing

“You can turn around now.”

When Peter laid his eyes on you—or all of you to be more precise—he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. He couldn’t believe that he was dating you, let alone anyone like you. He simply fell in love with you again.

“You are so beautiful.” He struggled to speak. Love was quite literally clogging his throat, 

“Peter, are you okay?”

“Yeah, mhmm, yeah.” He furiously shook his head.

“Well, take your draws off and let’s get in.” You pointed to the running shower. While you sounded nonchalant about this, you were erupting internally.

Damn, he got it going on. I mean, he is Spider-man, but dayum he gotta nice body. I should have done this a LONG time ago. 

The water hit both of you, relaxing all the stress from the massaging, combing, mixing of the day. You cupped your hands into the water and ran them across your face. You turned to meet Peter only to find him in the corner, eyes clenched close and muttering to himself.

“What the hell are you doing Peter?”

“ I’m praying that this never ends. I am in heaven.” He said while looking up at the ceiling with benevolence.

You grabbed his hands and placed them on your head.

“You are here to learn how to do my hair, not to oogle at me. Now, massage my scalp.”

“Yes ma’am.”

As he started, it seemed that all your worries left your mind, as if Peter was plucking them out through your hair. The way his fingers moved across your head was orgasmic. 

“Okay, I’m gonna rinse now.”

“No, let me do it!” He spun you around and leaned you back into the water stream. He ran the water through your hair, cupping your head to give you balance. 

“ I swear to God, if you drop me—”

“Just shut up.” His lips crashed into yours, earning silence from your end. He broke off, kissing your eyelids and forehead and pulled you upright. The way the water ran down your hair and body, how it dangled from your eyelashes like ornaments, the heaving of your chest from the kiss, was something spiritual to him. You were divine in his eyes; the Goddess he worshipped. How your eyes bore into me, he thought. Like they know every thought in my mind. Yeah, he knew that he was head over heels for you.

“(Y/N), you know you’re my world, right?”

You nodded your head.

“Can I hold you?”

You nodded your head.

And there you were, embracing Peter with the water cascading over you two. You never felt closer to anyone like this before. Peter caused urges, small fires within you. You knew he knew this, if not then than now. You knew this was true for him as well. You could tell how he touched you; how his finger glided across your wet skin, how he became like water at your touch.

“You know, I’m not as fragile as you think I am.”

“Oh, I know.” He chuckled. 

“So if you ever wanted to—I don’t know—fornicate. Then ask me.”

“Did you just use the term fornicate?” He cupped your face, holding a laugh.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” 

“ Oh nothing. Just didn’t know I time-traveled back to 1912, that’s all.”

“Okay that’s it, I’m leaving.” You made it to your bed before you felt something pull you.

Peter and these fuck-ass webs

You came crashing into him as he held you against his body.

“Do you want to fornicate?” He said in a deadpan tone

“Are you being serious?”

“If you look down, you would know how serious I am.”

(Let’s just say he had a massive problem on his hands)

“Hold on.” You leapt from his arms and reached down into your bedside drawer, pulling out the tightest bonnet you had. Pulling it over your head, you turned around to Peter, love sketched into his entire face.

You walked up and caressed the side of Peter’s face.

“Yes, I would love to fuck you.” 

Fuck, who needs to walk anyway?

FIN

[joonessence]

The moon // pjm

⤷part of the In the cards series

pairing: jimin x fem oc

summary: It’s never-ending, what Jimin feels for you is constant and boundless. But you don’t know, you’ve never known, and Jimin thinks that’s okay. Until you find out and think that it’s not.

rating: M (18+)

tags: friends to lovers au, smut in the forms of tit play, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, kinda sub jimin but not for long, very slight possessive jimin (squint to see it), unprotected sex, very slight praise kink, creampie, cum eating, i hate doing the tags y’all i think this is it

wc: 4k

notes: this is part of my tarot cards series so the banner below is the spread for this specific fic, kinda lets you know what to expect

Jimin can’t help but to watch you from across the room. His eyes follow your movements as you lightly shove Jungkook, teasing him about something Jimin isn’t following, deciding that his attention was better spent looking at you. This isn’t the first time Jimin has lost himself in observing you, in fact, it happens more often than he’d care to admit. At first, Jimin tried to control it, quickly averting his eyes when he realized he was staring just a little too hard. But soon, Jimin found it impossible to look away from you.

See, when Jimin first met you all those years ago, he realized quickly that he’d have trouble getting you off his mind. The way you made his heart beat too fast and his palms get all sweaty were sure signs that he had it bad for you. He figured it would go away soon because it was just a small crush, nothing to worry about. But for Jimin, it never did seem to go away. When he was with you, he just wanted to be closer to you, ensuring he always had the chair beside you to get a front row seat to your radiant smile. When he was away from you, all he did was think about you and your pretty laugh.

Yeah, Jimin’s got it really bad for you.

He thought about confessing to you countless times. Confessing that he ached to be beside you always, that no matter what he did he just couldn’t seem to get you out of his head. God, he wanted to tell you so bad. And he’d get close to it too, pulling you aside, saying he needed to tell you something important. Only, when the time came for him to speak, nothing would come out and he’d find himself scrambling to make something up on the spot.

Although he wishes you knew how he felt about you, Jimin thinks it’s okay that you don’t know. He’s happy to be in your life regardless. Even if he doesn’t get to be the one who takes you out and takes you home and takes your clothes off. God, Jimin wants to take your clothes off.

“Isn’t that right, Jimin?” Your voice directed towards him pulls Jimin out of his thoughts that are quickly turning obscene. “I mean, you know Jungkook pretty well. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You’re looking at him with your eyes wide, waiting for him to agree with you. You’re wearing such a simple outfit but Jimin thinks you look so pretty like this, loose dark green t-shirt half tucked into your jeans and your baby hairs framing your face. Jimin flushes at your prolonged attention on him.

“S-sorry, I wasn’t really listening,” Jimin stammers, partly because he was still unsure of what you were asking him and partly because you just make him nervous.

Jimin’s heart pounds in his chest when you narrow your eyes at him like you’re suspicious of his answer. Just as you open your mouth, Jungkook interrupts, taking your attention off of Jimin. He sighs out a shaky breath. That was a close one, Jimin can’t let you catch him staring like that again.

You and Jungkook continue your playful bickering about God knows what. Jimin doesn’t care enough to start listening, probably wouldn’t even be able to hear the two of you over the sound of his own heart beating so loudly. Sighing, he gets up and steps out onto the balcony for some much needed air.

Hearing his distressed sigh, you and Jungkook’s eyes follow Jimin as he walks away, running his hand through his hair as he goes. You turn to Jungkook with a confused face, silently asking if he knew what was wrong.

“Ah, I don’t know, just ignore him,” Jungkook says, not looking you in the eye.

Jungkook’s a terrible, horrible liar, always has been; you see right through it.

“What is it, Jungkook? Is he upset with me?” You question.

Jungkook scoffs, only making you more confused. You motion for him to continue.

“Jimin likes you,” Jungkook says as if it’s common knowledge and then pauses. “A lot.”

You think your heart stops for a second, before you come to your senses and punch Jungkook in the arm for joking around when you’re not.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jungkook pouts and rubs his arm trying to alleviate the pain.

“Jungkook, seriously. Stop kidding. What’s wrong with him these days?”

“I just told you! He likes you!”

Jimin likes you? Since when? There’s no way, you of all people wouldn’t have figured that out if it was true. But, the thought of it makes your cheeks burn. You always saw Jimin like an angel, something beautiful that you could never be with. It was why you never said anything, figured you’d spare yourself the heartache because nothing but embarrassment would come out of it anyway.

Just then, Jimin walks back in, immediately turning into his and Jungkook’s shared kitchen. You stare at Jungkook with your eyes wide, hoping he might explain more of the details.

“You know what’s wrong now,” Jungkook leans closer to you so Jimin doesn’t hear and whisper-yells. “He’s like head over heels for you, he doesn’t shut up about you!”

“He’s never said anything to me! How can I know for sure?” You whisper-yell back.

“Oh, trust me, you should hear him when he—” Jungkook shuts up when Jimin walks around the corner, headed down the hallway to his room. Jungkook gives you a ‘say something!!’ look and for some reason you listen to him.

“Jimin!” You call out after him, still trying to figure out what to say next.

He turns to you, “Yeah? What’s up?”

Your brain races to find something to say, but comes up short.

“Uh—,” You start, just to fill the space.

“She wanted to know if you’d come over tonight! Right?” Jungkook fills in and turns to you, nodding his head slightly so that you’d get the hint.

“R-right!” You nod your head rapidly.

“She asked me too but I have plans tonight. But you should go!” Jungkook sounds just as nervous as you feel. Terrible, horrible liar.

Jimin looks at you, slightly unsure at the way you and Jungkook are acting but then you send him this smile. This smile, that makes Jimin remember all that is good and pure in this world and he’s sold on your offer.

“Sure, when should I come over?”

“Umm, around 5?” You say, then remember the mess that is your one bedroom apartment. “Actually, how’s 6?”

“6 is good, I’ll see you then,” Jimin smiles at you sweetly before turning to make his way to his room.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Jimin’s coming over. He likes you and he’s coming over. Once you hear the door to Jimin’s bedroom click shut, you turn to Jungkook frantically.

“What should I do?” You ask, panic evident in your voice.

“What do you mean ‘what should you do?’” Jungkook obviously doesn’t understand your current dilemma.

You groan at his obliviousness, “I mean, how should I act? Now that I know he likes me?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts, turning to face you fully. “You like him back don’t you?”

Your cheeks burn and you nod slowly. You’ve never told anyone about your feelings for Jimin, out of fear that he’d find out.

“Okay, good. Your next step is obvious. Seduce him.”

You choke on nothing at his suggestion, you want to punch him in the face for even saying that. “Jungkook, are you crazy? How would I even know what to do?” Your hands come up to your temples, rubbing to try and soothe the imminent headache coming your way.

“Jimin is so desperate for you, do anything,” Jungkook reassures you. “Just make a move on him, I’m tired of hearing him in the shower every night.”

Your eyes widen, “Wait wha—”

“I’m not explaining, now go clean your place before Jimin sees how messy you really are,” Jungkook stands, straightening his shirt. “And good luck! Don’t bring Jimin back till well past 11:30, okay?”

“I hate you,” You groan, standing up too to grab your things before saying goodbye and calling out “I’ll see you later!” to Jimin.

Hearing the front door shut, Jimin scrambles into Jungkook’s room where he finds him laying down.

“Oh my god, what now?” Jungkook opens one eye to look at Jimin.

“I can’t go, I won’t be able to control myself,” The words fall out of Jimin’s mouth so quickly Jungkook struggles to catch them.

“Relax. It’s gonna be fine,” Jungkook sits up, motioning for Jimin to sit down beside him.

“How can you be so sure?” Jimin’s voice wavers, he’s so nervous.

“Just trust me, hyung,” Jungkook rubs Jimin’s shoulder, comforting him as much as he could.

“Okay,” The crease in Jimin’s brow has eased a bit. “I guess I’ll go get ready.”

Jimin spends his time picking out his outfit and hating it, then picking out a different one and hating that one too. He messes with his hair, trying to figure out what would look best. Jimin can’t seem to decide on anything. All the while, he’s trying to figure out what he should talk to you about, if he should show up with a gift, maybe flowers? Jimin pops into Jungkook’s room every so often, asking him every question that comes to mind and Jungkook tells him over and over again that he’s overthinking it. Jimin knows he’s probably right; he just can’t calm down when it comes to you.

Being good friends with him and his friends, Jimin saw you quite frequently. He loved seeing you, hearing you laugh at stupid jokes that were being said. And as much as he loved seeing you, most of the time, Jimin tried not to be alone with you. You get Jimin all flustered, make his hands get clammy, he can barely get out complete sentences when it’s just you and him.

Jimin sends you an “i’m here” text when he parks his car and you come down to meet him. He sucks in a breath when he sees you wearing a light yellow dress that hits your mid-thigh.

“Hi, Jimin,” You rock back on your heels, waiting for him to answer.

“H-hey, thanks for inviting me.” Is Jimin still breathing, it doesn’t feel like he’s still breathing.

You wave your hand at his thanks, “Come on.”

You grab his arm and lead him to the elevator, pushing the button to the fourth floor. Jimin’s still unsure if he’s breathing or not, but he has to say it.

“You look nice.” Your smile at his compliment practically blinds Jimin. “P-pretty.”

Your cheeks flame. Yeah, you dressed hoping he would like it but that didn’t mean you were expecting to hear him say it.

“T-thanks,” You bite your cheek and look down, praying Jimin doesn’t see just how red you’ve become.

The rest of the ride up is silent, save for Jimin tapping his fingers on the railing, trying to ease his nerves. You don’t have to lead Jimin to your apartment, he knows which one it is, having visited with Jungkook plenty of times. You fumble with your keys, hands shaking slightly at the idea of you and Jimin being alone.

“I got us some snacks,” You say as you open the door and direct him to the small coffee table that has bags of chocolate and candies and chips piled up.

“That’s… a lot of snacks,” Jimin turns to you and laughs softly.

“I wasn’t sure what to get, okay?” You mumble and turn to close the door (and to hide your, once again, flushed cheeks).

Jimin’s made his way to your living room, sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa. Taking a deep breath, you sit beside him reaching for the tv remote and handing it to Jimin.

Jimin doesn’t even remember what movie he picked. He keeps his eyes glued to the tv even though doesn’t like the movie because it’s better than losing himself in the way your crossed legs look in that dress. Doesn’t even want to think about how smooth your thighs would feel under his palms. Jimin is a weak, weak man, especially when it comes to you.

45 minutes into the movie Jimin picked you’re so uninterested in the movie you could die. You look over to Jimin, his eyes are unwavering from the tv, his hand stuck in the air with a chip in it, too busy to bring it up to his mouth. Even in his focused state he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, lips puckered in confusion and his brows furrowed. You want to roll your eyes at him for not taking the perfect opportunity to say something to you. Leave it to yourself to make anything happen.

You slowly slide your hand across the short distance to his knee. You place it there lightly, feeling Jimin tense slightly underneath. His attention is now on your small hand, you can hear him gulp.

“Jimin,” you purr from beside him, squeezing his knee making him jolt. “Jungkook told me something today.”

Jimin gulps again, heart creating earthquakes inside his body. “W-what did he say?”

You turn your body towards him, sitting on your knees and sliding your hand just an inch higher. Jimin can’t make eye contact with you.

“Well, he told me something about you,”

Jimin’s breathing is shallow now, chest moving up and down quickly. You’re looking down at him with this look that makes him feel like he’s going to explode and Jimin thinks he probably will soon. Then you throw a leg over his lap, making yourself comfortable on his thighs and Jimin knows he’s going to combust.

“O-oh? W-what would that be?” He tries, really tries to sound cool, unaffected by your practically bare legs around him but fails.

Your clothed core against Jimin’s thigh provides instant relief to the pressure that had built up. You slide your hands up his toned chest, slinging your arms around his neck. Jimin flushes at your sudden closeness. He tries so hard not to ogle the way your tits squish together but the neckline of your dress is so low and Jimin can’t help it.

“Oh, come on, Jimin! I know you like me, know you wanna fuck me,” You say exasperatedly. “Jungkook told me!”

“He told you that?” Jimin looks horrified at Jungkook’s breach of trust.

“Well don’t you?” You cock your head to the side, baffled as to why he hasn’t pushed the skirt of your dress up to your waist by now.

Jimin carefully brings his hands to rest on your hips, still wary of the situation. Under his touch, your body feels like it’s on fire. You can feel your panties sticking to your soaking pussy. You move up Jimin’s thighs, your chest almost touching his.

“Don’t you, Jimin?” You repeat your question softly. “Just say it; I know you do.”

“F-fine. I like you,” Jimin blushes fiercely, mumbling under his breath. “Wanna fuck you. Can’t believe he told you.”

Your heart does twirls at Jimin’s confession. You duck your head down, trying to catch his eyes but he looks away.

“Jimin,” His name comes out so softly. “I like you too, you know.”

Jimin’s head shoots up, his eyes are wide and starting to water a bit. He’s wanted to hear you say those words for so long that maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. He couldn’t have heard you correctly, could he?

“R-really?” He asks so quietly, as if he says it any louder you might change your mind.

“Really,” You confirm, brushing your thumb against his soft cheek.

“Oh,” Jimin looks flustered now. “I didn’t know.”

“And now that you do?” You’re so close to begging him to just do something.

With his heart leaping, Jimin inches his face closer to yours. Jimin’s longed to know how your lips would feel for so long, they always look just so soft. He wants to know if they’re as soft as they look. His eyes flicker down to them, just in time to catch your tongue poking out to wet them. The sight makes Jimin surge forward, planting his lips on yours.

Jimin’s lips feel just like you imagined, plush and velvety against yours. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, tilting your head to the side. You want to savor your first kiss with him, really you do, but it seems your hips have a mind of their own when they move against the growing tent in Jimin’s pants. You can’t contain the whine that tumbles out of your mouth, much like Jimin can’t control the groan he lets out.

“Jimin,” It comes out muffled against his lips.

Jimin doesn’t dare to take his lips off yours, only letting out a low “hm?” in response.

It takes all your strength to pull away from him, but you're desperate to feel him touch you.

“Do you wanna take my dress off?” You ask, already pushing a strap down.

Jimin’s hand doesn’t move fast enough to push down the other strap making the dress fall slightly. He groans at the sight of the tops of your breast being exposed. His hands pull down the neckline of your dress, nipples pebbling as they are exposed to the cold air. His hands come up to cup them softly, just pressing the pads of his fingers into the flesh.

“Jimin,” You whine. “Do something.”

Leaning forward, Jimin licks a circle around your nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and index finger. The cry you let out is lewd and it’s music to Jimin’s ears. His tongue rubs over your nipple before he latches on it, sucking roughly. Your fingers tangle in the strands of Jimin’s hair, pushing him as close to you as possible.

“God, I love your tits,” Jimin confesses before moving to the other nipple.

You let out a pathetic moan, pushing your crotch down on Jimin’s, craving any kind of relief. Jimin moans around your nipple, sending vibrations throughout your body. He removes his mouth from you, leaning back and kneading your breasts with both hands. You flush under his intense gaze, hips still rocking back and forth.

“Can I taste you?” The  obscenity of what he says and the politeness of Jimin’s voice don’t match up sending shivers down your spine.

“Y-yeah, please.”

You let Jimin guide you to the floor, placing a pillow under your head and another under your hips. He pulls the dress down your legs, setting it to the side with care. You giggle at that, it’s so Jimin, and he sends you a small smile. Between your legs, Jimin runs his palms up and down your thigh (they’re just as soft as he thought they would be). Leaning down, he kisses up your thigh to the band of your panties, placing soft kisses there too. Your body buzzes under Jimin’s lips.

“Gonna take this off,” Jimin murmurs against your skin.

He rolls them your legs, placing them aside, using the same care he did with the dress. You’d giggle again but the way Jimin’s taking in the sight of your dripping pussy clenching around nothing makes the giggle get caught in your throat.

“So pretty,” Jimin sounds in awe as he traces the puffy lips of your cunt.

His praise makes your face flush. His fingers trace lightly around you before he pushes forward and leaves a wet kiss on your fluttering clit.

“J-Jimin,” You gasp at the feeling of his tongue, taking short quick flicks against you.

He travels down to your clenching hole, licking a thick stripe all the way up to your clit, sucking harshly.

You sob loudly, closing your legs around Jimin’s head. His arms wrap around your thighs to keep them open.

“You taste so good,” Jimin divulges before continuing his attack on your clit.

His fingers probe lightly against your drenched core, dipping them in lightly before taking them out again. You push your hips down on his face, greedy for more of him. You can feel him smirk against you at your urgency. He pushes two fingers in slowly, waiting until you’ve gotten used to the stretch before pulling them out and shoving them back in. You throw your head back in ecstasy, calling out Jimin’s name.

“So wet for me, all for me,” Jimin says it like he can’t believe it.

His fingers scissor inside you, curling when he hears you moan loudly, his tongue still assaulting your clit. He can feel you tightening around him, your walls fluttering.

“Jimin,” You call out warningly. “I-I’m so close.”

“That’s good, baby,” He says proudly, speeding up the pace of his fingers.

“N-no, wanna cum around you,” It comes out of your mouth brokenly.

Jimin groans against your clit, sending another wail out of your mouth. You whine when he pulls his fingers out even though it was your doing. Jimin quickly rids himself of his jeans, the tightness of them was starting to get painful. He situates himself between your legs again, grabbing his cock and pumping it a few times before rubbing the tip against your folds.

“Jimin,” You plead, impatient to feel Jimin stretch you. “Please.”

Jimin pushes in slowly, letting out a whine when he can feel you stretch around him. You cling to his shoulders, making crescent marks with your fingernails.

“Y-you feel fucking amazing,” Jimin pants. “Holy shit.”

You moan loudly as Jimin starts driving his cock further inside you. Jimin’s lips find your neck, leaving wet kisses down the base.

“Feels so good, Jimin.”

Your hands tangle in his hair again, pulling at the roots causing Jimin to moan.

“Been waiting forever to fucking do this,” Jimin says between thrusts. “Don’t ever wanna fucking stop.”

“T-then don’t.”

Jimin’s rhythm speeds up, thrusting in and out of you roughly. With one hand beside your head steadying him, he reaches his other hand down to your clit, rubbing in circles with two fingers. The obscene squelching sound of your pussy and you and Jimin’s moan bounce off the walls.

“J-Jimin, I’m close, so f-fucking close,” You sob loudly, tears welling in your eyes.

“Kiss,” You reach out for Jimin, trying to pull him down to you. “Kiss me, please.”

Jimin obliges happily, smashing his swollen lips on yours. Your pussy clenches around him before your release gushes out. You see stars as your legs shake around him.

“Good girl, my good girl,” Jimin praises, still thrusting inside you, chasing his own release.

As you come down from your orgasm, Jimin’s trusts become sporadic, signalling to you that he’s close too.

“Cum inside, please.”

Jimin looks at you like he’s never heard something more pleasing. You watch his face crumple in bliss as he releases inside you, covering your walls in white.

Chest heaving, Jimin slumps forward, careful not to put all his weight on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You’re both sweaty and it might have felt gross to Jimin if this was someone else, but this was you and Jimin has loved you for so long.

When he catches his breath, he moves down your body to look at you. Jimin never wants to forget the way your pussy looks when his cum is dripping out of it. You whine at the sensitivity when he swipes his tongue against you, collecting your mixed arousal. He leans back up to kiss you, letting you taste him and yourself on his tongue. And that might have felt gross to you if this was someone else, but this was Jimin and you have loved for so long.

Jimin pulls away with a satisfied smile, laying down beside you.

“So, what did Jungkook tell you?”

You turn to him with a smirk on your face, “Told me you think about me in the shower.”

Jimin’s face turns redder than you’ve ever seen it.

“I’m gonna kill him, seriously.”

“Really?” You tease, tracing your finger on Jimin’s chest. “I think we should thank him.”

“You’re right,” Jimin concedes. “I’m gonna thank him and then kill him.”