#Just let me slowly kill myself in peace

[xximperioxx]

Peace

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: spoilers?, depression, anxiety , swearing, pregnancy mention, suicidal tendencies,

Notes: not beta read (thats too scary for me) I literally wrote this at 3 in the morning and I just want to give this man a hug. Obviously inspired by Peace by Taylor Swift.

————————————————————

You didn’t need to ask where Robby, your attending, was. You already know he slipped to the roof before anyone could see him. Hiding your “secret” relationship has never been harder than today. There was nothing more you wanted than to be able to hold and support him as you saw him cry and breakdown. People who were close to you knew of your relationship but neither of you acted upon it in public. More specifically at work.

You find him looking down at the city below him.

“If you jump, I’ll find a way to save you and then kill you myself.”

He turns his head to see you. He sighs, “Don’t.”

You sit yourself into the railing and swing your legs over, your arms balancing you as you look out at the lights of the city.

“I came here to be alone.” He mumbled.

You glance at him, “Well, I came here to be with you.” He sighs.

The two of you sit in silence for a while. Robby finds himself taking a step closer to the edge, looking down. He could never jump off but the thought is always there. It’s lingering as if taunting him that he could finally catch a break. He continues to blink away tears.

You finally speak up, “I am so proud of you.”

Robby scoffs and looks away. You slide off the railing, now leaning against it.

“I’m serious, Michael.” He looks at you when he hears his first name. “You are the strongest person I know.”

Your heart breaks when you hear him sniffle. You had been by his side for the majority of his breakdowns but this was the one the worst you’ve seen. Normally you had been in either your or his apartment when he needed you to calm you down. Since Adamson’s death the breakdowns had been frequent.

He stifles out a sob, “I-I broke and-and I shut down.”

You reach for him, guiding him to lean against the railing with you, “Michael. You’re allowed to be vulnerable at work. It’s not you being weak.”

“People n-needed me and I let them down.” He quickly wipes his tears away.

“If you ask anyone down there, they would all tell you the same thing. You are the glue that keeps us together as a team. You reach out and intertwine your hands.

“You’re our rock,” you pause, “And rocks will break down and wear away because of what comes their way but regardless, they are always strong.”

Robby lets his body droop and his head falls into your chest while shaking, trying to stop his tears. He leans his ear against your chest to focus on your heartbeat. You don’t realize you’re crying until you notice the specks of tears splattered on your glasses which are foggy from condensation.

You lean your head against his. You hold him in silence. The both of you occasionally sniffled, finally beginning to calm down.

“I will continue to love you even if you’re a pebble.”

“Stop comparing me to a rock.” His voice muffled from your chest.

You let out a small laugh. He slowly pulls away from you. The two of you stare at each other, taking in tired and bloodshot eyes. You softly wipe his tears away. Your hands linger on his face, gently holding it. He reaches up and puts his hand on yours.

Robby’s voice cracks, “W-What if I can never give you peace? The peace that comes with life you want with me,” he pauses. Pressing his lips together hoping to prevent himself from crying again, “I-I don’t know if I could ever give that to you.”

You shake your head trying to ignore what he was saying. You had discussed it–both of your hopes and dreams. A family, a house, a wedding. A future together.

You wanted to laugh and tell him it was too late for that. To kiss him and tell him the news but you knew the time wasn’t right. Your future already future growing inside of you.

“I will be by your side no matter what. Even if you decide you don’t want to do this,” you gesture to the hospital, “anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”

He blinks away more tears. “I love you.” He brings your hand to his lips and places a light kiss on it.

You reach up and give him a soft kiss. The kiss was salty but neither of you minded. “In every lifetime. It’s you and me. Forever.”

Neither of you hear Abbot approach you until he clears his throat. “You guys could have waited until you were off the clock.”

You pull away from your boyfriend with a roll of your eyes.

“You always gotta complain about something, Jack.” You joke.

Robby lets out a sad laugh before he turns away looking back at the city. Abbot gives you a look, silently asking if he can help. You give him a nod.

You give Robby’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll meet you downstairs, ok?” He nods.

Ducking under the railing, you walk up to Abbot and place your hand on his shoulder, “Let me know if you guys need me.” He nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You find yourself walking ahead of the two attendings, letting them talk amongst themselves. You knew that if anyone knew what Robby was going through it would be Abbot.

The voices and laughs of your coworkers catch your attention as you walk into the park. You see Donnie and Princess with a large cooler sitting at the benches. “Well well well, look what we have here,”

The two of them raised their beers in greeting you. You sit down on the bench with a tired sigh, waiting for Abbot and Robby.

Donnie holds up a beer, offering you one. “You want one?” You shake your head no in response.

Your boyfriend drops his backpack on the ground as Abbot takes a seat with a groan.

Donnie grabs two beers, tossing one to Robby and Abbot. Robby catches his with ease, cracking it open before squeezing down next in your bench space.

Abbot fails to catch his beer. He bends down to pick it up. “Nice catch,” Robby jokes at the same time you say, “That was sad,” with a laugh. Abbot reaches over and gives a whack to the back of your head.

“To the Pitt crew,” Donnie raises his drink.

“To the people we saved,” Princess added.

“And the ones we couldn’t.” Abbot concludes. You feel Robby put his hand on your thigh. You hide your surprise. You give him a smile and a gentle squeeze.

“Here, here.” The group of you toast.

Robby takes a few sips of his now almost empty beer. He gestures to you, offering a drink. You shake your head. He looks at you with concern and you give him a reassuring look, mumbling something about not feeling too well and it’s probably just a headache.

Mateo, Mohan, and Javadi greet the group with smiles and Donnie hands out more beers. You rest your eyes as the group makes small talk.

Robby’s sudden laugh jolts you. You give him a nudge and he looks at you with a sorry grin. He rubs a hand over his face still laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Mohan questions as her and Javadi look at each other concerned.

Robby sits up, “I just realized it’s your first shift.”

The intern nods.

“I’m so sorry it was a shit first day.” You feel bad for the girl. Javadi gives you a meek smile.

“I’m not,” Abbot interjects, “That was baptism by fire, baby.” He lifts his drink up.

“I can pretty much guarantee you the next one will be easier.” Robby tries to be reassuring.

You nod in agreement before speaking up, “I promise you it’s not always as bad as today was.”

“I really fucking hope so.” She jokes but you can tell she means it.

Before anyone could say anything, sirens echoed through the park. Your anxiety spikes and the group all turns to see what’s happening. Robby tenses up at the sounds and stands up. He knew he couldn’t stay longer. He looks down at you. “Well, I’m going to call it a night. Please, everyone get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day.”

You stand up with him, “I'm gonna head out too,” you give everyone a smile, “Have a good night everyone.”

A bunch of good nights and smiles were given in return.

“I’ll walk you home,” Robby says in front of the group to you. You nod knowing you’re probably just going to his place. He grabs one more beer for the walk.

The two of you began walking to his place. Robby reaches for your hand as you walk into the night. The two of you enjoy the silence, listening to the sounds of the city.

As the two of you reach the end of the park, Robby speaks up, “You sure you’re feeling ok?”

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow, “You’re asking me that?” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Normally you have a beer or two at the end of the night.”

Your feet come to a stop and Robby looks at you. He has a concerned look and you debate on just letting it out.

“Is it a bad time to say I’m pregnant?” You blurt out with a nervous laugh looking up at him.

His eyes widen. You begin to panic, blabbing out apologies.

He cuts you off, “Are you serious? Like you’re not joking right now?”

You shake your head and continue to babble, “I’ve known for a few weeks now. I’m about 11 weeks I think. I-I just didn’t know when to tell you.”

For the second time that night, Robby drops his backpack. With the biggest grin, he lifts you off your feet causing you to squeal in surprise.

He lets you back down before cupping your face and giving you a heated kiss. You hold onto him as you kiss back him immediately.

You smile into the kiss before pulling away, sudden tears filling your eyes. “I love you so much.”

He kisses your tears away, before looking down at your stomach. He gently places his hand on it and smiles. “I love you too.”

You lean up and give him another kiss, “I don’t need peace, I just need you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re totally together, right?” Princess asks the group but it’s pointed at Abbot.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Abbot says with a smirk before taking a sip of his beer.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆 ☞ ♥•♥•♥•

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader | Viltrumite!Mark x f!Reader | Sinister!Mark x f!Reader | No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x f!Reader | Omni!Mark x f!Reader | Shiesty!Mark x f!Reader | Mohawk!Mark x f!Reader

Warnings: Umm there’s a mention of Lensless making his dick jump LMAO but that’s it

Tags: Fluff, comedy, romance, just cute silliness – you get the vibe

Word Count: uhhh the whole thing’s 3,236 but each part for all the variants is between 350-650

Synopsis: It’s so nice to have a superhuman boyfriend who relishes in the idea of you being so weak and helpless, he does EVERYTHING for you. Except, also, sometimes it’s kind of annoying and you just want to do things on your own. So when he’s gone on a mission that’s supposed to last a few days? You plan to take FULL advantage. Only, he comes back sooner than expected…

a/n: man, sorry i’ve been dropping the ball on posting lately. i wasn’t lying when i said losing all my old shit really killed my motivation. BUT i’ve been going dumb reading this comic and bruhhh i’m SHOOK by some of the differences – i digress. i feel myself slowly getting back to my usual grind so pls hang in there with me lovies!!!!

also, Shiesty is DEFINITELY my fav from this series lmaoo

The Set Up...

The thing about being home alone was that it gave you the rare chance to get things done.

No overprotective Viltrumite boyfriend hovering the moment you touched anything over ten pounds. No “babe, let me do it” every time you reached for the step stool. Just peace, music, and the triumphant satisfaction of moving the bookshelf to the wall it should’ve been on this entire time.

You’d nearly gotten it there, too—angled just right, towel under the bottom, scooting it across the floor one slow, squeaky inch at a time.

Main!Mark

You were mid-push, maneuvering the big bookshelf across the floor with a towel under it for glide, when you heard the familiar whoosh of a landing behind you.

“Hey, I’m—whoa.”

You turned around, sheepish but proud. “Hi!”

Mark stood there, mask off, still in his suit, eyes flicking between you and the halfway-moved bookshelf. “Were you… moving that by yourself?”

“Technically yes. But, like, strategically. No lifting. Full physics. Minimum chaos.”

He blinked. “That’s… kind of impressive.”

You beamed. “Thanks!”

He nodded slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, no—super cool. Really cool. Totally capable. Independent. You got this.”

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Me? Yeah. I’m good.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Mark.”

He scuffed his foot across the floor, eyes cast down. “It’s just… you didn’t wait for me.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to help me push furniture around after flying halfway around the world.”

“Still,” he muttered, glancing at the bookshelf. “It’s kind of my thing, y’know? Being helpful. Picking up stuff. Making your life easier. Super strength is kind of… my niche.”

Your chest ached a little. He wasn’t mad—just quietly, adorably bummed. Like a golden retriever watching someone else throw the ball.

So, naturally, you took two steps back, turned just slightly, and just happened to stub your toe on the side of the coffee table.

Loudly.

“OW—oh my god, ow, okay nope, I’m dying,” you yelped, grabbing your foot and hopping in place.

Mark was instantly at your side, arms out. “Wait, what happened?! Are you okay?!”

“Stubbed my toe,” you whimpered. “On the corner. I think it—ohhh nooo it’s broken.”

He crouched in front of you like a concerned EMT. “Which foot?! Can you walk? Want me to carry you to the couch??”

You blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Would you?”

He was already scooping you up, like a knight cradling a wounded princess. “Of course. I’ve got you.”

You let your head fall dramatically against his shoulder, hiding your grin. “My hero.”

He smiled. A real one this time. “You can move bookshelves, sure. But I’m still the toe-stubbing emergency response team.”

You kissed his cheek. “See? Still irreplaceable.”

A pause.

“…You faked that, didn’t you.”

“No comment.”

Viltrumite!Mark

“…Sweetheart?”

You froze.

“Are you… are you moving that? Alone?”

You turned to see Mark standing in the doorway, uniform still on, brow furrowed in a mix of horror and disbelief, like he’d just caught a toddler wielding a chainsaw.

You opened your mouth to explain—but something in his expression gave you pause.

So instead, you took a slow, shaky breath… and rested the back of your hand against your forehead.

“Ohh…” you sighed. “You’re right. That was… so reckless of me.”

He was at your side in a blink.

“[Y/N],” he murmured, already cradling your face in his hands, inspecting you like you might crumble. “You should’ve waited for me. What if you got hurt? That shelf is solid wood.”

“I just… I didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, leaning into the moment. “But I feel so faint now…”

He gently brushed your hair from your face, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You shouldn’t be lifting a finger. Not when I’m here. Let me take care of you.”

You almost felt bad.

…Almost.

Mark pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go sit down. I’ll finish this.”

You gave him your best helpless nod, then flopped dramatically onto the couch as he lifted the bookshelf with one hand and carried it across the room like it was empty.

“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want it?”

You sat up, pointing. “Against that wall, just—yeah, right there. No, wait—actually a little to the left.”

He adjusted.

“Hmm. No, sorry, more to the right.”

Another adjustment.

“Okay, now turn it a bit. Clockwise. No, my clockwise. Yeah, okay—wait, back a bit.”

He tilted his head. “Back? Or back back?”

You squinted. “Like… scooch it. A half scooch.”

He sighed (very soft, very loving), and scooched.

You stared.

“…Okay, I think it’s—wait. Nope. Now it’s too far.”

Mark blinked. “Sweetheart...”

You gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped your head into your hands. “This is why I just wanted to do it myself.”

He chuckled—low and warm—then gently tapped your knee. “And miss out on being treated like royalty? Why deprive yourself of such a treat?”

You smiled softly "Very good point..." Then you paused, glanced at the shelf and looked up at him again. “If I’m royalty, does that mean I can tell you to move it back to where it was?”

His face went stony for a moment, but then was already turning. “Only for you...”

You smiled. “I love you so much.”

Mark was ready to move planets that point.

Sinister!Mark

You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the floor when your body stilled.

The hair on the back of your neck rose. The air shifted. Then you heard his voice. Smooth. Amused.

“…Interesting choice of project.”

Your blood froze. No. There's no way he's already back, is he?

You turned your head slowly, painfully, like a horror movie character about to meet their doom.

There he was. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly red, with the kind of cold smirk that said “so this is how you betray me.”

Without even thinking – no hesitation, zero shame – you let out a gasp, dramatically tripping over the edge of the towel you’d been using to slide the shelf on and falling down in what felt like slow motion.

The entire bookshelf tipped sideways with you, crashing to the floor with a thunderous BOOM.

Books everywhere. You sprawled in the wreckage like a tragic Victorian heroine struck down by an airborne piano.

“OHHH NOOOO!” you wailed, arm flung across your face. “Why did I think I could do this alone?! I was so foolish! I was so fragile!”

Mark was in front of you before the dust even settled, crouched low, eyes narrowed as he looked over the scene. Not at the bookshelf. Not at the mess.

At you.

You peeked between your fingers. “Is it bad? Am I concussed? Paralyzed?”

He tilted his head. “You’re not hurt.”

“I’m emotionally hurt.”

“You don’t have a scratch on you.”

You whimpered. “But what if I had? I—I thought I was strong enough, but I’m just a weak little thing, aren’t I?”

He leaned in close, his tone syrupy and sharp. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

You gave a broken little sigh. “You were right. You were so right. It was arrogant of me to think I could do things on my own.”

Mark finally smirked something deep and you felt a wave of relief rush through you. “Well. At least you’ve learned something today.”

He gently lifted you into his arms, stepping over fallen books like they were debris after an explosion. “You won’t be lifting so much as a fork without my help from now on.”

You clung to him like a damsel in distress. “Oh nooo, what a shame.”

He paused at the doorway and looked down at you.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” he asked, voice suddenly low and flat. “Because you know I’ll find out.”

You blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Mark. My bookshelf fell on me. I’m lucky to be alive.”

His eyes searched your face for a long, unnerving moment… then he smirked again. Kissed your forehead.

“Good girl.”

You sighed dramatically, burying your face in his chest as he floated you off to the couch.

Another day, another tragedy avoided. Except for your bookshelf, you supposed...

No Goggles/Lensless!Mark

You were really just starting to make progress on the move when you heard it.

Click.

Thud.

“Hey,” Mark said casually, suddenly perched on top the bookshelf and looking down at you with a lazy grin. “Didn't realize you were this strong, babe. You ever think about joining the Viltrumite army?”

“Wha—Mark!” you gasped, heart racing just a bit. “W-What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just watching you work, babe! Gotta say—I’m impressed. Keep going. Show me whatcha got.”

You flushed a bit. “…But you’re sitting on it.”

Mark gave you a dramatic blink. “Yeah, and? I mean look at you! You’re so strooong, move it with me on it.”

“Mark...”

“C’mon!” He kicked his feet a little. “Let’s see that strength. I’ll just stay here and supervise.”

“…Can you get off please?”

“Nope. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

You furrowed your brows, pouting for a bit. “Alright. Fine.” You braced yourself and tried to nudge the bookshelf forward, only for it to not move an inch under the added weight of your lovely, idiotic boyfriend.

He grinned even wider. “Aww, is the strong woman struggling?”

You scowled, leaning back off the piece of furniture. “I can’t do it with you on it. Get off.”

“Nah, I’m comfy.” He shrugged. “But if you really need help, I guess I could show you how it’s done.”

Before you could say anything, he jumped down and scooped you up in one smooth motion, plopping you onhis shoulder like you were a prize.

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he says with a sigh. “I got this.” He reached over with one hand and picked the bookshelf up like it was a cardboard box.

“Wait, but—I didn’t even tell you where to put it!”

He grinned as he moved it toward the far corner of the room. “Right here’s perfect.”

“Noo, I wanted it on that wall.”

“Ehh, I’m feeling this spot more. Looks better, don’t you think?”

“Mark, I’m serious, that’s not—”

“You’ll love it,” he said with a laugh, already walking away from it and towards the sofa. “Trust me. I’ve got an eye for these things.”

You thought about arguing but stopped yourself short, realizing there was no point. He wasn’t even listening.

Mark kicked the couch aside with a careless boot and dropped down into the cushions like a king on his throne, moving you smoothly to straddle his waist. His grin was wide and feral, hair a little messy, pupils blown.

He looked very pleased with himself.

“Yup,” he said, hands sliding to your hips, smug as hell. “Pretty strong, babe. Got, like... crazy stats.”

You couldn’t help but look a bit amused. “….Stats?”

“Oh, you know,” he said casually, voice dropping as his eyes dragged slowly over your body. “Strength. Speed. Stamina. Core control.”

You bit back a smile.

“Wanna see what else I can do?” he grinned, and didn’t wait to hear your answer. You suddenly became very aware of the repeated tapping between your thighs.

He was making his dick jump.

You choked.

“Mark!”

Omni!Mark

You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the living room when his voice cut through the space like a blade.

“You shouldn’t be doing that.”

You froze, hands still on the edge of the shelf. “Jesus—Mark?”

He stepped into view from the hallway, calm and unreadable, but his gaze was locked on your hands. On the effort. On your shoulders straining beneath your t-shirt.

“I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow,” you said, breath catching just slightly.

He said nothing to that. Just looked down at the shelf. Then back at you.

“I’m fine,” you offered, trying to keep your tone light. “Promise this might come as a surprise, but humans move furniture all the time. There’s a whole job field for it, actually. Movers. Crazy, right?”

The corner of his mouth twitched downward. Clearly not amused.

“I know you’re capable,” he said, stepping closer. His voice dropped a little. “Of more than you’ll ever give yourself credit for.” You blinked. “But this?” His gaze flicked to the shelf again. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Not with your hands.”

“My hands are fine.”

He reached out and gently took your palm in his — and suddenly, the shelf didn’t exist anymore. The room didn’t exist. Just his fingers wrapping around yours, warm and impossibly careful.

“These hands,” he said, brushing his thumb along your knuckles, “shouldn’t be calloused from dragging wood and steel. They should stay soft.”

You opened your mouth — probably to argue, maybe to scoff — but no words came out. Just heat. Everywhere.

“I don’t protect you because I think you’re weak,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I protect you because I can. Because you’re the only softness in a world that doesn’t deserve it.”

And just like that, you were putty. Your entire body went slack under his gaze, your throat thick, breath gone. Your fingers curled a little tighter into his without even meaning to.

“…You’re not playing fair,” you whispered.

His other hand lifted to your face, thumb brushing just under your cheekbone.

“I never said I was fair,” he said quietly. “Only that you’re mine.”

You nodded, helplessly. Of course. Obviously.

And when he leaned down to kiss you — slow, reverent, like you were something holy — you realized the bookshelf could stay exactly where it was.

Forever, even.

Didn’t matter anymore.

Shiesty!Mark

The bookshelf barely budged as you leaned your weight into it with a frustrated grunt. You were so close to getting it where you wanted it.

“You tryna remodel or build muscle, bae?”

You froze at the very familiar but very unexpected voice.

Mark stood in the doorway, one brow raised, smirking like he’d walked in on you cheating with another man — who just so happened to be made of plywood and frustration.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you said, trying not to sound as guilty as you felt.

“Clearly,” he said, strolling in like he owned the floor (and the ceiling, and probably you). “You out here grinding furniture across the floor like a damn forklift. Did I miss the call for backup?”

You sighed. “It’s not that heavy. I’ve almost got it.”

Mark leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a man enjoying premium entertainment. “Oh no, go on. Don’t let me stop you. I love a strong woman. Grrr,” he teased, flexing his bicep in mock solidarity.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the shelf. “It’s just gotta slide like three more inches—”

“Oh you tryna get precise with it,” he cut in. “Okay, okay, I see you. Interior design. Feng shui. Heavy lifting. Very sexy of you.”

“I swear to God, Mark—” Before you could finish, he was already behind you.

“I got it,” he said, voice suddenly softer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t hurt yourself, pretty.”

You stepped aside reluctantly as he crouched, rolled his shoulders back, and—because of course he did—lifted the bookshelf with one hand.

You blinked. “Did you... just curl it?”

He grinned, looking at you over his shoulder. “You like that? That was rep one. Want me to rack up a few sets? Maybe do a little shoulder press while you admire the view?”

“Mark.”

“Say it again like that and I’ll drop this bookshelf just to carry you to the bedroom instead.”

You would’ve choked if you’d been drinking something.

He moved the shelf exactly where you’d wanted it, then turned and leaned in close, mouth brushing yours. “See? I do listen. Sometimes.”

You melted. A little. Maybe a lot.

“So,” he said casually, already lifting you like a backpack, “wanna rearrange anything else while I’m warmed up? Your guts, maybe?”

“Mark!”

“Babe, I’m just tryna be helpful.”

Mohawk!Mark

You braced both feet against the floor, gave the bookshelf one last stubborn shove, and managed to move it a grand total of two inches.

You stepped back, breathing heavy, hands on your hips.

“Gotta ask,” came a gravel-rough voice behind you, “you movin’ that thing for fun or outta spite?”

You jumped. “Jesus—Mark! Warn a girl!”

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, suit already halfway unzipped and his hair looking a little messier than usual.

“You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Clearly,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling in with that easy, heavy gait. “Figured I’d come home and find you curled up on the couch. Not out here goin’ to war with a damn bookcase.”

“I wasn’t—I am perfectly capable, thank you.”

“Sure you are,” he said, like he was humoring a toddler insisting they could drive.

“I am!”

He stopped in front of you, looking down at your flushed face and dirt-smudged palms. His gaze dropped to your hands, then back up to your eyes.

“Babe,” he said, voice lower now, quieter. “You don’t gotta play tug-of-war with your furniture every time I’m not in the room. You miss me? Call me. I’ll fly in, carry you and the couch if you need.”

You opened your mouth as if intending to explain your reasoning, but he was already moving. Already crouching. Already sliding one hand beneath the bookshelf like it weighed nothing.

With a casual exhale, he lifted it off the ground and nodded toward the other wall.

“Point where you want it.”

You furled in your lower lip, trying to ignore how hot this was. “...There,” you mumbled.

He walked it over. No strain. No effort. Just raw, grounded strength like it was part of his muscle memory now.

He set it down exactly where you needed it before turning to you again, rubbing sorely at the back of his neck.

“You good now?” he asked. “You wrestled the inanimate object. I showed up to finish the job. Domestic bliss achieved?”

You smiled, trying not to laugh. “I’m good. Thanks.”

He gave you that familiar crooked smile. “Next time just call,” he muttered. “You think I won’t drop a whole planetary threat just to come move furniture? Priorities.”

You snorted. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He stepped a little closer, lifting your chin with two fingers. “You’re never a bother,” he said, voice just slightly softer now. “Maybe a bad decision, sometimes. But never a bother.”

You were biting hard into your bottom lip at this point, really trying to hold back your smile.

“…Bet you want me to carry you around now, too?” he asked, already bending to hook an arm under your thighs.

All you could do was squeal and giggle as he hoisted you up bridal-style, with a dramatic grunt that was absolutely just for show.

“There we go,” he muttered, planting a kiss on your temple. “Soft hands, remember? You keep ‘em pretty. I’ll do the heavy lifting. And the thinking. And the rescuing. You? You just sit there and look smug.”

You melted into his chest with a sigh. “Well, I was doing just fine before you showed up.”

He snorted as he lowered onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. “Yeah, you moved it a whole two inches. Might as well call NASA.”

You leaned back slightly, lips twitching. “I did move it though.”

He gave you a slow, unimpressed blink.

Then muttered, “You want a trophy or a chiropractic bill?”

You laughed—loud and warm—and when he leaned in to kiss you again, you didn’t even mind the dirt smudge still on your hands.

[storiesaplenty]

Miscellaneous Masterlist

Part 2

Part 1 can be found here.

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: unprotected sex. P in V. Oral (f receiving. Mentions past pj). Murder (but nothing descriptive) Reader is a bit naive due to a sheltered upbringing.

WC : 1294

©️ storiesaplenty 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

I stood at the edge of her property, waiting for her to leave her small home.

I have been there since the sun set, waiting for her.

I could hear her father screaming at her, asking her where she has been the last few weeks.

I could hear timidity telling him that she has been outside, enjoying the sunset and the peace and quiet.

I wanted to know one the door and tell her fat fuck of a father that his precious daughter has had my cock down her throat and that she swallowed my cum.

I wanted to thank him for not teaching her anything, and she was so easy to corrupt with a few simple praises.

Then, I would kill him, or let her do it when I finally turn her, which I am hoping is tonight

"There is a boy out there, isn't there?"

I heard her mother gasp at the accusation her father threw out there.

"No, there is no boy! I am enjoying the sunset. We never had this back home due to the smoke from the factories." Oh, how my sweet girl lied to her parents.

"I just know that there is someone waiting outside." At the moment, I saw him pull the curtain back and look around, trying to catch me, but I was standing too far back for him to notice me in the darkness.

"Please father. Tonight I will stay inside."

I zoned out what he said, but I knew she would be meeting me outside tonight.

◇

She waited until everyone was asleep as she snuck outside the home.

I held up the lantern as she walked closer to me.

She was wearing a satin nightgown, and I could see that she was wearing nothing else.

"I am sorry Remmick."

"It is okay darlin'. I could hear you and your father fighting. It is okay." I said as I pulled her into my arms, kissing her.

Her hands gripped my shoulders as the kiss became more and more heated.

"I can't stay out here much longer. We are going to church in a couple of hours." She said against my lips, as I lowered us to the ground.

"Mmm, how about I worship you before you kneel before that man in the sky." I said as I broke the kiss, kissing down her neck, wanting nothing more than to bite her right now, but I wanted her first, just as she is before I make her mine forever.

My teeth nipped at her skin, making sure not to break it as I didn't want to draw any blood.

"Remmick, I don't think we should go any further." Her words made me halt.

I pulled my head back to look into her eyes, placing my hand on her knee. I heard her take a deep breath.

"Do not listen to your old man. You and I belong together." I nudged my nose against hers as my hand that was on her knee slowly started to slide up her leg.

"But Remmick,"

"Shhhh. Let me make you feel good, like how you made me feel good yesterday." Her legs spread a bit more as my hand went further.

"I'm not sure." She gasped as my hand made contact with her pussy. I groaned at how wet she was already.

I pushed one finger inside, swearing under my breath at how tight she feels with only one finger pushed inside of her.

"You sure about that darlin'?" I questioned as I gently started to finger her.

"Just relax and lay down, and let old Remmick take care of you." She giggled when I called myself old, as she did as I asked.

She has no idea what she is in for tonight.

◇

Her hands gripped the top of my head as I pulled another orgasm from her body as I ate her out, moaning at the taste of her on my lips.

My face soaked with her juices.

Her legs shaking around my head as I had her legs thrown over my shoulders.

"I think you are ready for me now." I told her as I sat back on my knees, pulling down my suspenders, and my pants, just enough to free my hard, aching cock.

I wrapped her still shaking legs around my waist, my cock gripped firmly in my hand as I placed it at the entrance to her pussy.

"Hold on to me darlin'. If there is any pain, you can bite me, I can take the pain."

With one nod of her head I pushed just the tip in, watching as her mouth fell open at the slow, burning stretch.

I saw the discomfort on her face and kissed her temple, muttering how well she was taking me.

The moment I was fully inside, I looked up, swearing in my head at how fucking good she feels.

I didn't move, not wanting to hurt her, and lose her trust.

"Remmick, you can move." I looked down at her, making sure she wasn't lying to me.

"You sure?" One nod of head, and I slowly pulled my hips back, leaving just the tip in.

I thrust back in her pussy, and her back arched off the ground, moaning loudly, but definitely not in any pain.

Her moans of pleasure was like music to my ears.

"Oh we are going to have fun tonight." I groaned through clenched teeth as I pulled my hips back again, before thrusting back into her, with slow, deliberate thrusts until I sped up my pace.

◇

I covered her mouth with my hand as I fucked her like my life depended on it. Her noises of pleasure getting louder and louder, until I had to cover her mouth with my hand.

Her back was flushed against my chest as fucked her from behind.

Her juices have soaked my thighs.

Her body was covered in sweat.

Her ass most likely sore from my brutal pace as I slammed off of her ass over and over again.

"Remmick." I heard her whine against my hand.

"Feel so good, darlin'." I moved my hand from her mouth, wanting to hear her.

"Could make you feel like this every damn day. Would you like that." I groaned into her ear.

"Yes, oh yes Remmick." She cried out as she came one last time, her pussy clenched around my cock so tight, I swear she was trying to strangle it.

I took that moment to do what I have want to do for so long.

I opened my mouth, my fangs coming out, biting into the back of her shoulder just as I came.

I covered her mouth just as she screamed.

I let her blood flow into my mouth and down my chin as I filled her pussy with my cum.

I pulled back to look at my handy work on the bite. Kissing it one last time before letting her collapse onto the grass below us.

I pulled out of her pussy, groaning at the sight of my cum leaking out of her well used pussy.

"That's it darlin'. We are together forever now." I told her as I smoothed down her hair.

It didn't take long for her to wake up to her new life.

I heard her mom calling for her to come in, as she was in deep trouble.

"And which ever boy is out there with her, can come in too."

I held out my hand, which she gladly took.

"Ready to eat my love?"

"Yes. I am starving."

"Ladies first."

The screams and then the silence of her dead family members was like music to my ears.

I cupped her bloody face, kissing her.

"Welcome to your new life, my love."

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[saeist]

a/n: alternate universe where touya didn't go insane and goes to UA :] dedicated to the loml @saerins cus we're on our touya brainrot + went a little insane with this instead...

"jesus doll, excited now are we?" touya muses, a smirk on his lips as he lets you push him inside your small and cramped bathroom.

rolling your eyes, you motioned him to sit down on the toilet lid while you prepare the shower. making sure the water is just the right temperature or else you might burn touya's head off when you rinse the hairdye off his hair

"is this the part where you remove your shirt and i suck on a titty?" touya says more of a statement rather than a cheeky question. you stop yourself from hitting the boy that has his signature lopsided smirk with the shower head you were currently holding

with an exasperated sigh and a pinch to your nose bridge, you answer him

"just shut up for once, touya. besides, won't your dad kill you if he found out you're dying your hair black? or did you forget that he almost kicked you out of the house when he saw your piercings for the first time?" you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend who decided at the last minute to dye his hair as a sign of "rebellion against his "uptight, stick far up his ass dad" his words, not yours

"he can manage" touya huffs, scoffing at the memory of his dad yelling at him for acting and starting to look like a good for nothing delinquent or in endeavour's words, a villain. "it's not like it's my duty to keep our image of a "perfect family". if only the rest of the world knew what its like to have endeavor as your deadbeat dad!"

touya and endeavour never really got a long per say.. at least that's what touya tells you whenever he had a shit day training with endeavor. days where he would train with his dad were usually days where he'd opt to spend the night at your dorm. away from all the chaos inside the todoroki estate that he unfortunately refers to as his home

but to touya, at the end of the day, you are his home. his peace, his serenity, his anchor in this world where hell could break loose at any given moment

"don't give me that look, doll" touya sighs, shoulders dropping when he noticed you were staring at him.

"i just don't want to see you hurt all over again. you almost gave me a heart attack that one time when you showed up here unannounced" you pout, letting touya slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

touya’s arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “i can handle the old man. it’s his problem if he can’t accept me for who i am,” he mutters, resting his forehead against your stomach

"i mean, he already stopped giving a shit when he realized i can't withstand my flames, so who am i to give a shit back after everything he did to me?" touya continues, his grip tightening

you run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the warmth of his presence. “shhh, we already talked about this" you shush him, "all i'm saying is that i just want you to be safe, touya. i can’t stand seeing you hurt,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry.

he looks up at you, his usual smirk replaced with a rare, sincere expression. “i know, doll. i know." touya presses light kisses on your stomach, "but I have to be true to myself, even if it means pissing off endeavor” he chuckles, the pads of his thumb rubbing circles on your exposed skin

you both stay in that position in silence for a bit. just finding comfort with each other's presence. just the way touya likes it. nice and quiet. a contrast to his daily hellish life back at his own home

that is until touya starts to feel his scalp burn a little

"okay fun time's over, doll. my scalp's startin' to kill me here" touya shudders, slowly unwrapping his arms around you as he reaches for the shower head in your hand.

you stifle in your laughter watching him make a fuss inside your cramped bathroom.

that is until, you remembered that your bathroom tiles were pearly white and if he's rinsing off black hairdye then–

"TOUYA MY TILES!" you let out a screech

"too late, doll" touya pokes his tongue out at you, hair dye getting all over your walls and cold tiles.

you were gonna pay one hefty fine if you don't clean this shit up as soon as possible.

now, touya sits on your bed. drying his freshly dyed jet black hair with a towel and you're not even gonna lie to yourself. he looked a little too good for your liking. touya has always been a looker himself but with this new hairdo.. oh lord

"why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?" touya chuckles, hanging the now stained towel around his neck as he leans back on your bed with his elbows propped. he was giving you bedroom eyes, quite literally and figuratively.

what a tease!

"nothing. just making sure that i'm still talking to touya and not his emo alter ego dabi" you mused, plopping down on your bed next to him.

touya laughs at your comment. eyes turning into crescent moons

“thanks for everything, y/n,” touya says softly, voice full of genuine love and appreciation.

your heart swells at the sight of touya like this. you would move mountains if you could just to see touya– your touya happy.

"i love you, touya" you lean in for a kiss. to which touya happily returns the favor.

"i love you more than life, doll." touya smiles lazily against the kiss, cranking his neck to the side for more access as he deepens the kiss.

moments like these with you is when touya feels like he's on top of the world and he hopes it will forever stay like this cause to touya, he can face anything the world throws at him when he knows you'll be there right by his side

[hancorys]

h.ts — you bleed, i break

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes pairing: underground boxer!taesan x afab!reader wc: 1153 warning: mentions of physical violence, blood/injuries (cuts, bruises, stitches), emotional distress, fear of loss, mild codependency themes, hurt/comfort dynamic listen: no. 1 party anthem — arctic monkeys

it always starts the same way.

a knock at the door — not loud, not urgent, just... familiar. three soft taps, spaced apart, like he’s giving you time to prepare for what you’ll see when you open it.

you never are.

you swing the door open and there he is — bruised, bleeding, barely standing. he tries to smile, but it tugs at a split lip, and you immediately step aside to let him in, your heart slamming against your ribs like it wants to escape the moment before it breaks.

“don’t say anything yet,” he says, voice rough. “let me shower. i’ll be easier to look at after.”

you don't answer. you just nod, throat tight, and grab a towel while he drags himself toward the bathroom.

you hate this part — the waiting. the sound of the water running as it washes away blood you didn’t get a chance to clean. the way your hands shake as you lay out gauze and antiseptic and stitch kits like it’s routine. like you haven’t cried over this exact setup more times than you can count.

he steps out fifteen minutes later, hair dripping, body clean but riddled with fresh bruises. a deep purple welt blooms across his ribs, and there’s a long, angry gash above his eyebrow that still seeps a little blood. he's got a towel around his waist and tired eyes locked on yours.

“sit,” you say, voice flat, pointing to the bathroom counter. you’re too tired to yell. too scared to fall apart.

he obeys.

you press a clean cloth to his wound, just a little too firmly. he winces but doesn’t move away.

“you’re gonna get yourself killed one day,” you say. your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to. smaller.

“i’ve had worse,” he mutters.

your hands freeze.

"that’s not the point, tae.”

he sighs. “i know.”

“no, you don’t. because if you did, you wouldn’t keep doing this. you wouldn’t come home every other night with new wounds and old ones ripped open again. you wouldn’t keep making me wonder if the next time the door knocks... it’ll be someone else telling me you didn’t make it.”

the words hang heavy in the air, thick and shaking. he stays silent.

you bite the inside of your cheek to stop it from trembling. you dab at his brow, slower this time, careful. “you don’t have to break yourself to be enough.”

he looks down at his hands. his knuckles are torn open — fresh from tonight. “it’s all i know. fighting… it gives me something. i feel like myself in the ring. it’s the only place i know who i am.”

“and who are you when you’re not bleeding?”

he looks up, startled by your question.

you’re not angry anymore. just aching. tired in a way that sleep won’t fix.

“when you’re here,” you say, voice soft, “with me… who are you then?”

he stares at you, chest rising and falling unevenly. “i’m yours.”

you nod slowly. “then act like it. stay. stop choosing pain over peace. stop making me watch you fall apart just so you can feel whole for a few minutes in a ring.”

“i can’t just walk away from it—”

“i’m not asking you to quit,” you say quickly. “i’m asking you to survive.”

he looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't. instead, he lets you tend to him — your fingers gentle now as you clean the gash and close it with small, precise stitches. you dab antiseptic over his knuckles, wrap them carefully, and by the time you’re done, your hands have stopped shaking.

but your heart hasn’t.

“you don’t have to do this alone,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. “you don’t have to keep hurting just to prove something.”

his hand reaches out, shaky and hesitant, and finds yours.

“i’m scared,” he admits.

“of what?”

“of being nothing if i’m not fighting.”

you step between his legs, cradle his jaw with both hands, and lean your forehead against his. “you’ll never be nothing. not to me.”

he pulls you into him like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. your arms wrap around his neck as his settle on your waist, and suddenly it’s too much — the fear, the relief, the way he still smells like blood and sweat and safety.

you kiss him — soft, slow, like you're stitching him back together with your lips. it’s not rushed, not desperate, just… tender. the kind of kiss that says i see you. all of you. and i’m still here.

your lips brush against his once, twice, a gentle question, and when he kisses you back, it’s like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. like he’s been starved for something only you can give. his hands tighten at your waist, not to pull you closer — you’re already as close as you can be — but to ground himself, like the feel of you is the only thing tethering him to this world.

his breath shudders against your cheek, and your thumb traces the line of his jaw, careful not to press against any bruises. his skin is warm beneath your fingers, flushed from the shower, from the fight, from you.

you feel it in the way his lips linger — how they tremble just a little when you deepen the kiss, how he sighs softly into your mouth like he’s finally letting go of everything he’s been holding in.

your fingers slide into his hair, still damp, and he tilts his head just enough for the kiss to deepen, mouths moving together in a quiet, aching rhythm. it’s not about passion, not really — it’s about presence. about showing him that he’s more than the blood, the pain, the fight.

when you pull back, just a breath away, his forehead stays pressed to yours. his eyes are closed, lashes damp, and he looks so young like this. like the boy underneath all the bruises is still learning how to be loved.

you press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the cut above his brow. “you’re okay,” you whisper between each kiss. “you’re here. you’re home.”

his hands cup your face then, rough knuckles brushing your skin so delicately it makes your chest ache. he opens his eyes and looks at you like he’s never seen you before — or maybe like he’s finally seeing you the way you’ve always seen him.

“don’t go,” he whispers.

you lean in again, pressing your lips to his in an answer. slow, certain, full of every silent promise you’ve ever made him.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you breathe. “not as long as you keep coming back to me.”

and in that moment, with bruises still darkening and your hands still stained from cleaning his wounds, he feels whole — not because he’s healed, but because you’ve made space for every broken part of him.

© hancorys, 2025.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“I kind of hate all this self-improvement talk. You know…all that ‘forgiving others’ and finding peace and all.” The villain shrugged gently and averted their eyes. Away from the hero. Away from that broken form, that torn skin and the broken bones. They needed a second. “I…hold grudges. A lot. It’s unhealthy, everyone says so at least.”

The hero’s breath was raspy. Wet, even. No doubt, their lungs were filling up with blood. And yet, their eyes were pinned on the villain.

“And everyone knows better, don’t they?”

A gurgle as answer.

The villain sighed.

“Everyone around me says I have to let go of others, especially those who hurt me in the past.” The villain lowered their voice and kneeled next to their nemesis. This time, they actually stared at the wounds, observed the blood. “But whenever I meet someone, they etch themselves into my soul. That’s not my fault now, is it?”

They touched the hero’s throat gently and the hero - who was choking on their own blood - that suffering and poor hero was finally able to close their eyes and breathe again.

“Maybe that’s why I loathe you so much. You did it so gracefully. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. One day you just showed up and demanded a place in my life.”

They clicked their tongue and let their hand move over the hero’s battered body, slowly letting their powers flow through them. Killing the hero would have been the smartest decision.

But when it came to the hero, the villain was never rational.

They touched the wounds and slowly, blood was drawn back into the hero’s body and their muscles, their skin weaved itself back together like fabric.

“I did all that stuff everyone else does; blaming myself, shaming myself, hating myself whenever I made a mistake. I’m thinking about what I have done in the past constantly. I’m thinking about all my flaws, about everything that makes me so despicable. It never goes away. I don’t know peace.” They took in a deep shaky breath. Their voice was breaking. “I know it’s pathetic.”

The villain was done with the hero’s torso now and felt themselves grow weaker. The hero had been close to death and the villain was by no means someone who could bring back the dead.

Nevertheless, they concentrated and continued their work on the hero’s broken knee.

“You talked about being imperfect last week, that’s why I’m saying all this…I don’t know if it’s just us. But I believe at some point, everyone thinks they’re not enough. Or a horrible person. So…if that makes us human, the mere idea of perfection has to be a human concept as well. Which means it’s just in our heads and not real.”

The villain smiled softly when they finished. They could feel the weariness of their muscles, the pain in their eyelids. Healing someone else requires energy. A lot of energy.

And since the villain was directly using their own energy, they were exhausted.

“I disagree,” the hero whispered. Their eyes were still closed. “But I understand what you mean.”

They took the villain’s hand and squeezed gently. The villain would have been flustered if they hadn’t been this terribly tired.

“You’re giving others too much power over yourself. You’ve never let that happen in combat, so why should it happen in your head? All those thoughts are real, real enough to control you.”

“I like you better when your mouth is closed,” the villain said. They let out another shaky breath and moved slowly; turned around and laid down next to the hero.

“Hm.” They could hear the hero smile. “Thank god I etched myself into your soul, then. You’re not getting rid of me, darling.”

“Hm.” The villain closed their eyes, falling asleep on the hard and uncomfortable concrete within a few seconds.

Hand in hand with the hero.

[rodentluvrr]

A dose of care

Pairing: Law x reader

Summary: You have a habit of forgetting to take your thyroid pill in the mornings, much to Law’s frustration. As a doctor, he knows how important it is, and he makes it his personal mission to ensure you never miss a dose—whether you like it or not.

CW: none, I think

Word count: 400 words

A/N: inspired from my own experiences 💀I always forget to take my thyroid pill

The moment you stir awake in the dim light of the submarine’s cabin, you feel Law’s steady warmth beside you. His arms are wrapped around you, holding you close beneath the blankets. You sigh contentedly, nuzzling into his chest as his fingers gently trace circles on your back.

For a while, there is only the quiet rhythm of your breathing and the soft hum of the ship around you. He presses a sleepy kiss against your forehead, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "Mmm… stay like this a little longer," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

You smile, letting the warmth of his presence lull you into a peaceful haze. Minutes pass in comfortable silence before Law shifts slightly, his fingers idly skimming over your arm. Then, his movements still. His brows furrow as his eyes slowly open, and you can almost see the gears turning in his mind. He stiffens just slightly.

Then, in a low but firm voice, he asks, "Did you take it yet?"

You roll your eyes and snuggle deeper into his chest. "It’s too early for this," you mumble, attempting to evade the question.

His grip tightens. "That’s not an answer."

"I’ll take it later," you huff, trying to shift away, but he doesn’t let you go.

"That’s what you said last time." His tone is strict, his patience thinning. "And the time before that."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "It’s just one pill. Missing one day won’t kill me."

"That’s not the point." His voice sharpens, and he pulls the blanket down slightly, forcing you to look at him. "I’ve told you before how important it is. You can’t just forget. Your body relies on it."

"I’m not a kid, Law!" you snap, irritation flaring in your chest. "I can handle myself."

His golden eyes darken with frustration, but there’s something else in them, something softer. Concern. "Then prove it," he challenges. "Take it now."

You cross your arms, stubbornly refusing to move. "I’ll do it in a bit."

"No, you’ll do it now." His voice leaves no room for argument. "Or I swear, I’ll get up and shove it in your mouth myself."

You glare at him, but he doesn’t waver. The stare-down lasts a few tense seconds before you groan dramatically. "Fine!" You grab the pill bottle from the bedside table with exaggerated annoyance and pop the pill into your mouth, swallowing it without water just to prove a point.

Law watches you the entire time, only relaxing when he’s sure you’ve taken it. "Good," he murmurs, pulling you back into his arms. "Now you can go back to being a brat under the covers."

You grumble but let yourself be held, secretly enjoying the warmth of his embrace. Even when he’s strict, even when he’s scolding you—he cares. And that makes all the difference.

[zanazirafanfic]

What Charles Would Do To Micah

I sent @noshirdalal the following question on Cameo: "Since Charles was denied the chance to flatten Micah's face in the Epilogue, I would love to see him roast the hell out of the rat. Be as mean as you would like. (All in good fun, Micah is my favorite villain and I love Peter too.) Happy holidays!"

This was his response (transcript below the video.) Y'ALL. I was not ready for how amazing this was. Rather than roast Micah, he opted to burn him to a crisp and scatter the ashes. Very cathartic. It is very, very lucky for Micah that Charles wasn't up there on the summit beside John, because neither Micah nor Dutch would've even been able to open their mouths before it was just over.

PERFECT. Poignant. Believable as hell. As much as Charles cautions John against seeking vengeance on Micah, I don't think he'd reserve any of that same caution for himself. I think, like Sadie and Arthur, he considers himself more ghost than man. In another universe (where John didn't have to make a decision that would lead the Pinkertons to kidnap his family in RDR1) I can definitely see Charles and/or Sadie striking out on their own to take down Micah. John had more to lose, and Charles wouldn't (and didn't) want him risking himself when Arthur's dying wish had been to keep John and his family safe.

Thank you as always, Noshir. Your takes on these questions always exceed anything I'd imagined!

Transcript:

Zana, hey. You always ask interesting questions. "Since Charles never got to beat the crap out of Micah in the Epilogue, how would he roast him?"

I'll always be honest with you guys, so I think, uh... I'll just be as honest as I can be. If at any point in the Epilogue Charles encountered Micah, there would be no roast. There'd be no jokes, there'd be no games. He killed my best friend, and broke apart the only family I've ever had. And maybe that would've happened with or without his push, but he was definitely a big part of it.

I would hunt him. If he tried to go to ground, I would give him no ground to go to. If you're a friend of Micah's and you come to his aid, you are a dead man. If you have family, then at some point you walk off into the woods and disappear and your family never sees you again. But if you're a snake like Micah, well then the... The local sawbones probably rates that they died of fright, or from asphyxiation from the rat feces shoved in their mouths.

It would become known that Micah is hexed, that anyone near him for any period of time comes to a horrible end. And I would keep this up for a long time, until he has absolutely no one. And I would slowly guide him away from civilization and into the wilds.

I would liberate his horse, and then from there on in, he would never get a peaceful night's rest. His fires would always go out in the middle of the night. His food would spoil. He'd hear people at the edge of the campfire but find no one. And I would keep that up until he really started to break.

And then, I'd make myself known, carrying nothing but my bow, arrows, and my hatchet, and we'd play a game of cat and mouse, until he expends all his ammo. And then I would close on him, subdue him, but try not to hurt him. And I would take an arrow and push it between his ribs, and puncture his lung. 

And then I would let him go. And I'd give him bullets. I want him to run, and gasp, and drown on dry land, like my friend. And then I'd watch him waste his rounds trying to keep the wolves away, and let them tear him to pieces. And I'd let him see me watch.

That's what I would do to Micah Bell.

[kimmryokoo]

Why would you love an animal like me? - logan howlet

author: kim ryoko

ao3

masterlist

summary: logan has a nightmare about all the people he has killed in the past and starts to think you deserve to be with someone better than him. luckly, you are there to tell him otherwise.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: feeling of not deserving someone, agnst, comfort, emotional dependence, nightmare/slight insomnia, slightly sub logan

author note: english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry for any grammar mistakes, feel free to correct me. also, i don't know how to feel about this fic, but i hope you like it. and i'm sorry it's short.

A nightmare… again.

But this time, it was different. I din’t dream about the wars; I had a dream about all the people I’ve killed, and God… there where so many.

Maybe I am a monster. An animal, like everyone calls me.

Well, not everybody. She doesn’t call me that. She’s too kind hearted to think that way about anyone; even me. Most times, think I don’t deserve her. That she deserves someone better than me. But she’s always there to tell me I’m wrong. To tell me that I’m actually a kind person that truly deserves to be loved. I want to believe her. I really do. But my mind is always playing these little fucking tricks on me, showing me the bad person everyone knows I am, and I slowly start to believe it’s true again. Why can’t I just live in peace?

If I lived in peace, she could live in peace too. With me.

But why would an animal live in peace?

I wake up, once again, with my claws out and a layer of sweat covering me. I retract my claws, seat up and look to my side. Shit. How can someone be this pretty even when sleeping? And just like that, all those thoughts come running back to me and I feel my heart clench. I know I’m selfish for not letting her go and have the life she deserves with someone better, but I can’t bring myself to let her go. Even in the days where one of us is out on a mission for just 1 hour, my hearts starts to ache from how much I miss her. I wouldn’t survive a single fucking day without her. I move myself a bit to seat at the edge of the bed with my head low. My heart starts beating fast again and with every second that pasts, I feel my insecurities get bigger and bigger. I know I’m fucked up when all I want right now is for the woman sleeping next to me to wake up and kiss and hug all my problems out of me. How could I ever let her go? The only thing I can do is wait for her to grow tired of me like everyone has done after their own time.

I heard the sheets moving behind me and, a few seconds later, I feel two arms wrapping themselves around me, one around my neck and one around my chest, two legs wrapping around my waist and a head snuggling itself to my neck. I smell her scent, the only one that can make me go fucking feral in less than 1 second, and, at the same time, bring me peace no one has ever been able to before.

“Why are you awake? Did you have another nightmare?” she asked and I couldn’t bring myself to answer her so I just nodded. I could only think about how she deserves someone better than an old, murderous, shitty animal.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry…” she said like it was her fault “Is there anything I can do to help you?” her sweet voice making me melt more with each passing seconds, but also hammering my heart more knowing that the person she ends up with is the luckiest person on earth and I would do anything in my power to be them. To respond to her question I just moved my head again signing a ‘no’.

As if she understood this was worst than normal, she got up and put herself standing between my legs, while cupping my face. Even with me sitting, she wasn’t that much taller than me,which is another thing I find cute i her. One of the thousands. She tilted my head slightly so I was looking at her and I almost forgot everything just by looking at her loved-filled eyes. Almost. She pulled me in for a slow and soft kiss and kissed my forehead as soon as she broke it. She then hugged my head thigh against her chest and I let myself finally enjoy the care she was giving me and relax for a moment.

“Why do you love me?”

“What do you mean, Logan?” she asked genuinely confused as if the question I asked was the stupidest thing on earth.

“Why would you love an animal like me?” I repeated.

“Don’t say stuff like that Logan, you know I don’t like it. And to answer you question, I love you because, either you believe it or not, you are the kindest, most loving person I ever met. You always put everyone else before you, even Scott. Every time you see someone struggling, or sad, you do your very best to help them. Even though you put this ‘tough guy’ look on you face everyday, deep down, you care more about people then you know. I love you, Logan, because you are always ready to give your life in exchange for someone else’s, even a total stranger’s. I don’t care about what you believe or not, or what people tell you or not, but you, James Logan Howlet, The Wolverine or whatever you want to call yourself, you will never be the animal they make you think you are.”

Fuck.

With that I held her tighter and my body started to shake. When she noticed it, she held me even closer than before and started to play with my hair and kissing the top of my head. She relished me from her grip to cup my face again and see the fear and sadness in my eyes as we held eye contact.

“I’m sorry… For burdenin’ you with all my shit problems” I said with a shaky voice.

“Oh, baby… You’re no burden and neither are your problems. I’m here to help you with all your problems the same way you are always there to help me with mine. Nobody’s perfect, but we can be better with the help of each other.”

After a long moment of comfortable silence, I start to feel sleepy in her embrace and murmur a small ‘Thank you’ and she kissed the top of my head again in return. She feels me getting sloppier in her arms and gently helps me to get in bed. She then goes to the other side of the bed and hugs me again, pulling me into her arms, burying her face in my hair and playing with the little ones at the nape of my neck and whispering how much she loved me.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I let myself believe in her and think that an animal like me actually deserves love.

Needless to say I slept like a rock for the rest of the night, finally, nightmare free.

Hope you liked it!

xoxo, kim ryoko

[bbrainr0t]

For when you flover VI

Masterlist

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x Greek!woman/reader x Emperor Geta

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, angst, hints of PTSD/bad mental health, imbalance in the relationship (sexism, oppression, misogyni, etc.), toxic/abusive, choking/death threats, alcoholism, sexual/sensual content, mentions of violence, suicide, rape, blood, death, and slavery (sometimes only implied)

Tags: Enemies to lovers (?), slow burn (?), dark romance (?), triangle drama/love (but no incest!!), unhealthy/toxic dynamics, slave x masters, no use of y/n, 1st person narrative, hurt/comfort

Summary: Pulled from a new-found peace, the hellen finds herself in an dramatic confrontation with the sparrow, Geta. She wonders again and again: what are feelings, if not to be felt?

Word count: 3.6K

Dictionary for this chapter:

Nothing! whaaat!

I sit in quiet, wondering and thinking about life and how I ended up like this. Between my legs lay one of the men I am sure that I am destined to kill someday. The man who was responsible for so much pain – and whom I’ve longed to see decay. Yet, I feel no remorse of his touch or how his breath meets my leg like how the wave hits the shore. I try putting sense into the situation by remembering my brother, but no good comes of it. It’s like the agony is erased in this curious second, ticking on by while the emperor sleeps soundly, nested in my embrace. Instead I end up thinking about how this man is a brother as well, and how his brother seemingly cares for his health rather than his own. It’s exactly what alienates them from the description I once let fit their profile; they’re no longer masters of blasphemy and war but humans with flaws; and so am I. Am I foolish for thinking they can change?

Caracalla looks so peaceful as he sleeps. His lips parted just a bit, his eyes relaxed and no longer as puffy and dark as before. He has been nothing but nice to me ever since I arrived – that I must admit. If I am not to accept that they can change then I can at least acknowledge that this one never had the chance to be at all. Scars all over his face and skin shows the true nature of his past as well as destiny. It can be that they say he is mad, but I am slowly starting to think that he is the sanest of them all; at least he is a man true to his word, although they can be demanding.

My hand over his forehead, I catch myself praying for his well-being. A warmth beneath my touch. “Apollon, there is nothing in this world other than you that can help this man, though his past might shows otherwise, I pray that he will show you-“

“Are you praying for my brother?” A cold air slaps my skin so that it shivers. I gulp.

Geta comes to light from behind the bed, his voice jumping ever so slightly off the walls like a haunting ghost. Has he been hiding, watching all along? He settles on the silk furthest away from me and Caracalla. It is like he is afraid to approach as his hands seems unsure crossing the invisible borders between the right and the left side of the bed. There seems to be a thick and uncomfortable silence in between that I can’t quite place. A peace that is although just for the tainted soul upon me.

He can’t attack me with his brother sleeping on me. Is that why he’s not at ease?

I am unsure whether I am allowed to speak or not. So, I nod, somewhat sternly and proud. I must take a stand when I can. I will not deny my submission to the only righteous Gods.

The sparrow merely stares at me, blankly, his shoulders slightly slumped and somewhat weak. It’s only his upper body that is turned towards the two of us, his legs are staying on ground so that I cannot see his feet. For a short moment I see a sadness rush the empty gaze before he turns to let his elbows settle on his knees, his head held by his rigid hands. There’s a cloud forming in the air around him, full of thunder, seemingly a swarm of thoughts, all piercing into the skull. He’s nothing without his strength, without his power. Am I holding his only will? I curl Caracalla’s hair around my finger like a ring.

“I told you not to speak.” Sour is his spit, I am sure. Puncturing is his words to my soul. If only he had heard his brother and how he was happy to hear me speak. Maybe that’ll change his mind. Does that even matter? I am led astray, emphasizing for someone not deserving of it.

The Gods know what they did – but still.

“You will get yourself out of this … distraction… and come to my chamber.” Though he is quite familiar with the tongue of my people, he sometimes speak as if he knows no words at all. I am puzzled by what he means, but I dare not object. Geta puffs and stands up to leave. “You will get what you deserve.” He mumbles as he walks away, evidently drowning in either doubt or gloom.

I realize my heart is beating out of my chest, and that the pit in my stomach has hollowed even further. There’s a ringing in my ear that keeps my thoughts at bay. I feel dizzy, nauseous even. The peace from before long gone.

Am I to leave now? I watch the other brother sigh in his sleep. Surely, he can feel how my legs have started shaking, can he not? I am afraid of what will happen if I don’t get moving now.

I carefully lift Caracalla’s head and pull one leg after the other away, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to wake. Swiftly I find myself on my feet, watching the emperor before me lie still. Something so fragile about how he lays, unprotected and yet salvaged from misery of being awake. I put a pillow beneath his head in hopes that he will continue to fall deeper but softly further into his slumber. For some obscure reason I hope that he rests, knowing no bad will reach him now. What are these thoughts? I pull a blanket over his shoulders.

With a few steps I reach the exit, but I don’t know the way. A purple guard stands on each side. “Follow me.” One walks past me almost like a shadow without grabbing me - a freeing feeling, and oh so intoxicating. No wine to keep my thoughts further away now, only this man and the unearned respect he delivers at my feet. I know not to take it to heart for that would be foolish of me, yet…

Shame bubbles within, slowly filling the whole hole with the tiniest drops of guilt. I think of my people and how I am led to this place and this sudden respect. Their bodies dead, flowing into the sea. The water red. My brothers head. I remember where my loyalties lay. I acknowledge his hospitality, but I wish not to take it heart - but oh...

I enter this new chamber, the purple guard leading me inside, though leaving me to walk alone. I am but a rabbit in an open, unknown field and land of predators – or rather the predator. A stabbing pain grows inside, prickling in the tips of my fingers; all my blood has left my limbs and gone to my head.

Geta stands by a desk, identical to the one inside of Caracalla’s chamber, sipping the same red liquid. His shoulders are rising and falling in a dangerous speed, revealing that there’s a race inside of him. If I just come but an inch closer, perhaps I can hear the beating of his heart, beating in sync with mine. He’s nothing but a man. A sparrow, but surely, he wishes that he was more. He takes in a deep breath like last time except this time no words leave his mouth. I wonder if he has lost them on his way here.

I wish that he was to lose his head – it would make killing him so much easier. His brother’s words are poisoning, misleading from what I can conclude or admit as of right now; I wish not to find out whether his can be as well or not.

“You may speak to me.” He speaks. “Speak.” He commands.

I try to forget what Caracalla told me to do yesterday. And forget how it pains me to try to do so. Remember, I do not care for these tyrants.

“I do not know what you want me to say.” I speak. The words grating my throat. A struggle I didn’t know I would face - wanting to stay quiet, to be a part of the sweet abyss, but forced to practice a right, I forgot I had. Speaking my truth, I dare not to do. What would he do if I did? Does it matter? I forget anyway.

He stays quiet as he places his glass, both hands on the table as he leans forward, relying all his weight on the wooden table. He looks too heavy to carry on his own.

The sparrow drops his cape slowly, and I watch it fall to the floor like a body robbed from life. It loses all color as it reaches the ground, the grace vanished into the air like a soul from a corpse. Suddenly, Geta looks so small.

I need nothing but a knife to spare me from this. Would I take my life or his? I remember my brothers smile. Caracalla’s laugh.

I feel unsteady on my feet. My heart ache. I am weak and that is all that Geta will see, if he just looked. What’s happening in his head? I stand in a shadow where no power yield. I sharpen my words. “You’re just as mad as him.”

At first it seems that he needs to process my words, but then Geta laughs shallowly, his shoulders dropping. He pushes himself up from the table and stand barely upright, his torso tilted to the right as he turns his foot to face me. Never have I seen a man so stellar in his most melancholy attire. Kohl smeared so that he looks as if he never has met the insides of his eyelids, his jaw so tense, and his lips so red. He even looks as if he has been hunting a prey, having teared his teeth into it, tearing muscle from muscle.

I dare chuckle. “You look more a mess than him.” I serve him his own words on a silver platter. If I must die, I will do so with pride.

“What are you afraid of?”

I am taken aback by his words as they hit harder than any punch.

“It surely isn’t death, so that I will not give you.” Geta approaches slowly and sloppily. He gets so close to my face, his breath crawling into the cracks of my lips. I smell the wine so clearly that I am sure that I can get drunk on the smell alone. “How can I best torture you?” He grabs my chin almost tenderly as he whispers. The sparrow watches my lips - by now it seems he has made it his duty. A feeling creeps on my spine and my breath jerks. Geta grins.

“I went to your little… bed, and I found this.” From his pocket he pulls out the knucklebone, given to me by Alexandra. Instantly I reach out for it, but he is quick to remove his hand. He shakes his hand and from his mouth comes these demeaning sounds: “tsk, tsk, tsk.” It sounds like a squirrel’s chatter. I feel so little. His lips only inches away.

“What does it mean to you? It’s just a bone…” He takes a step back and inspects the knucklebone between his fingers. His filthy, filthy fingers.

An anger and an anxiety spewing within. “Nothing. Give it back.” I spit.

He turns his gaze to me again from which fury rages in its scornful manner. There are no words, only a war between our stares. In this moment I wish to cut off his every limb, dismember him like they did my brother by the order of those beneath him. The tyrant. The unbelievably gruesome man who dresses to cover his mediocrity. The man who’s taken Alexandra from me, only a few inches away.

“You do not order me around.” He warns ghastly. “Answer me.”

I reach out again, and Geta stomps on my foot. I cry in pain and try to fight back, but he pushes me off my balance. Harshly, I land on the floor, on my side. A lightning bolt crashing through my body from my hip to my head. I weep, but I fight to press words through the startling numbness, growing out of the floor, infiltrating my core: “I won’t tell you.”

“Shame.” Geta grits his teeth. Hastily he walks to his table and places the bone as he grabs ahold of a book. Giving me no time to think or react he holds it above his head, ready to motion it towards the only hope I have. He wants to shatter it. He will.

Panic endues. “WAIT!” I yell.

He stops.

I wail. “It’s a bone given to me by one of the other slaves.”

“Who?”

I give him no answer, leave him in quiet. My heart feels as if it was the one to be stomped on. My head beginning to throb.

“WHO?!”

“Alexandra.” Her name falls out and, in my head, regret takes its place, settling among all other sensation fed by this menace.

“Alexandra.” Geta tastes her name as he puts down the book slowly.

I let my body completely break to the ground. The cold of the marble being the only comfort I need. The sound of my tears hitting the surface resembling the sound of small childish chatter and broken wishes. They fall, seeking truth but finding sorrow so deep. Suffocated by the limited space between my faith and my destiny, both brittle and frail. His little laugh stifled, making its way to my ears in between the chaos that is my mind. The chaos that is him.

I hear him walk up to me, crouching down. I feel his eyes, scanning my frigid body. They burn. “Looks like I found your torture.” I look up from the floor and see how he is entertained by the state, I am in.

“Please, don’t hurt her.” I only wish. I gulp. “Master.”

The word vibrates on his skin as his eyes look at me more attentively. It strikes a nerve, but one of the good. It looks as if it activated something in his obscene brain, like it spiked his interest in me. I feel and see the filth soar in his eyes. He undresses and dresses me dirty in his mind, I am sure. Disgusting beast.

“I won’t hurt her…” Geta lets his words hang in the air before finishing. “… just yet. Get up.” He stands. Shakingly, I follow. I don’t know how I still find the strength. Adrenalin keeping me afloat. The sparrow grabs my chin once again. “I hope you now understand the power, I have over you.”

I don’t understand what I have done to fully offend this man. I haven’t given him any treatment he hasn’t seen before, I am sure. He scans my face as if it’s his last chance, breathing in my air like he has never tasted an air so fresh. Geta looks almost obsessed.

“You do not speak to my brother – or near him. But you will keep him company for I have never seen him so controlled before…” Geta admits amidst the threats. “I am keeping you alive for him. Remember that.” I feel a lie linger from off his tongue.

A tear trails off my cheek onto his finger, yet he seems unbothered. He’s nothing like his brother. I remember how Caracalla held me and dried my tears away.

“I won’t hurt him.” I assure him for that is the truth, I admit. It seems if I strike it must be him. Caracalla is incapable of the inhumane things his brother puts him up to. I watch Geta’s eyes dart back and forth between my eyes and my lips.

“Good.” There’s an uncertainty in his growl. “You do not wish to see my wrath if you were to disobey.”

If he just knew how I would tear him apart if I had the chance. Leave him to rot in the sea.

Geta stands, staring at me intensely without shame. His stance is tall as he is towering over me with all his might. I wish to find the crack, and he looks to want to fill out any cracks I possess in the nastiest possible sense. He licks his lips. “I might just reward you if you do.” His words mingle together with other tingles inside, distress. “Do you know what it takes to please a man?” His grip becomes firmer. His other hand removing hair from off my face.

Although I am given no seconds at all to respond, he is quick to be unsatisfied. His hand moving from the chin to its rightful place. It finds shelter around my neck, tipping my head back. Geta examines the marks he has left from the day before. My air choked up and piled beneath the skin, scared to try and peak out. I shake my head in obedience. I do not know if I do it out of fear or because of the sudden thrill of unfamiliar attention - only introduced to me shortly by his brother. I am disgusted by the way my body reacts; a sour taste lies burying inside my mouth. The pit in my stomach prickling, reminding me of its existence.

I force closed my eyes to try and numb out this new feeling, but instead it enhances. Geta leans in and I feel his damp lips brush by the hairs of my neck. I feel how to sensation provokes hysteria within my heart. I choke, not by the force of his hand but by the impotence of my lungs. He makes way across the bare skin of my throat by trailing his hand down to my collarbone, his lips nibbles on the bruise. A sensation of both pain and pleasure.

My hand jolts to hold at his shoulder as my insides flips. The tingling turning to a throbbing like a headache but lying deep in my gut. A fuzzy feeling censors all thoughts, sorting away purity and logic. The amorous feeling eating me away. There’s a noise that I do not register as my own, leaping from my mouth.

Geta jumps in motion. His hand possessively grabbing at my waist, stabling himself to my body. The other keeping my neck in place, pressing deep into my skin. The nibble becomes a bite, the bite into devouring every scent on my neck, devouring my every sense. I am blinded to reality and led into a dreamscape of sorts.

Soon enough I find myself lying on his bed as he pins my arms over my head. Having lost all control, I let it happen. My leg slightly bent, slightly keeping him on a slight distance. A bulge hidden beneath his clothes is almost stabbing into my thigh. His length. Arousal brews between my legs. I almost feel the urge to shy away.

All over my collarbone, my throat to behind my ear he tries to eat me away. A surface I never knew was so sensitive. He groans. “You’re not only his.” He hisses, pushing himself past my guard. His hand grabbing beneath my knee, positioning me for his desire.

Before my closed eyes I see Caracalla smile.

“This is so wrong…” I mumble.

I see my mother, my father, and my brother. The beach, the war, the flood of blood. I feel the way it paints shame across my mind, feeling the emperor’s filthy hands grabbing at my flesh like one of his concubines.

I try to push him off but to no use. He’s settled upon me like stone, heavy. I groan and suddenly I cry. I feel as if I am betrayed not just my brother but also the burdened. I am confused.

“What is happening in your mind?”

There’s a sudden rush of tears. I claw at his upper body, hoping that he will stop. The arousal is numbing, but I do not wish to obey. Not this easy.

Frustrated, he groans and slaps my cheek. It stops me from crying. He grabs my cheeks. “Stop it.”

I shake my head.

He mumbles something, discontented in Latin, sounding so bitter, but as I open my eyes to face the anger, I meet only unease. Worry. Geta’s eyes filling with tears. He’s… panicking…? The world stops its fret. All I hear is how Geta is far from catching his breath. He looks to me as if I have all the answers. There’s no end to the distress which grows from this man’s heart.

“Please let go of me.” I beg.

Fear ravishes his soul in the depth of his brown orbs. Sweat mixing with the tears dipping onto my chest. He looks as if he doesn’t trust his own tongue, mute he slowly releases my arms, my body from his might, his weight. I crawl and scrunch my knees to my shoulders. Images starting to reappear. Bodies. Blood. I hyperventilate.

I feel his hand at my shoulder, but I pull away.

I let the moments drag me away. I only hear him whimper before I faint.

The next moment I am awake, I am back in Caracalla’s bed. All alone and all tugged in. I feel a faint kiss on the top of my head, and a sweet whisper: “Sleep soundly, meus flos.” A pet on my hair. “I will be here…” - Words unknown - ” … again. I will make sure of it.”

Next chapter: ehhh soon enough... (rough times are happening)

All support is greatly appreciated <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra, @omg-hellgirl, @t6gse370, @duckyhowls, @littlemissholy, @naysha140, @lover-rep-fanfic

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

This fic contains non-consensual elements. Please do not read, if such content makes you uncomfortable.

AN: Thank you @nanamiscocksleeve for hosting this event. October or Kinktober is a month that I have always wanted to write for but end up not doing so for lack of time and motivation. But this event made me want to push myself. I'm late but I'm here. Thank you for waiting. (Contd. below)

Tw: non con, dark content

Please use this soundscape generator for the full experience

Growing up near the ocean meant you were always aware of just how powerful and dark it was. 

The strong arms pulled you to the depths, far below the surface of the water. You cursed yourself. Why had you been so arrogant? You knew the ocean was not an entity to be toyed with. You could feel the oxygen slowly leaving your lungs as your captor swam further and further away from the silver-topped waves.

You regretted everything: wearing this frilly new bikini despite it barely covering your voluptuous curves. Wading out with your friends under the moonlight. Drifting too far before realising you weren't close to them anymore and they would never hear your cries for help. 

In the darkness of the night, you were unable to see anything around you but the hand that wrapped itself around your ankle pulling you deep. You were a good swimmer, but this was…

Your lungs started to burn, still the grip on you never loosened. Instead, you felt sharp claws dig into the flesh of your arm. You let out a cry of pain, muffled by the weight of the water, and immediately a pair of cold lips closed over yours, exhaling into you.  An acrid salty flavour filled your mouth, and you tried to push your attacker away, but they were far stronger than you, the shackle on your arm tightening further…

You heard your heartbeat pumping in your ears, louder and louder, lungs struggling to hold on. The world around you dissolved into ink. You wanted to hit out, scream, but instead you felt yourself getting weaker and weaker. Your assaulter felt it too, slackening their grip. It didn't matter why you were the one taken or what would happen next. You weren't ready for death. The darkness closed in on you, and then there was nothing…

*****

When you woke, you were still surrounded by water in all directions, but the lack of light didn’t bother you as much as before. Even through the ultramarine gloom, you could recognise the vague shapes of coral and—

A soft swish of water moving attracted your attention. You whipped your head around and inhaled sharply—you could breathe? How? The water in your lungs should’ve killed you by now.

Still adjusting to the changes in your body, you watched as a strange figure approached you. This must have been the one who took you away from the surface—only, they weren't quite human. 

Legend spoke of the existence of creatures of the deep: not quite man, not quite fish, but something else entirely. Merpeople…a merman.  These were, of course, brushed off as old wives’ tales that did not hold any weight. But swimming before your eyes was the very legend himself.

His long dark hair flowed with the gentle current as he hovered in front of you. A wicked smile was plastered on his face, sharp white teeth gleaming contrastingly. Your breath hitched and you lowered your gaze— as though some force beyond your control was pushing you down.

The merman was adorned in strings of pearls and other precious stones but wore little else. A long sapphire tail swished below your feet, swooping under you and pulling you closer to him. Extending a scaled webbed hand, he caressed your cheek, sharp claws instead of nails trailing down your jaw like a warning. Glinting gold threads ran down his finned back and travelled down to the end of his tail.

Good. A rumbling voice in your head jolted you out of your stupor. I feared you would sleep through this. 

Writhing in the merman’s grasp, you desperately tried to find the source of this strange voice, but there was no other living being in sight. The finger trailing down the side of your face dipped to your collarbone and slid down to the swell of your breasts. You shivered at the touch—in fear or in anticipation?

The hand squeezed your breast, making you jump, and the creature hissed in response: I can smell your fear and you smell divine… 

 He pulled at the strings holding your bikini top together, and it fell away with no effort, your nipples hardening from the chill and the merman’s touch; instinctively, you moved to cover your breasts with your hands and pushed the merman away. 

 In the dark water, the flimsy top floated away, settling on to a rock below. You remembered your friends calling the swimsuit sexy in the shop and insisted on you buying it because what man could resist?

Turns out it was not just human men… 

 SLAP! 

Your cheek stung, the webbed hand held up threateningly:

Behave, human.  

You cowered and cupped your cheek — hot to the touch despite the cold ocean water — trapped in the grip of this merman’s tail. Another set of fingers touched you now, hands running up and down your body, exploring every inch of skin, each fold, given its due diligence. You suppressed the urge to cover up, your smarting cheek the only reminder needed to stop yourself. 

The smile on your abductor's face widened, rows of sharp teeth glittering in a wicked mirth. He used his tail to push between your legs now, rubbing against your thighs. His scales grazed your skin, and for a moment, for one horrible, tempting moment, you wondered what they'd feel like against your core. 

As if he had heard your thoughts, the merman delicately pulled the strings tying the bottom half of your bikini. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the orange strip of fabric fall to the ocean floor, joining the matching top nearby, but you were much more focused on how the merman’s hand had begun to drift between your thighs. 

Unfamiliar territory, but he knew where to touch, slipping his fingers between your folds. A swipe – then a taste, flicking his tongue in excitement. He threw his head back, relishing the flavour. 

Sweet. 

A muffled moan passed your lips. No, you wanted to say. Why? You wanted to cry out. It shouldn’t have felt so good.

There was a chuckle from the merman before he swam down, face right at your cunt, but this was more than you had bargained for. You immediately pulled your legs together and pushed away from him, kicking your feet to swim upwards. Whatever he wanted, he wouldn't get it so easily. 

You had to go up. Up would mean the surface. You would be free. Up would mean… 

The merman watched you swim  away slowly, following without a sound. You swam well, but he was faster. The swell of your ass and bouncing tits made his cock stir. What had once been driven by curiosity was now being driven by…hunger. 

Seeing his silhouette approach, you cried out, but there was nothing to be done. He extended an arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you to him. You struggled and pounded your fists against his firm chest, bubbles escaping your mouth where there should have been sound. Unfortunately for you, it only served to heighten his hunger.

The merman had never held a body like yours: soft, pudgy flesh that dipped into enticing contours, full rounded breasts that hung like the fruits of Eden. Arms thick and muscular, tanned by the warmth of the sun's rays. And petal-like lips that pulled into a frown of disapproval. 

 You continued to struggle, but his grip remained steady. Ignoring your wriggling protests, he flicked his tongue between your breasts, trailing it down your chest and soft tummy till he reached your crotch once again. 

Be good. 

You jolted as his tongue snaked out and rubbed against your clit. He wasn’t—he couldn’t—

Sweet…

Strong arms parted your legs this time, holding you in place by your ass. Trying to escape was futile – all you could do was whimper helplessly. The merman’s tongue lapped at your pussy— slow flicks that took their time to explore you fully. He knew what he was doing. His lips found your clit and closed over the small bud, softly sucking on it. You squeezed the merman’s head between your thighs as your head fell back, soundless moans escaping you and disappearing into the darkness above. You could feel nothing else in this damp, muffled existence. Only him. 

Filled with loathing and pleasure, you reached down, carding your fingers through his silky hair, pushing your hips into his face, further and further as he smiled against your skin, his hunger only growing with each lick and taste. You should have pushed away. You longed to do so still. And yet, you pushed into him more and more as his claws dug into your skin.

 Geto. The voice came once again creeping into your mind soft as a spiders web. Say my name. Say it.

“Geto!” You cried out, almost like a prayer. The name drifted upwards through the sea and towards the sky somewhere far above. Your orgasm drew closer, effectively pulled from your tightening core. The merman felt you squirm and kept going, unwavering: tongue almost flat against your pussy, licking thick stripes from the bottom to your clit. Two webbed fingers found their way to your opening, pushing into you roughly. The fingers curled inside as he sucked on your clit once more.

You squeezed your eyes shut. This was wrong. It was so wrong. But it felt so good. How? It didn’t make any sense! You’d never felt such ecstasy in your life, falling apart in the arms of this monster known only in legend, your legs spread wide as the creature made sure his teeth didn't pierce the soft flesh, pleasure heightening with each continued touch. 

Without warning, your climax hit you, wracking through your body and making you spasm and quiver in the merman’s hold. Hips bucking into his face, you rode out your desperate orgasm, feeling every touch Geto made with his tongue and fingers. The water rippled around you, scaring away a school of small fish. 

Geto swam up to your eye level once again, examining you carefully as you twitched and shuddered through your orgasm. He gently placed your arms around his neck, waiting for you to finish. 

Good? 

You nodded in response; it wasn't like you could hide your glazed-over eyes, still coming down from the involuntary high. It had been the merman who had drawn the arrow, and made sure of its well-aimed release, the same merman who now pulled you in for a searing kiss. 

His lips were icy-cold - a striking contrast against yours. Yet he kissed with a ferociousness that threatened to consume you whole. “Geto…” You moaned against his mouth, the vibrations of sound the only other sensation you could feel apart from his lips. He only responded with a hum: a rumbling melody that cut through the waters. His hips pushed up against you and you looked down. Through a small slit in his tail, his cock stood at attention. Unlike any human anatomy, it seemed the ocean had had its way here. In spite of yourself, you studied the appendage, observing it just long enough for Geto to notice. It was longer than any you had seen before, but not very thick. The tip was pointed and not round, but didn't seem like it'd be painful. It matched the colour of his scales,  gold threads running all the way around it like veins. 

A hand encircled your throat, drawing your gaze back to his face: a beautiful prince of the ocean draped in glittering jewels, silky black hair that the current played with, dark amethyst eyes that did not leave you even once. What was there to fear, to doubt? Any apprehensions you might have had drifted into the impenetrable waters, carried away by the waves. You laced your fingers behind his head, and he pressed against your body, scales rubbing against your skin. His cock-head prodded at your fat thighs and you spread your legs of your own accord this time, allowing it to slip in. The water helped, almost as though a living being itself, allowing him to pull you further onto his length. 

His lips met your throat now, gently pressing soft kisses against the thin skin. 

Warm…You are beautiful. And you are mine. 

You nodded. His. You would be his. There was no denying it. 

Geto’s cock now bottomed out in you. Still raw from your climax, your insides twitched at the sensation. It was so new. So different. It was as if someone else had taken over your body, making you react in ways that you’d never imagined. Who was this person inside you, moaning and pushing yourself closer to him? Who had you become?

His broad chest pressed against your breasts, and you moaned at the sensation of him grazing your nipples ever so slightly. Your fingers found the fin on the merman’s back and you ran the top down its arch, drawing out a hiss from his lips. He thrust up in response,  and you cried out at the sudden feeling of his cock hitting your cervix. He grinned at you again with those rows of shark-like teeth – threatening despite his smile. His arms around your waist, he manoeuvred your body according to his will, slamming you onto his cock repeatedly, each thrust sending you further and further into blissful stupor. Your head dropped into the crook of his neck, hair tangling with his. But he did not stop, thrusting faster and harder. He could feel the jiggle of your body against his, and it drove him insane with need. Fat flesh, full tits, thick ass — you had been the perfect choice. Everything he could ever dream of. He never wanted to let you go. 

Geto chased his release, desperate to fill your cunt with his seed. The effect of the potion he had slipped into you earlier would wear off soon, and he had to get you back to the surface before it was too late. His thrusts grew sloppier, more erratic, as he continued pumping in you, fingers tangled in your hair as another hand held your waist. Your soft mewls and moans - which he could hear, even if you couldn’t - spurred him on further, and with a deep groan he spilled into you, pressing you as close to him as possible. He would not waste a single drop.

When he was finished, Geto pulled your head close to his, kissing you again. Good human. You did so well. 

You smiled at his praise. You did well for him, and it filled your heart with joy and relief. But a nagging feeling told you it wasn't right. You shouldn't have. You didn't belong here. 

Geto held your arm once again and swam, this time towards the surface. “Geto…?” You carefully called out, your body feeling heavier by the second. He hummed once again, but you couldn't think of something to say. 

The water rushed past the two of you as he swam faster with you in his arms, the current of the ocean almost passing through you. Your chest began to burn, and it was so much harder to breathe. Around you, the ocean darkened, the burning sensation spreading through your lungs. “No,” you gasped, but nothing came out. You grabbed onto the merman’s arm, desperate to tell him somehow, but he only swam faster. Whatever little you could see of him was blurry, the ocean calling you back down despite how close you were to the sky again. Your surroundings faded from sight and you kicked at the water in a futile attempt to reach air. The last thing you felt before blacking out was Geto pulling you into his embrace as he continued the climb to the surface.

******

You came to on a secluded patch of your hometown beach. The sun had just started to rise above the horizon, the sky turning lighter and lighter as you coughed up salt water onto the wet sand. It burned in your throat, and you had never been more thankful for the oxygen that filled your lungs now. You were wearing your bikini again, but you remembered it drifting away in the deep. Had it all been a dream? Had you just drowned under a wave and been regurgitated back by the sea? 

You sat up slowly, looking out at the grey morning waves. In the distance there was a flash of a brilliant blue. Your heart jumped in your chest, and you clutched at the pearls around your throat…pearls around your throat…

A reminder. A promise. A warning. 

MINE. 

AN: This fic would not have seen the light of day if it wasn't for @ominouslywritinginmyhead. Not only did she rewrite whole chunks of garbled prose, she also encouraged me gently to overcome my blocks and finally finish the bastard. Thank you for taking the time to look over it with such haste even giving up your Halloween party with Toji cosplayers to help my smutty literature. Thank you for your support and your love. I couldn't have done it without you Saber.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 13 - Next

"Swansea! Did you eat all the sweets?"

Swansea: "I don't know what you're talking about!"

He crossed his arms indignantly at your accusation, while you could see the chocolate stain on his mouth. 

Anya: "It wasn't him... I was eating the sweets you brought..."

You turned to look at her and tilted your head. 

"...You have been... very good, Anya" 

Anya: "...Thank you, captain"

"Did you left any candy? Can you share a bit with us?"

Anya: "Oh- yes, I'm very sorry for hogging them all by myself- I just wanted to eat something sweet"

"Don't worry, I understand. Just don't steal them, okay? We're just about to go home, we need to hold on a bit longer, then we'll eat whatever we want." 

Daisuke: "When we return! We'll stay in touch, right?? I don't want us to drift apart! Swansea, I want to meet your children and your wife! Oh, and I want to try the captain's food! The captain talked a lot about how much he misses her food!"

All the enthusiasm the boy had, you set aside while you slowly walked towards Anya and carefully took her hands. 

"You wear looser clothes."

Anya: "Yes..."

"...You know we have to wait three months... And three more to return?"

Anya: "I know..."

"...If that's what you wanted... I'm going to help you."

Both men were attentive to the conversation the two were having, approaching curiously. 

Swansea: "What is that whispering you two are doing?"

Instead of telling her, you looked Anya straight in the eyes, hoping she would confirm it herself. 

Anya: "I... didn't took the pills to end my pregnancy..."

Daisuke: "What??? Why???"

"That doesn't matter. It's the decision she has made and we are going to support her, we won't leave her behind."

You interrupted him and looked at the ceiling for a moment. 

"Should be born when we are already in the rescue or before it... But I didn't say anything about a pregnant crew member..."

Anya: "We can induce it, I'll be on time before they arrive anyway."

"You know the risks of that, and we don't have the equipment prepared for something like this."

Anya: "I trust you"

"Ah... You want to gave me a heart attack, don't you?" You sighed, resting your forehead on his shoulder. 

Anya: "Please no" she responded with a chuckle. 

Daisuke: "So, we're going to have a new member in the crew! Shall we give it a name?"

Swansea was about to hit Daisuke on the head to make him shut up, but Anya responded calmly. 

Anya: "I think the best thing will be not to give it a name. I plan to hand it over for adoption when we reach Earth again." 

The boy slowly raised his hand, as if asking for permission to speak. 

Daisuke: "Can I at least give it the nickname Polly? I don't wanna call it thing"

Anya: "You can call it however you want."

"Seriously? Polly? Like the mascot of Pony Express?"

You looked up just to judge him for his comment. 

Daisuke: "Of course! First baby born in space! On the Tulpar of Pony Express! Nicknamed the great pet that everyone knows!" 

"Swansea"

Swansea: "With pleasure"

Upon saying that, the man smack the back of the head of Daisuke. 

"Well, how about you take me to where you hid the candy?"

You patted the woman's shoulders, and she nodded to guide you to her room and show you where she kept them. 

Anya: "Seriously, aren't you going to ask me why I decided this?"

"My curiosity is killing me. But it was your decision, and I will respect it."

You got scared when you felt her arms around you, holding you tightly from behind. 

Anya: "...I was afraid of the pain, of infertility, and that in the future, when I want to have a family... I couldn't, and I must remember why... remember what he did to me... and the pain I felt..."

"...You are very strong... Much more than I was"

Anya: "Don't you think that... I'm a coward?"

"Not at all, I understand your reasons. And I'm glad this is going to bring you peace."

When she slowly let go of you, you turned to look at her and smile. 

"But before you even think about starting a family, I want to see you with your doctorate degree! Understood??"

You shook her several times, making her laugh.

Anya: "Do you think I can?"

"Of course! The ninth time's the charm."

You winked at her, making her laugh, and she hugged you, hiding her face in your neck, smiling sincerely. 

Anya: "I'm glad you're with us... Without you, I don't know what would become of all of us..."

"You're welcome... You are my crew... You are my responsibility."

You indicated by returning the hug.

[huntingcupid]

NOBODY GETS ME (YOU DO) — J.Y

how am I supposed to tell ya? I don't wanna see you with anyone but me nobody gets me like you how am I supposed to let you go? only like myself when I'm with you

⌗ YOONCHAE — fem!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, swearing, established relationship, bittersweet ending, pt 2o fmulto, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — you felt her presence anywhere and everywhere, her image never left your mind, yet yours has left hers

⌗ CUPID — im getting threats for this.., ykw i think i might get killed for this pt2 anyways....��

you went home that day, feeling euphoric, it's not like you missed her right? — you did, you missed yoonchae more than you wanted to admit, it sounds selfish but sometimes you wish that you told her what you actually felt, what you felt about her leaving

you wished you told her that you didn't want to stop talking, you wished that she was still by your side, hugging you and laughing at your jokes — you wanted her to love you again, to love you enough not to leave

you searched through your closet eventually opening a small box of your old phone — it was like an ancient relic, the case barely clear but you could still see the polaroid of you two on its case, you power it on and wait a while

“i really miss you” you murmur tracing over yoonchae and your figure through the phone case — the phone finally powered on, you were greeted with yoonchaes drawn wallpaper, you sighed, it seemed pathetic that you would do this just to feel like she's still around

you debate whether to call the number on your screen, nicknamed “my yoon”, it made you feel like a desperate ex, which you were yet you still can't stop your heart from beating her name

“what am i doing?” you clutch your self tears forming in your eyes, you thought you were better than this, thought that you officially moved on, yet here you are stopping yourself from calling her number, you throw the phone on your bed deciding to take a cold shower to wash away whatever you have in your mind

the cold drops of water frame your form, making you slightly shiver — you close your eyes trying to stop thinking about her, erase her image from your mind

later that night you lay in bed, silence filling the room as you stare blankly at the ceiling — you wanted it to stop, to stop flooding your mind, stop making you crazy and miss her

days pass even weeks and nothing filled that void not even going to your favorite places — eating your comfort foods nothing worked, you eventually decide to take a midnight stroll in the city — enjoying the hum of the music in your ears, and the soft thud of the rain serving as a background noise

you walk and walk to wherever the wind takes you — slowly clearing your mind, it felt peaceful for the first time in quiet a while, you'd officially (maybe) forgotten her

you see a nearby 7/11 empty and almost calling your name — “instant noodles sounds nice right now” you mutter before walking up to it

you pick out an instant noodle, some snacks and drinks — debating if you should buy more or buy less — you pay for it before microwaving some of it and sitting down inside watching a corny k-drama

you slurp the noodles, the warm broth warming your soul — “hmh” you hum the taste melting into your senses, the crispy chips served as a side dish, healthy? no, but it was delicious and cheap

you watch as the main character in the drama runs in the pouring rain, her male partner running after her, screaming about how much she mattered — just as it was getting to the climax the store door opens

you immediately look, and see her — jeung yoonchae, she was wearing a cap but nonetheless you can recognize her face from miles away, she was walking with another girl, it wasn't one of her bandmates right? — you saw the lineup, it's not one of them

“oh this one!” the girl says excitedly, you saw how yoonchaes eyes lit up looking at the girl and it felt like a dagger just went through your heart — “sure!, i also love this” the korean murmurs back, she's lying you can tell, she never liked those chips

“go pay for those, i'll get us a seat” you wanted to hurry and run out of the store yet somehow you froze and sat there — yoonchae walks up and sits two seats away from you, has she forgotten you?, she doesn't know how you look? — fuck why are you not leaving

“y/n? is that you?” you hear yoonchae say, you slowly turn and you felt butterflies in your stomach, you wanted to run up to her and hug her, kiss her cheeks and tell her how proud you are — “oh uhm hey, yoon” you mutter smiling softly

her eyes studied your features yet a hint of guilt plagues hers — “h-how are you?” she asks, “I've been okay, congratulations by the way” you replied which she smiled to

“yoonie!, here i got our snacks” the girl comes running up — “y/n, my uh-” yoonchae started stuttering, “girlfriend, haerin” she finally says, the final stab

“oh!, hi!” you greeted flashing a fake genuine smile — “hi! how do you know her yoon” haerin asks the younger girl, “she's my uh-” you cut off yoonchae “old friend, we were high school classmates” you smile bitterly and see how haerin smiles and nods before taking a seat beside yoonchae

maybe this is the sign you've been waiting for, you stood up and waved before walking away, and for a split second yoonchaes eyes followed you, glancing your way — before she returns to haerin

your chest felt heavy with the newfound revelation but somehow better too — you wanted her love all this time yet she has found someone else's love already

now there they sat in you two's old spot, using the same jokes you made, it felt bitter, like a sting to your emotions

yoonchae had that spark in her eyes, the same spark she had when she'd look at things dear to her, like she looked at you — maybe this was the point, to see her happy, even if it meant not being with you

you stole a last glance meeting her eyes before you ultimately walk away, leaving what you once considered home and comfort, it's time for you to move on, just like she did

wc: 1.2k words

[virahaus]

WIP WEDNESDAY, Obi-Two

Hello, hello! Is this me coming back for wip wednesday to post a little snippet about Obi-Two second chapter? why yes, yes I am! If you wanna refresh your memory before reading this snippet just go and click on the link <33

Still can't thank you enough for all the love you have show my fic, and I hope to update soon!

But let's dive in:

Anakin was drowning. 

He could no longer hear, no longer see, even if he knew the masters were discussing animatedly what Future Obi-Wan had revealed. 

Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord.

It wasn’t possible—the Chancellor of the Republic would never—

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding, maybe Obi-Wan wasn’t really from their future because there was no way—no way—

Palpatine was his friend.

And yet. 

The force all around Anakin buzzed with intent and urgency, as if it had decided to show Anakin with no possible doubt, that the man he thought was a good and perhaps his only true confidant was, in reality, the enemy who had brought death and suffering upon all Anakin held dear. 

It was inconceivable. 

And yet… 

Nausea rose up. Palpatine knew so much about him, things that he had never told to Obi-Wan, that he had never told even Padmé. His mind started to play out all the times Palpatine had encouraged his feelings of hatred and revenge, the way he always guided Anakin to consider his fellow Jedi as inferior or to doubt their intentions. 

The way he had ordered him to kill Dooku, and Anakin had obeyed.  

His heart pounded in his chest; panic crept in, threatening to suffocate him. Palpatine knew about everything he had done—the atrocity he had committed, the slaughter that stained his hands. 

He had trusted Palpatine. He thought of him like family, and all this time, he had been the Sith who tried again and again to kill his real family: Obi-Wan, Padmé, Ahsoka, Rex…

I’m such an idiot!

He was a stupid, thoughtless boy from Tatooine that would never, never learn—

‘Anakin.’

Suddenly, he was enveloped in Obi-Wan’s Force signature, his frantic thoughts slowly winding down as Obi-Wan sent waves of calming energy through their bond. Anakin could feel himself starting to relax under the skilful way his Master began to quieten his mind, and he let himself be carried to a more peaceful state. 

‘Calm yourself, dear one. I am here.’   

Obi-Wan’s deep mental voice made Anakin shiver, and he bowed his head slightly, embarrassed by his display of emotion. No doubt Obi-Wan sensed his panic with the way they’d left their bond wide open after the news of his future death. Through their bond he sent a silent apology and hastily reconstructed shields between them. He knew how overwhelming his presence could be, and Obi-Wan wouldn’t want to be distracted further from the meeting.

‘Anakin, please,’ Obi-Wan enveloped Anakin even more in his force signature, interrupting him, and banishing swiftly the shields Anakin erected in the meantime. ‘I don’t wish to close the bond, I merely wanted to help you regain control.’

Anakin furrowed his brow in confusion. Obi-Wan didn’t want to close the bond…? 

An intense feeling passed through Anakin, and he gasped. Obi-Wan had never shared his emotions so vividly before. He was a bubbling mix of anger and protectiveness, and it was all on Anakin’s behalf. It was disorientating to feel how strongly Obi-Wan had taken the news of Palpatine’s deceit—and how incensed he was. ‘I, too, feel quite unbalanced from all these revelations,’ Obi-Wan explained, sounding strained. ‘Muting our bond is the last thing I want right now, padawan mine. I find myself… struggling.”

hope you liked it!!

[zer0-g]

Knockout: Well, well, well, if it isn't the Blowjob Brothers

Frenzy: Dat's Right!

Rumble holding up a trophy that reads "Gear Stick Champions 1984": Yeah!

Knockout: Hm, not the reaction I was hoping for

-Knockout, Thundercracker, Skywarp-

Knockout: Well, well, well, if it isn't the Blowjob Brothers

Thundercracker: Yeah, yeah, real mature

Skywarp: sniffle

Thundercracker: Woah, you okay?

Skywarp through tears: It's just, ever since coming to Earth, I've been doing a lot of thinking and... I don't know what my gender is? I've been keeping it bottled up so far and I thought I was doing fine but I don't know why being called "brother" broke me this time when I've been called that hundreds of times and didn't let it get to me

Thundercracker: Hey, hey it's gonna be OK, got it? You'll always have my support, bro- er, sibling? Let's go with sibling for now, yeah?

Knockout backing away slowly: Deeefinitely not the reaction I was hoping to cause. Still, at least I helped...

-Knockout, Starscream, Soundwave-

Knockout: Well, well, well, if it isn't the Blowjob Brothers

Starscream: The bl- THE BLOWJOB!?! Why I never! How dare- I would never debase myself to commit such an act! If anything, I would have it performed on myself, as oppposed to this- this defamation! That I would ever give someone else a blowjob!

Soundwave: No one said anything about whether the act was given or received. You just assumed that it was about you performing fellatio. That says a lot about your true feelings on the matter

Starscream: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!?! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I'LL TEAR YOUR SERVOS OUT!

Soundwave playing back a recording of Starscream: "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I'LL TEAR YOUR SERVOS OUT!" Proof of a threat against me. An email containing this recording has already been drafted. The recipient - Megatron

Starscream: Don't you Fucking dare, or I swear by Primus you'll never know peace

Soundwave: Further threats have been made, email sent. Megatron informed

Starscream: YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!

Knockout: Now this is what I was looking for

Knockout takes a sip from his mug labeled "Oil from Breakdown": Ah, still fresh