#Like there are things I can actually appreciate about him.

[dduane]

Just checking in

Because some of y'all are worrying about me, I know.

(Inserting a cut here. TW, as you might expect, for mentions of death and after-death issues. Also of crap beds, noisy clueless tourists, and giant koi.)

The "Trip Away From Home To Try To Get A Grip On Things" is proceeding as well as it can when the one element it would need to be perfect, and truly enjoyable, is missing. (sighing) If Peter was along in corporeal form, he would be lapping this up.

...Well, everything except the current weather. I'm in Interlaken, and it's raining. And not just some little passing episodic rain, either. This is more, even, than the Irish definition of "soft weather". It's coming down in the steady persistent way that would make Peter say "Well, that's on for the day..." And so it may be. So for the time being, I get to sit in the hotel and watch it rain, and consider the odds of actually getting up the Jungfrau to see the Aletsch Glacier before any more of it melts. (And those odds seem poor: but more of that later.)

So here's where I've been:

Dublin—overnight in U2's hotel. Which is very nice. And which has come down in price, astonishingly, on their singles. (Though I nonetheless thank, yet again, the folks who have made this difficult transitional people so much less problematic for me via Ko-Fi.) As Peter had been telling me I really should try this place some time when I had to be going somewhere else, I took him at his word.

Zürich, just briefly. (Shopping will wait until the run back.) On the way to:

Basel, for one night before the Eurovision finals. I don't know for sure, but it seems likely to me that Basel may have broken the record for biggest Eurovision venue (the St. Jakob's Stadion had 49K people in it on Saturday night). Also: one of my cabbies told me that the city had nearly half a million tourists in it... which, for a little-ish city like Basel, is a whole lot. I can tell you that about half them seemed to be walking around in the streets when we were trying to drive in them, and it was a nightmare, and my cabbies were saying terrible things in Baslerdeutsch.

Freiburg im Breisgau for two nights out of a planned three. ...I had to go early, as the bed in the [otherwise lovely] room the hotel had put me in was not good for my back. Fortunately I had enough funds on hand to simply kiss off that third night and return to the hotel in Basel, which not only had way better beds, but the most comfortable pillows I've ever slept on in a central-European hotel. I would go back to the Maerthof (money allowing: it ain't cheap...) for just the pillows alone. (And also the shower in the room was terrific, and I very much noticed and appreciated the numerous solid and well-placed accessibility aids. Ask for room 402, and don't freak out when the anti-sun glare blinds automatically come down at 0900.)

And now, Interlaken (already famous to some of you for this craziness, in which we found soup ads in Terry Pratchett's German editions). I'll be here tonight and tomorrow night, and then (probably, not decided yet) in Bern the night after. Zürich again the night after that, as I fly back to Dublin the next day, see people on the Dublin 2029 planning committee, and then... head back home to get on with gettin' on. ...Whatever that looks like.

Mental state: I miss him. Oh gods I miss him! Every fifth minute. Or third. And I always will! That's not a conditional. But I'm watching my moods (and physical health) with great care. If I start suspecting that I need antidepressents, or some other kind of specialized care, I'll go get it. There's lots of it around. (I note in passing that my appetite has slowly come back. My sleep patterns are still stupid, but I'm getting more sleep than earlier in this ten-day period.)

Be clear, too, that this isn't just me Being Tough because it's expected of me. I now have even more work-related responsibilities than I had earlier... as soon enough the copyrights on Peter's books will pass to my guardianship, and I have to make sure they're properly cared for. (In particular, his contract with his current e-book publisher is about to run out, and I think I'll be reclaiming those for publication at Ebooks Direct, as the other guys haven't been doing that stellar a job with them.)

And then I have to figure out: what do I need to do to write, now? Because there's a whole lot of that work that needs doing. Can I ever do it again in that house that's so quiet without him? And if not, how do I make this work? Peter has been the not-so-silent foundation of my life for forty years. (We missed that fortieth wedding anniversary by so little...) My most constant reader is now no longer in condition to read and report back...

(sighing) We shall see. Everything, now, is an adventure. Just nowhere near as cool a one as it was when he was here.

...Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the hotel in Interlaken, which has a charmingly modernized yes-this-is-the-Swiss-countryside-but-we-have-heard-of-modern-life-thank-you-very-fucking-much quality to it. And in particular: it's next to a feature called "The Japanese Garden" that features a pond with some of the BIGGEST damn koi I've ever seen. The damn things are like zeppelins. I'll post pics of them tomorrow: I want to see if there might be better lighting in the morning. They remind me of the ones at this hotel in Santa Monica that used to come up to the poolside bar seats and make adorable irresistible Fishy Faces at you until you fed them salted peanuts from the bar snacks. Which apparently they knew they were not allowed to have, but loved anyway, and they would make faces at you until you broke and appeased them.)

Meanwhile, here is this evening's wine. "Lucifer"? What's not to like? It's a light Valisan quaffing red.

("When you're drinking Swiss reds," says the Voice In My Head, "get the whole damn bottle. It's cheaper than by the glass. And if you don't finish it, or we don't finish it, you can always take it up to the room with you and have it tomorrow.")

(...You see what I put up with.) :)

Hugs to you all.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 25

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 24 | Series Masterlist | Part 26

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Summary: You want to feel normal after your ordeal, but change won't happen overnight.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, crying, assault aftermath, inner turmoil, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Can you believe it has been almost here since we started?! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby and @mumbles411 , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up earlier than you expected, but made no move to get out of bed. Your body felt stiff when you tried to sit up, which was to be expected since Clark threw you to the ground pretty hard. Being prepared for it didn’t stop you from tearing up. You blinked the tears away when you realized Bucky wasn’t in the room.

You barely said a word after you left the club, and you didn’t protest when he held you close in the car. It was like he needed you in his arms to chase away his remaining demons, and you needed comfort as well. But once you were back at the penthouse, he led you to the guest room instead of the master bedroom. He let you be while you robotically went through your nighttime routine. And he didn’t make a move when he got in bed beside you.

“I just want to make sure you get some sleep,” he told you, his hold tender instead of smothering.

Before you sleep took hold, you heard him whisper that he loved you.

Had he snuck out during the night, or did he get up not too long ago?

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand that Bucky graciously plugged in, you were glad you were alone. You didn’t want Bucky or any of his men hovering while you called Mrs. Crandle. It was bad enough you were calling in when you just wanted the sense of normalcy and control in your life, but what were the chances you’d make it through the day without breaking down?

You held your breath when you dialed and waited for Mrs. Crandle to answer. It didn’t take long. “Hello, dear.”

“Hi, Mrs. Crandle,” you tried to smile, but there were already tears in your throat. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

“You are never a bother,” she promised, which only made you feel worse. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

“I…” What were you going to tell her? “I’m dealing with something very personal right now, and I don’t… I don’t think I can work today. I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were dealing with something personal. It didn’t stop you from feeling like you were letting her down.

“Oh. Oh, dear. You take the day off, and don’t worry about finding someone to cover for you. I’ll take care of that,” she assured you, knowing you weren’t the type to make excuses to skip a shift.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, that’s your business, but is there anything I can do to help?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. She was so kind, always looking out for her staff. “Just… keep being the wonderful boss and person you are.”

“Oh, I will. And you tell that man of yours he’d better be helping one of my favorite employees with whatever’s going on,” she said.

A laugh almost came out. If she only knew. “I’ll tell him,” you said, sitting up straighter when you remembered something. You were concentrating so much on ther other things last night you had forgotten that Zemo met up with her. How could you forget about that? “Before I hang up, I wanted to ask. Did you win an all expenses paid trip to a flower expo?”

“Why yes, I did! Can you believe it? The man I spoke to actually contacted me this morning to make sure I was still going.” You gripped the phone tighter. Zemo had promised to back off, so why continue the charade of the expo? Unless it was legitimate, and letting Mrs. Crandle go was part of the olive branch to you. “I was going to ask if you possibly wanted to go, but if you’re dealing with something-”

“Then it’s probably best that you bring someone else,” you finished for her. “I understand.”

“It would be nice if you could go. I think you’d like Gotham,” she said, making your heart drop. Gotham, where Clark wanted to take you. “But we can discuss that later. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will, thanks.”

You put your face in your hands once you hung up. It was all supposed to be over. You hoped it was. Mrs. Crandle deserved only good things, along with everyone you cared about.

You went quickly through your morning routine, and heard chatter once you finally went into the hall. You stood still, torn between eavesdropping and heading to the kitchen for breakfast. Your curiosity got the better of you and you tiptoed down the hall toward an open door- Bucky’s office.

You stopped when you heard Curtis speak.

“You really think she’ll go for that?”

Go for what?

“You’ve already been keeping an eye on my girl from a distance, but she needs a bit more. She needs a real bodyguard,” Bucky replied, your eyes wide. A bodyguard? How the hell would you explain that to your friends? “Last night proves it,” he added with a bite to his voice.

“Why not Ray? From what I’ve seen, she trusts him,” Curtis said, which was true to an extent.

“I could have Ray be her bodyguard, but then I’d need you to be by my side and we know you don’t like being at the club,” Bucky pointed out. “You barely tolerated being there last night.”

Why did guilt fill you? Was it because Curtis put himself in an uncomfortable situation because of you? If you hadn’t been attacked, he would’ve stayed hidden in the shadows.

“She may be grateful that he helped her, boss, but do you think she’ll want him as her bodyguard?” Ray asked. “Or that she’ll want a bodyguard at all?”

“If not Curtis, who else? It’s the best choice,” Bucky replied, which was met with silence. The men must’ve known not to argue further. “And whether she wants one or not, it comes with the territory.”

You exhaled through your nose. Comes with the territory whether you wanted it or not? It was too early for that shit.

“You know, for starters, it would really help if you all asked me,” you said, making your presence known as you walked in. Bucky stood up, alarm in his eyes, while Ray and Curtis looked at you with unreadable expressions from their chairs. “But I guess we’re right back where we started where what I want doesn’t matter.”

Was Bucky going to make you live the rest of your life like that? Would he dictate whatever he wanted while trying to paint it as doing the best thing for you? How could he call that love?

For a moment you thought Bucky looked upset because you were eavesdropping, but he rushed around his desk to you and you knew that wasn’t the case. “Kotyonok, you should be resting.”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?” you asked, stiffening only for a moment when he got closer and reached for you.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. Bucky wasn’t Clark. He wouldn’t throw you to the floor. He wouldn’t try to choke you.

“I did, and we will talk about that. I’m just glad to see you still have your spirit,” he smiled softly, slowly framing your face with his hands. Your spirit was both itching for a fight and begging for rest. “How are you feeling?”

“Stiff,” you admitted. A bath in that wonderful soaker tub of his would hit the spot, which you would take advantage of later. “But I don’t need any painkillers before you ask.”

He frowned and dropped his hands. “Lay down,” he urged, nodding toward the sofa a few feet from his desk. “It’s very comfortable, trust me.”

You huffed, but went to lay down as instructed. It was only because you were stiff and still tired. Before you could spread out on the sofa, Bucky took a seat on one end and patted his thigh. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Rest your head here,” he urged, patting his thigh again.

You snuck a glance at Curtis who looked like he was fighting a smile. Ray hung his head a little. “You want me to lay with my head in your lap in front of them?” you asked.

“They're going to see us for the rest of our lives,” Bucky said, tossing an arm on the back of the sofa. “Please, lay down.”

You blinked, remembering the night he broke in and sat waiting on your sofa like he owned the place. The darkness in his eyes, the smirk on his face. But now? He only looked like a concerned boyfriend.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, getting as comfortable as you could while resting your head in Bucky’s lap. You opted to curl up facing away from him so you weren't staring directly at his crotch.

Bucky caressed your arm, his touch featherlight. “Is this okay?” he asked.

You tilted your head back. He was asking if it was okay to touch you? “It's fine,” you replied.

You caught the soft smile he gave you before you faced forward again. It was strange how people called you Bucky’s queen when you didn't feel like one. What kind of queen curled up with a king in front of their council? Didn't queens stand tall and proud?

“You're thinking too loud,” Bucky whispered.

How did he know? “I think Zemo contacted Mrs. Crandle,” you said.

“He did,” Bucky confirmed, continuing to caress your arm when you tensed up. “You didn’t think I forgot about her, did you? I’ve had someone keeping an eye on her since Zemo met her up with her.”

You remembered. No one knew Zemo’s angle at the time. “But I didn’t…” You sniffled and felt Bucky’s muscles tense beneath your head. “I didn’t even ask about her last night.”

You asked about Lois and your friends, but not your boss.

“You were attacked and you’ve been dealing with so much. Last night was about getting answers for you and the fact that you went to the club after what you went through is nothing short of amazing,” Bucky said, refusing to let you blame yourself for any of it or let you argue. “Mrs. Crandle will be fine. Nothing's going to happen to her. Zemo just couldn't back out of the expo because it would've hurt or upset her, which would have upset you.”

“And he wants to stay on my good side after last night,” you guessed. So it was an olive branch of sorts. “It’s taking place in Gotham.”

That couldn't be a coincidence.

“Another possible way to get you out of the city, but there was no way to guarantee Mrs. Crandle would've asked for you to go with her,” Ray spoke up. “Not to mention Zemo would've had to handle her if you were missing, which could get messy.”

You shivered and Bucky suddenly had a blanket over you. It would've destroyed her if you went missing while on a trip with her, and your heart could hardly bear the thought of Zemo hurting her or getting rid of her. “So, she’ll be okay?” you asked.

“She’ll be just fine,” Bucky promised.

Your fingers curled in the blanket. “I’m trusting you, Bucky,” you whispered, hoping it was a promise he could keep.

His hand froze and you could sense the emotion in his eyes without looking at him. “Thank you.”

“Curtis?” you asked, his blue eyes meeting yours to acknowledge you. “I know you suggested Ray and I appreciate that, but would you like to be my bodyguard?”

Having a bodyguard was another step in the path of accepting your place in Bucky’s life. But if there were other enemies out there or anyone simply interested in using you as a means to get some of Bucky’s fortune, it was better to have protection. At least for now.

“I already-” Bucky began.

“I’m asking him and giving him a choice,” you cut him off. Yes, Bucky had his mind made up that Curtis would be your bodyguard, but you still wanted to ask. “I think I’ve earned that privilege.”

“Who am I to argue with my queen?” Bucky teased.

Curtis chuckled and you found yourself smiling a little. Even Ray looked like he wanted to smile. “Since you’re asking, the answer is yes.”

“Thank you, Curtis,” you said, closing your eyes. “Can we sort the details out later?”

“Of course,” Bucky replied. You had a feeling he would be the one handling that anyway. “You just need to relax.”

You were trying, but he was making you relax with him. “I need things from my apartment, like my bridesmaid dress,” you said.

“We’ll handle whatever you need so you don’t have to go back there,” Bucky assured you.

You bit the inside of your cheek. It was still him or his men going through your things, your memories. “I need other things. Stuff to bake the brownies, and things to make arrangements here.”

“Again, whatever you need,” he smiled. He’d probably make you a greenhouse on the roof if you asked.

“And I need to get in touch with Natasha so I can-”

“That doesn’t sound much like relaxing,” Bucky gently said. You huffed in response. Sitting around doing nothing wouldn’t do you any good, even if your body was screaming at you not to push it. “But I am arranging our movie and pizza night tonight, so that should help you relax a bit.”

You did agree to that the night before. “I think I want to go to the library,” you said. It was the one place Bucky said he wouldn’t enter without permission and none of his men were allowed in there.

You held your breath and waited for the argument, for Bucky to tell you to stay put. Instead, he carefully helped you sit up. “I’ll take you there and I’ll bring you something to eat, okay? You haven’t had anything yet, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” you admitted. You called Mrs. Crandle first thing and went to find him.

“Well, let’s change that,” Bucky smiled, helping you to your feet. Ray and Curtis began to stand before their boss motioned for them to sit back down. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, guiding you out and closing the door behind him.

You glanced back and remembered he had the door open while he spoke with Ray and Curtis. Had he done that as a way to build your trust, to show that he wouldn’t hide things from you? Was he going to make an effort?

Bucky stopped at the library door and kissed your forehead. “I’ll grab your phone for you, too, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, stopping when you took two steps in. “Did you stay with me all night?”

He nodded when you looked back at him. Had he held you? Kissed your forehead? Whispered to you to make any bad dream go away? “I wanted to make sure you slept peacefully, although…”

“You wish I’d sleep in our bedroom.”

His eyes lit up at the realization that you didn’t say his bedroom. “In time,” he whispered, walking away without another word.

You exhaled and went to select a book. Your fingers moved along the spines, recognizing some classics as well as modern titles. But you didn’t pick one, your eyes unfocused.

Curtis was going to be your bodyguard. Your life changed so much that you’d need someone watching you at all times. Would he hang around the shop while you worked? Would he linger nearby when you went out with your friends?

Could you even invite the girls to the penthouse?

You stood at the bookshelf long enough for Bucky to come back and clear his throat from the doorway. “Do you want me to bring the tray in?” he asked, holding it up for you to see. Not only did he have plenty of food, a drink, and your phone, he also had a bright flower in a small vase. It was sweet.

Shaking your head, you went to him. “I can take it,” you said, not wanting anyone in your sanctuary at the moment.

If Bucky was hurt by declining his offer he hid it well. It meant a lot that he kept his word and didn’t go in. That was progress. “You’re not okay, are you?” he asked, your eyes connecting.

You gripped the tray hard when you took it. “I’m just taking it one moment at a time,” you answered. It was all you could do. “Could you please shut the door?”

Bucky didn’t hide the hurt this time. It wasn’t just shutting the door, you were shutting him out. “Sure,” he whispered, the door softly clicking shut when you turned your back to him.

As you sat and ate, you let a few tears fall before you finally selected a book. You were unsure of the next steps, and you mourned, but you weren’t sure exactly what it is you were mourning. A piece of your innocence? A normal future?

Bucky, for his effort, gave you space when you refused to come out after breakfast, leaving your tray outside of the door and refusing to say a word to him. He brought you lunch as well, one of your favorites, and left you another flower and a small sheet of paper that read, “I love you, Kotyonok.” You thought about crumbling up the note, but you put it on the table with the flowers.

Every now and then you’d look around and swear that Clark was there watching you in the shadows. It was your mind playing tricks on you, of course, but you kept your eyes on the door in case someone tried to come in. You swallowed bitterly, hating how afraid you were. How would you conquer that?

The girls in the group chat all mentioned taking it easy today, which brought tears to your eyes all over again. They were taking it easy because they were exhausted, and they were exhausted because they were drugged. All of that because of you. It was your fault. It was all your fault.

No… it was not your fault. None of this was your fault. “It’s not my fault,” you whispered tearfully, gripping your head to quiet the taunting voice that blamed you. “It’s their fault.”

Everything in your mind swirled until it became a tornado, destroying everything in its path. It felt harder to breathe, like something was closing around your lungs. You had to calm down before you spiraled. You needed…

“Bucky!” you shouted.

You barely made it to the door when you heard footsteps race down the hall. The door flew open and Bucky stood with wild eyes, struggling to rush in and pull you toward him since you hadn’t told him to come in. “Kotyonok, what-”

“Tell me you won’t hurt my friends,” you demanded, a sob coming out when you pointed at him. You had to hear him say it. “Tell me.”

Bucky flinched when you gasped for your next breath. “I won’t hurt your friends.”

“Tell me it isn’t my fault,” you continued, shoving him back. You could hear Ray and Curtis in the hall, but you paid no attention to them. “Tell me what happened isn’t my fault.”

“None of this is your fault, do you hear me?” he said through his teeth, his anger directed elsewhere and not at you. “None of it.”

The spiral in your mind began to slow. “Tell me you won’t hurt me,” you barely whispered. “If you really love me you won’t hurt me.”

He made a wounded sound like you saying the words hurt him. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised.

Your shoulders slumped. You believed him, damn it. Why? “I’m sorry. I…”

Bucky waved a hand for Ray and Curtis to stay back before he extended it to you. “Come with me.”

You hesitated before you wiped your eyes and took it. You didn’t realize he pulled you toward the living room when the scent of freshly baked pizza and popped popcorn reached your nostrils. “What…”

Bucky had pizza, popcorn, snacks, and drinks set up along with blankets. “Our movie night,” he reminded you, guiding you to sit down. Had you been in the library so long that it was nighttime? “But before we do anything else, I need you to breathe.”

“Hurts,” you whispered. It hurt to think, hurt to feel, hurt to breathe. Why did it feel so hard today?

“I know it hurts, but you’ll get through the hurt because that’s how incredible you are,” he whispered back, pulling you into his arms to rock you. He breathed slowly, urging you to follow his rhythm. “There you go. Breathe. Good girl.”

You took another deep breath, ignoring how the praise relaxed you. “I didn’t bake today,” you said sadly. You wanted to make those brownies for Curtis. “I didn’t make any arrangements.”

You didn’t contact Natasha to set up those self-defense lessons. You didn’t figure out when you’d visit Lois. God, you didn’t even take that bath. Wallowing in self-pity led you to hiding in the library all day, but maybe you needed it more than you knew.

“It’s okay that you didn’t,” Bucky said, kissing your temple and wiping more tears away. “I know you want to bounce back immediately, but you have to give yourself grace.”

He was right about that. “I shut you out,” you said. You shut him out in his own home. Why? To punish him for his part in all of this? To be in control?

He sighed and only held you closer. “I deserved it,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “But we’ll be okay.”

He said it like he was fighting for you, for each other. “I just want to feel normal,” you said, giving him some insight into your thoughts and feelings.

“And you will. We’ll take it one moment at a time.”

A few minutes passed while he held you, and you eventually put your head on his shoulder. He held you so much in the last few days. You wanted to feel strong and not feel afraid anymore. You wished that could happen overnight, but you needed patience and grace.

And Bucky, well, he would need to accept his hand in this. He had to see you at a low point so that he’d never want you there again. He had to see you broken so you could build yourself again, with or without his help. Because if he wouldn't love and accept you at your lowest, then he didn't deserve you at all.

“So, what are we watching?” you finally asked.

“You said you wanted to pick the movie,” he reminded you.

He listened. He remembered. “Something funny,” you said. Something that wouldn’t upset you or make you think.

“Comedy it is.”

Bucky waited on you hand and foot during the movie, making sure you were comfortable while you ate. He had an arm around you when you weren’t eating, but didn’t let his touch wander. It took a bit, but you eventually laughed during the silly moments in the film, and he gazed at you like the sun rose in front of his very eyes.

You stole a glance after a few more minutes and found him staring at you instead of the screen. Unable to help yourself, you tossed a bit of popcorn at him. He blinked twice in shock while you tried not to laugh. “Did you just…”

“Toss popcorn at you? Yes,” you said, looking back at the screen before popcorn hit your cheek. “Hey!”

He licked the salt and butter from his fingers. “Oops,” he teased. “C’mon, Kotyonok. I had to defend myself.”

One second you were staring at each other and the next second turned into a full blown battle. Popcorn and candy went everywhere as you threw everything within reach and you found yourself laughing when a piece of candy landed in his open mouth. He growled and gently tossed snacks back at you, making you laugh harder.

It was ridiculous. Silly. Unexpected. It felt like… a real date.

“I’m not cleaning this up,” you giggled once the battle ended, gesturing to the mess. At least you didn’t spill any of the drinks. “And I think I won.”

“I have people for that, and we’ll call it a tie,” he smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Fuck, you have a beautiful smile.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He wanted to kiss you, you could feel it, but he didn’t lean in. He waited for you instead. You didn’t kiss his lips, you were still too raw for that today, but you did kiss his cheek before you put your head back on his shoulder.

“Thanks for this,” you whispered. It was only the first day since the incident, but he was trying and you had to give him that.

“Thank you,” he whispered back, leaning his head on yours. “I’ve got you.”

“I know.”

And resting in his arms like an actual date, you were blissfully unaware of the missed calls and texts from your mom.

Our poor girl. Let's hope Bucky keeps trying. And let's hope Mom's messages aren't a bad thing. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[nightingale-prompts]

Jason's fucked up new dog-DCxDP prompt

Based on this video

Jason found a decrepit Xolo dog a few months ago. The thing looked half dead. It was almost entirely hairless and thoroughly unpleasant.

Jason refuses to listen to any negative talk about his puppy. The thing weezes and has a cough of a smoker.

How it escapes death—no one knows. That is until a boy showed up at Jason's door with a clipboard.

"I'm here for—Darcy." He said "He's like 4 years overdue and he's evaded everyone before me."

An apprentice grim reaper had come for Darcy and Jason needed to convince him to not take the dog.

Force wasn't going to work, and telling him that he loved his dog and didn't want to lose him didn't work either.

The teen wasn't moved in the slightest.

"Look, dogs die. We treasure what time we have, and we learn to move on. I have a dog myself, and I get it. You can get a new friends and know that he'll be fine with us." The grim said.

Jason had an idea. Two people that could wear down anyone. Tim and Damian.

His brother actually came in handy as they argued Jason's case.

"The paper says that Darcy is overdue to die. But that's impossible because he wasn't named Darcy until 2 months ago. If anything his new name and identity would transfer to a new contract and thereby extend his life as a grace period." Tim argued.

"While I appreciate the semantics, Darcy has lived a good 17 years for a dog. He is also a xolo which means he has an important role to guild the dead and looking after the deceased." The grim said.

"If that's the case, he belongs with Todd." Damian said confidently.

"What do you mean?" The grim asked suspiciously.

"You're all about paperwork and contracts right?Well, Jason is legally dead and physically half dead. So Darcy is like a service dog." Tim said, backing Damian's claim.

The grim cased a look at the twitching, cow eyed dog. Then he sighed.

"Alright. The death dodgers is yours. I don't think we are in short supply of reaping dogs anyways. I'll be checking in of course because the oldan is going to croak eventually. Take my card and call me when you are finally willing to give him a peaceful death natural death, and not a needle from a vet." The grim said, handing Jason his card and disappearing in a black mist.

The black card had white ink lettering.

"Danny Phantom. You only need to say the name."

[nightblackowlbat]

Soulmate AU Dead on MAYn 25 day 1

Trope: Ghost culture is weird

Word: Bones

Scenario: Jason meets Dany as a ghost

Dialogue: “Wait, you can see me?”

Ever since Danny’s soulmate words came in, his parents’ attitude towards ghosts had done a 180. After all, what else but a ghost would say something like “wait, you can see me?” as an introduction? And if their perfect boy’s soulmate was a ghost, then ghosts couldn’t be all that bad. Jack and Maddie were soulmates after all, and they would never dream of trying to keep their son from his fated other half. (Maddie had the question “did you just build a spirit box out of a crockpot?” along her inner arm and Jack had “Obviously!” Stamped on his forehead.)

All that’s to say that the Fentons were no longer obsessed with catching any old ghost to study. No, instead they were obsessed with catching Danny’s soulmate to add them to the family. It made things pretty awkward when the portal opened up and the Fentons chased down every ghost to introduce their son, only to find Danny gone at the last minute and Phantom appearing to chase the other ghost back into the zone.

Danny was just about ready to die again of shame when Jack brought up the possibility that Phantom was his shy yet jealous soulmate, not ready to meet him yet but hating the idea of Danny meeting any other ghost first. Luckily Jazz pointed out that since Danny’s words were “wait you can see me?” It implied that his ghostly soulmate was a much weaker, invisible ghost that would only appear outside of Amity. Danny had never appreciated his big sister so much. He carefully didn’t mention that Phantom could go invisible at will.

Alas, one cannot stop a determined Fenton couple, only redirect them. Which is why they were on this grand family road trip to visit every cemetery and graveyard in America. Or at least, have Danny visit them. Jazz once again came in clutch insisting that nobody needed their whole family hovering around as they met their soulmate and demanded the parents visit colleges with her while Danny explored graves on his own.

Danny didn’t mind really, wandering around graveyards was far from the worst way his parents could have made him spend his summer. Besides, cemeteries were peaceful, beautiful even. And meeting (and teasing) the few ghosts who actually stuck by their graves was nice. Hey, as an obsession based ghost it was his right to poke a little fun at those boring graveyard ghosts who just stuck around their bones.

“Are you seriously haunting your own grave? I’m not sure I can think of anything more cliche and that’s coming from a ghost who goes by Phantom.” Danny tossed out as his usual cheeky introduction.

The ghost whirled around with a look of shock on his face. “Wait, you can see me?”

Danny felt his soul mark burn and his jaw dropped in mirrored shock. “Well I’ll be darned!” He laughed out loud. “I guess this trip wasn’t useless after all. Nice t’meetcha soulmate! I’m Danny.”

The ghost huffed. “Oh a’course I only meet my soulmate once I’m dead. Shouldn’a ‘spected any different given my weird ass words.”

“Uhm, I’m guessing you’re Jason? Or do you have a dead name you’d rather go by?” Danny nervously asked.

“Isn’t that an oxymoron? No one wants to go by their dead name. That’s the whole point.”

“Oh! Ghost culture is weird. Dead name means something different. It’s- a ghost’s dead name is who they want to be in death rather than who they were in life? Hmm. No, that’s not quite it. It’s who they always were, just crystallized and purified from everything that tainted it in life. Like, it’s who you are without life getting in the way.”

“Then. I guess I’m Robin. He can’t take that away from me now that I’m dead, now can he?”

[xxiiam]

Unpunishable

Contents - dbf!joel x fem! Reader , Jackson! Joel , relationship established but no label on it , age gap but no specific ages you’re an adult but Joel still doesn’t see you as an equal , mean-ish Joel , boot riding , two pussy slaps , size kink if you squint , daddy kink, joel always too soft on you in the end, unprotected sex, creampie , fingering, joel is huge

Wk - 2.835k

Authors note - you can imagine this as game joel or hbo joel i don’t really care need both , need dbf joel need dbf joel need dbf joel. Inbox always open reblogs and comments always appreciated. Female perverts rise

The clock had hit 7:00 pm and still no sight of joel he said he’d be home at 6:30 and would make you both dinner . You just waited , reading . You got so bored you even started inspecting all of the tchotchkes and Knick knacks Joel had collected over the years. Nothing of interest to you. Then you heard the gate close so you rushed to the window opening the drapes to see joel walking up the small path to your shared home.

You turned on your heels rushing to the door sliding on the wooden panels as you bounced on the balls of your feet waiting for the door to open. Joel walked in tired eyes meeting yours , “someone’s excited to see her old man” his gruff voice spoke out as he slid his thick jacket off and hung it up on the coat hook. “I am! I’ve been waiting- you’re late daddy.. M’hungry” you said toddling towards joel and were greeted by his large rough , calloused hand on your cheek . Thumb stroking back and forth before he smoothed over your hair , “‘m sorry sweetheart , you did your hair real nice ‘nd pretty for me today” his eyes trailed down landing on the short flowy dress you had on littered with floral patterns . Joel always liked you in floral dresses, “even dressed nice for me too? What’s the catch? You wantin somethin?” He smiled as his hands travelled to your waist smoothing out the dress .

You shook your head but a grin was plastered on your lips , “no no just wanted to look pretty for you when you got home, missed you. Felt lonely , I always feel lonely when you go out on patrol I have no one to talk to nothing to do”

He sighed smile being wiped off of his face , joel hated talking about this . He just wanted to keep you safe in the house , safe from the outside although you lived in a nice community you weren’t too sure what he meant by that. But he often scolded you saying “adults know best” although you too were an adult.

“We’re not talkin about this again when you’re older you’ll realise I’m doin all this for your benefit” his voice was stern it was more him talking at you than to you. You frowned , “I am older , I’m not asking for much maybe you can talk to the lady at the bakery and ask if I can help out I just want something to do I don’t like being cooped up in here all alone.” He removed his hands from your waist and just walked past you to the kitchen to start making food. Ending the conversation. Joel hated when you walked away from him during conversation but had no problem doing it himself.

Dumbfounded you stood there for a moment , why did he always treat you like this? Leaving you in the dark about so many things you weren’t stupid you just wanted to feel like an adult. You soon followed him into the kitchen sitting down at your retrospective designated place at the table, “you always tell me it’s rude to walk away when someone is speaking to you” . His back was still turned away from you , “you want me to start treating you’re a big girl? Start actin like one instead of a spoiled brat. You don’t know how good you have it here” . You stammered for a moment but joel didn’t actually let you speak before continuing , “you forget to set the table today. You say yer bored , got nothin to do . I ask you to do simple things around the house and I don’t see you doing nothing just day dreamin all day”

Your fists balled on the table out of protest you wouldn’t actually do anything you and Joel both knew it was performative. “I jus’ forgot that’s all” . He didn’t respond he just continued cooking 30 minutes of silence is what he gave you. Until he set your plate down on the wooden table . Joel knew you hated silent treatment. You just hated not knowing what you did wrong and why he wasn’t speaking to you. You just moved the food around your plate with your fork watching him eat. “Stop playin’ with your food nd just eat it.” He ordered his mood still sour, “not hungry” , he clicked his tongue and set his fork down staring at you , anger very present in his face. You were teetering on a thin line and you knew consequences would be in due. “You told me not thirty minutes ago you were hungry said you’d been waitin all day now you’re sayin you’re not? And you say you’re grown , you’re this and that but act like this whenever things don’t go your way?”

“Why are you being mean to me today?” You pouted staring at your food , you were hungry but you just were too upset to eat it. “I’m not . I just don’t like your attitude change it or I’ll fix it for you” he said standing up and putting his finished plate in the sink. Washing and wiping his hands with a rag. He turned around again clearly making himself more and more angry thinking about how stupid this situation is , but you still spoke up . “I just missed you nd you’re being mean to me” your tone sounding more and more childish although you didn’t mean it to be. You were just upset maybe joel was right.

He walked over to your seat pulling it back , “knees” he commanded you just stared at him blankly , “I won’t ask again” he spoke his eyes were dark , in all honesty you had done your hair and dressed nicely for him hoping he would fuck you good after dinner so you could go to bed with a full stomach and stuffed with his cum.

You slowly got to your knees from the chair , you reached to start unbuckling Joel’s belt but he swatted your hand away , “no you say you missed your daddy? Prove it” he looked down to his boot , you looked down to his boot then back at him , “how do I prove it?” . He flipped up your dress using his boot before sliding his left leg forward towards your knees , “go on” . Your cheeks began to heat up , felt embarrassing being told to hump his boot like some kind of dog. But you wrapped your arms around Joel’s leg and hovered over his boot . Joel usually had patience but not today he lifted his foot so the boot met your cunt , it felt wrong . Bad . But the pressure felt so good. You began to roll your hips down onto his boot, the hard shoe adding pressure to all the right places.

You gripped his muscular leg harder as you tried to chase some sort of high , Joel usually would help you , says you don’t know what you’re doing but you trying things on your own felt good too. “Daddy.. I want more, boots not like your cock” you pouted hoping to have this one over Joel on most nights this would’ve worked but not tonight . “You’re lucky I’m even lettin you do this. I could’ve just sent you to bed, empty stomach and untouched pussy. I know you’ve been waitin all day to be touched. Achin’ for it aren’t you?” He was still angry with you but you were his baby he knew you couldn’t sleep properly without being touched .

You nodded , “need my daddy” your hips stuttered as you continued to grind down on him , pussy leaking through the cotton panties you had on soaking his shoe . Your small whimpers filling the otherwise silent room , Joel’s patience was wearing thin he palmed his hardening cock through the denim . A part of him really loved how pathetic you were at times only could get off with his help he always needed to help you. He gripped your arm with a bruising grip pulling you up leading you to the living room . “Can’t do anythin for yourself” he said sitting down on the couch his legs parting he held his hand up stopping you from sitting down , “take it all off for me honey” you just nodded as you started to undress in front of him before standing awkwardly barren and naked for his eyes to coast over you .

He patted his thighs , “come sit let daddy take care of you” . You smiled crawling onto him he turned you so your back was facing him and he slid his rough hands down your sides . Bringing one arm over you cupping your breast in one hand pulling you back into him as he slid his hand down and cupped your sex before lifting it and coming down with a swift slap which you yelped at the sting lingering as he smiled against your neck pressing a kiss down onto your shoulder , “shhh baby I know I know I’m being mean” he began circling your clit using the pads of his middle and ring fingers before trailing down your slit collecting all of your slick wetness and spreading it up your cunt , “this wet from grinding on my boot? You did miss daddy didn’t you?” . You whined and pouted , “I told you daddy but you didn listen” . He smiled once more , “sorry sweet girl ‘m listenin now” he pressed only one of his thick fingers inside you without warning and you bucked your hips into his hand mewling like a cat. “That feel good? Been waitin all day haven’t you” .

He then inserted a second finger in stretching out your sopping hole , everything about Joel as just so big compared to you it’s why you always felt so safe with him although he was tough on you , mean at times but he fucked you so good. “When do I get your cock daddy?” You said between whimpers as he pumped his fingers in and out of you curling up to press against your velvety gummy walls. Always so impatient , but who could blame you? You loved the way Joel stretched you out, it hurt so good always rewarding you with his cum, it was like a warm hug from the inside.

He clicked his tongue , “so cock hungry, let me just play with you for a minute ,why don’t you?” He would alternate from his fingers being inside you to rubbing your clit as his fingers lazily groped and played with your tits . Joel liked this a lot just playing with you , hearing your small moans the way you’d sit and squirm on him . Wasn’t this supposed to be him fixing your attitude? He was just giving into you. This old man is getting soft.

You began to squirm more , moans becoming more persistent. Your hands gripping Joel’s scarred thick forearms. Your thighs clamping shut around Joel’s hand making him slap your cunt once more , “try to close your legs again and I won’t let you have my cock tonight” you pouted and whined at the sting before spreading your legs once more , joel loved how obedient you would be . He kissed a trail down your neck to your shoulder , being tickled by his rough facial hair . His fingers still pumping inside you like a well oiled machine , your head falling back onto him as the coil inside you began to unravel more until it finally snapped. Your thighs shaking as you had full body convulsions on his lap , your cunt clamping around his fingers as he kept curling them up inside you making you ride out your orgasm. “Good girl always cum so hard f’me , you think you deserve your old man’s dick now?”

You nodded , words still on the end of your tongue but you were in such a euphoric state your body didn’t allow sentence much more than a babble escape your mouth . He lightly moved you off of his lap , sucking on his fingers before reaching for his belt buckle . You heard the metal clang tighter before he pulled the belt through the loops and took it off completely . Undoing his button and letting you hear your favorite sound of the zip being pulled down. You loved that sound it meant you were in for a treat. Your nightly sometimes morning routine.

He pulled his jeans down just enough for his thick cock and heavy balls were free , he then pulled your now pretty much limp body onto him. Thighs either side of his , “do you wanna help daddy or do you just want me to do it” he asked like he always did in this position . You shook your head and just wrapped your arms around his neck burying your face inhaling his musk, “daddy do it” you said muffled. Joel obliged taking his dick in one hand as he held you steady with the other . Although he did just stretch you out with his fingers it was no help he was just too thick. He always has been too big for you but you both loved the stretch. His throbbing head trying to push its hardest into you , you just whined in pain into Joel’s neck . He moved his free hand from your hip to your back rubbing up and down trying to soothe you , “ I know I’ll make you feel good just push through this pain for a minute for me won’t you honey?” . His hands now both shifting to your hips as he began to push you down onto his cock , his hips lifting to meet you half way . Your eyes squeezed shut from the pain and you bit down onto his traps . Joel didn’t mind you biting in fact he liked it just a little. When he had finally fit all of himself inside you he let you settle for a moment , adjusting to the size just as he always did .

When you said you had adjusted enough he lifted your hips once more leaving a small gap between the two of you before he began fucking his cock into you from under you . You loved doing this with Joel because his cock pummelled your insides hitting all the right places making you squeeze down on him , moaning his name into his ear like a mantra . How your fingers found their way in his hair and his iron clad grip on your hips , a bruising grip but he always made sure to kiss them better after. You arched your back pressing your chest into his , his lips on your neck feeling his hot breath fanning over your collarbones .

You loved how he fucked you like you was his personal sex doll , he knew how to please you. Only him. He knew it could only ever be him that would suffice your urges. “Takin it so well for me baby, fuck- don’t think I can make this a long one tonight princess. Jus’ wanna cum in this little pussy . Made for me to fill isn it?” He panted against you. You were fucked utterly pathetic at this point babbles just poured out of your mouth not being able to respond to him properly . Joel’s hips jerked and spluttered filling you with thick ropes of his warm cum . You fell limp against him as he pressed a kiss to your head , he lifted your hips once more as he put his now half hard cock back into his jeans he didn’t care that his cum was spilling out of your onto said jeans .

He lifted you with ease into his arms so you were laid bridal style over him as your thigh muscles still contracted and spasmed . He then stood up you still in his arms , his joints popping as he stood they got louder with age . He began to carry you upstairs to the bathroom to give you both a bath . Walking up the stairs he spoke up , “how about before my shift tomorrow we go to the bakery a pick up a loaf of bread and I’ll talk to Bonnie about a job. Part time. How would you feel about that baby?”

You always got your way in the end. That old man is just too soft on you really. You’re just his baby after all .

[thebroccolination]

WHY ARE KRISTSINGTO A BIG DEAL?

TikTok | YouTube

KristSingto are widely respected in the Thai BL industry for their contribution to its historic rise in popularity, but largely because of the language barrier, interfans generally know much less about them. Luckily, @ysphcpb has been kind enough to translate their lesser-known content on her blog, and recently posted some of KristSingto's earlier interview moments as gifs here.

Essentially, once their work on "SOTUS" was complete, Krist and Singto were set loose into the world without any protection or guidance from GMMTV. Just twenty and twenty-one years old when "SOTUS" had its blessing ceremony of January 2016, Krist and Singto went on to experience relentless homophobia from the press and public, constant belittling of their acting abilities as "just BL actors," invasive personal questions from reporters and fans alike, and much more that we'll never know. At very young ages.

In 2022, I made a Twitter thread to dismantle the pervasive rumor of Krist's """homophobia""" with what little I could gather that had been translated into English. I did it mainly because in 2021, I'd seen interfans post photos of Krist's car upside down on the road joyfully hoping he was dead.

Hundreds upon hundreds spat virulent hatred at him without researching any of the claims made against him, and very few have since admitted they were wrong. Some try to claim that "he was homophobic," but I'm fascinated by how they arrived at that conclusion given that Krist asked his parents for their blessing to audition for a queer role in an indie series when he was an unknown university student.

Krist was defending the queer community along with Singto from their very first interviews as a twenty-year-old with zero media training.

I can only say so much about this, and truly, my opinion doesn't matter. So I decided to compile and stitch the videos together and actually show people a tiny portion of what they both went through. We'll never know it all, but please consider that what you see these hosts say is what they were comfortable saying to Krist and Singto on television.

So imagine what it was like behind the scenes.

Kit has said more than once that the one thing he can't stand is when he's misunderstood. And given that he had a long, long history of being discriminated against himself while standing up for the queer community and defending his pride in being a BL actor, it must have been surreal for him to have a wave of international fans appear in droves in 2020 screaming "homophobe" at him in languages he doesn't even speak.

The same guy who attended the farewell party for the gay magazine "Attitude" after featuring on the cover with Singto twice in very risque poses, and told a story about his queer friend whose parents couldn't accept his sexuality:

Even when GMMTV put him on the path of het series, Kit never stopped talking about his pride in Thai BL.

He's not, and he never was, the end. \o/

Meanwhile, Singto has always been adamant that BL shouldn't be considered unique from other stories.

For nine years, he's been saying the same thing! He's not tired of it yet, either! He'll keep saying it.

There's one interview with Singto in particular I think every Thai BL fan should watch because he's incredibly eloquent and it's fully subbed!

I know newer fans are less likely to throw rocks at Kit than fans I joined fandom with back in 2020, so forgive me for the hints of frustration. It's been a long five years of people making assumptions about him when he has done quite literally nothing to deserve the rampant verbal abuse he's gotten from interfans.

I hope that by making this video as a resource, people will see what Krist and Singto both went through.

To appreciate that they got through it with as much grace as they did.

So they could become the experienced, kindhearted seniors they are now, who protect their juniors of all genders from the nightmares they had to go through.

[fatuismooches]

Rooibos tea with pantalone??? ASCENDING 🙏🙏

rooibos tea; what’s their favourite thing to do with their s/o?

It’s hard to pinpoint what Pantalone’s favorite thing to do with you is.

After all, when you’re someone who has as much wealth as Regrator does, you’re most likely at no loss for activities to do. Despite the sentiment being debated, money does, in fact, buy happiness.

Starting from the classic, shopping. Actually, scratch that. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t really go shopping with your husband. Rather, he is the one who shops by himself (for you) because whenever you two go out together, your poor heart aches for the agents that need to transport all of the clothes, accessories, jewelry, and a multitude of other items back to the mansion. Not to mention, you don’t even need these things. Of course, you’ve tried to stop him, mainly by holding both of his hands hostage so he can’t pull out a check. But then you later find your closet has some new additions within the next few days anyway.

The Harbinger does not understand the concept of window shopping either, unfortunately. Pantalone claims that it’s good for the Snezhnayan economy, which you’re sure has some truth to it, but you’re also sure it’s a way to appease your scolding instead. Of course, you appreciate how sweet he is, but you’d just rather have an agent buy anything you need instead. However, he proceeds to get pouty whenever he finds out you “went behind his back”. You think he’s being silly since he gave you your own bank account with an unfathomable amount of Mora for a reason. 

Putting that aside, the shopping is just a prerequisite to the actual activity you two do together, which is none other than dressing you up with the things he bought. It’s very obvious that he enjoys seeing the fruits of his labor being spent on his dearest beloved, specifically in physical form. It is one of the most important uses of his overflowing funds!

Although technically this is supposed to be relaxing, the banker can be surprisingly strict. Pantalone has a very good sense of fashion, most likely due to all his experience being in the public spotlight. Prepare to be fussed over about which clothes match with what accessories and shoes, and spending ages creating just one outfit (which you will wear as his partner to the next gathering). 

“Pantalone, I’ve been posing like this for at least fifteen minutes! Can I sit down?!”

“Just a bit longer, my love. This angle truly brings out your beauty,” Pantalone always says as he circles around you, holding an item up to you and squinting at your frame. Sometimes you wonder if this is tiring for him, but you guess not because he is very enthusiastic about this…

But another activity you two rather frequently partake in is the simple act of shared meals. Yes, his work as a Harbinger keeps him busy, but you two still spend a pretty good amount of time together (maybe that one other Harbinger should take notes). And what other way to do so than by eating together? The banker truly believes that sharing an exquisite meal while chatting with his beloved is one of life’s greatest pleasures.

Though he never says anything, perhaps the reason he is so fond of doing this with you is how contrasting it is with his own childhood. A meal used to be hard to find. It used to be tasteless and unable to be savored, a lonesome thing. And yet now, your presence makes everything worthwhile, even if it’s just food.

“Come now, ‘Lone, open wide!” You attempted to spoon-feed him some of the unwanted vegetables left on your plate.

“Very well,” he chuckled and let you feed him, happy to play along with you. Even though Pantalone now had refined tastes, he could eat practically anything. “Now then, it’s your turn.” You were always unable to escape from his clutches, unfortunately.

Ah, but you two do enjoy the arts from time to time, namely, plays and the like. In fact, the Ninth even funds some performances that catch his eye occasionally. It is something rather nice to indulge in sometimes, mostly with you as his company. Of course, anything that the Harbinger attends is always bound to draw crowds and gossip, which he doesn’t mind. If anything, as possessive as he is, he enjoys the compliments directed at you. Anyone with eyes can surely recognize the priceless treasure he was fortunate enough to procure - a treasure so lovely, but so out of reach, that none other would dare to touch.

“You know, that character reminds me of you. Ambitious, mischievous, intelligent, cute, handsome…”

“Dearest, I’m not sure whether to be pleased you think I’m handsome and cute, or bothered by you calling another man those things.”

But as much as Pantalone deeply enjoys these moments of bonding, it would probably be inaccurate to claim any of them as his favorite. So then, what would one of the wealthiest individuals in Teyvat most enjoy doing with his lover? It’s a curious question indeed.

Well, to put it in Pantalone’s wording, it all comes down to the concept of “fair exchange” once again, only that it gets a bit twisted since it has to do with his lovely spouse after all.

Regrator is a man who manipulates others and the flow of money with ease, goals and plans so great that it’s unsettling, and a mind so sly and intricate that anyone would be frightened to go against him.

And yet he, too, possesses a heart fueled by resentment.

Though Pantalone would never dare to reveal a potential weakness in front of others (unless it was on purpose to lure others into traps), he still grapples with this hatred contained deep in his heart. Every day, he walks high and mighty, his previous status still lingering behind him. A perfectly forced smile that doesn’t seem forced to the average person’s eyes. And there’s a reason why he seldom shows others his eyes - they would show his sheer disdain for them.

So, how does he balance these unruly emotions?

Well, it wasn’t uncommon for your husband to take a break from his duties in the middle of them from time to time. Sometimes, he even visited you. This was one such time, but you just knew from his demeanor that he wasn’t feeling himself.

“Come here,” you urge him with your arms spread wide. Without words, Pantalone lets himself be wrapped up by you and nuzzles into your warmth (despite him already donning that huge coat of his). It was a bit silly for him to feel so validated from the mere act of you hugging and holding him close, but he truly loved it. He feels that you really do understand him.

“… Want me to talk your ears off?” You suggest, knowing that Pantalone rarely ever wants to open up all that much, especially when he was heading right back into the world that cast him out soon after. And so, he likes it when you talk instead. You have a talent for making a genuine smile quirk up on his face, which is something he admires. 

When you murmur your husband’s real name and press kisses alongside his neck, he lets you. He relaxes in your embrace and lets your comforting soul do the rest. This, he thinks, is what he’s rewarded with. Being able to be comforted by you is what he desires.

Despite the radio silence that the Gods had given him, they surely didn’t anticipate him receiving a gift as spectacular as you. He’ll take it - take you - over and over again as an exchange for his past, and never let you go.

It is probably an unsatisfactory answer, compared to the mountain of other exciting things he can do with you. But Pantalone has never cared, since you are the only one who can balance the scales of his heart and the world.

[hearts4johnwick]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Against All Odds. / C. Kent.

SUMMARY. 𝜗𝜚 one of the many things you and clark have in common is your undying love for each other, but, none of you know about that. when clark realizes you’re not coming back to the daily planet, is when he decides to take the risk and tell you—but, is he too late?

CW. 𝜗𝜚 fluff, just a lillllll bit of angst, brief physical description of reader & reader is selfish.

A/N. 𝜗𝜚 omgggg i haven’t written something for David’s Clark in forever, but since we’re one day closer to the movie coming out here is a lil something 🤭🤭 as yall can guess by now, most of my work is inspired by songs, hence, the title being the title of the song + the lyrics that fit the most at the end of the work, im gonna start putting the actual song title and artist in my works inspire by song so for this work it’s against all odds by phil colllins <3

The best part of Clark’s day was always seeing you walking through the door of The Daily Planet. Your elegant and classy outfits, the smile you give as you give a “good morning” to everyone that passes by you, and the trail of your perfume that follows you as you place your things on the desk beside him. And the nice hairstyle that took you a little over 15 minutes to do. It was the little things, he would always appreciate the little things. 

   “Good morning, Clark!” You greet him with a flashy smile, which he excitedly returns. 

   “Hey! How are you feeling this morning?” He asks and your smile fades slightly. He watches as your posture changes, and his eyebrows fall. “Is everything alright?” 

   “Yes…” you say hesitantly, you don’t like to lie, especially to someone like Clark. He has done absolutely nothing but be incredibly kind to you, you don’t know how you could ever repay him, yet, you continue to be dishonest with him by saying “I’m okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your slacks. 

   “You know, you can always count on me… If anything is bothering you, I’m here.” You walk closer to him place your hand above his chest and smile. 

   “Thank you, Clark.” His lip twitches into a smile and he adjusts his glasses. “Have you seen Lois?” You ask. 

   “No, I haven’t.” Silly you. He hasn’t been paying attention to anything, not before you walked through that door, at least. He wasn’t listening to Perry’s voice yelling at him to finish his report on Lex Luthor taking over his father’s company, or Jimmy Olsen asking him how many sugar bags he wanted in his coffee. And when you did walk through that door, his attention was fully focused on you. Not the people around him, just you. Like always. 

   Yet, he always fails to admit his undying love for you, because he doesn’t realize it, not even when everyone around him does. 

   “It’s okay, I’ll look for her.” You smile at him and he nods. You walk off to find Lois, and still, Clark’s eyes are upon you. He smiles to himself before sitting down in his chair. He looks to hide side and sees Robert Fearn, the co-worker who’s always sipping loudly ok his coffee, giving him a disgusted look. 

   Confused, Clark continues his work on his computer. 

   You had found Lois leaving Perry’s office and you quickly went up to her and asked her if you could get coffee later in the cafe down the street, to which she said “Of course!” 

𓂃

   “I have some news.” Lois’ face lightens up, in hopes of hearing some good news, specifically about a certain someone, but you shake your head in disappointment. “Lois…” your tone made her heart skip a beat, she was scared, worried. “Lois, I’m moving.” 

   Lois’ eyebrows furrow and she looks down at her coffee, then chuckles. “Moving jobs? House?” She searches for an answer in your eyes, your once bright eyes. 

   “States.” You say and she stops mixing her coffee. She swallows and breathes deeply. She looks up at you, giving you sad puppy dog eyes. “My mom is very ill, and my dad can’t take care of her alone, which is why, I talked Perry last week, and I quit. My decision is final, I’m moving.” 

   Lois licks her lips before looking back down. “Where?” She asks, wondering if you were returning to your hometown, which, you were.

   “Nevada.” You reply. 

   “Jesus.” She exclaims. She whispers your name, her tone full of sadness, and you hear your heart chip. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. At least, it’s for a good reason, you need to be there, for your mother, I understand that. It hurts, but I’m obviously not going to fight you for that.” She grabs onto your hand and grips it tightly. 

   “I love you, Lo.” You share a smile. 

   “I love you more.” She says and you hum. “And what about…” she trails off. 

   “Clark? Oh, I don’t—I don’t…” you sigh. The situation confuses you, you think, you feel, you know he likes you, maybe even loves you, but at the same time, you feel delusional, he’s just a guy at work you happen to be close with, every woman has that, right? 

   “Look, Clark likes you, a lot, and I think—“ Lois begins, and you cut her off. 

   “How do you know that, Lois? You don’t, so please, please, stop saying that!” You raise your voice just slightly, but you regret it, and quickly apologize. “I’m sorry, I’m just so frustrated.” You run your hands through your hair. 

   “I think you should talk with him.” 

   “No, no, I can’t, it’s too late. I’ll… I’ll stay. For him? Yes, and I can’t let that happen, not when the only thing my mom is relying on is me!” You shake your head and look at her. “I can’t.” Your voice breaks and you take a deep breath. 

   “Listen to me. Your conscience will not let you live freely over there if you don’t talk to him.” Your eyes lock and stay like that for a while, while her words make your mind work. And though her words couldn’t be more truthful, you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t risk it. 

   “I’m picking up my things from the office. I’m done. I’m sorry.” You stand from your seat and begin to walk away until Lois speaks up. 

   “You know, if you keep forcing away your feelings, they’ll only get stronger.” You stop in your tracks, she’s waiting for you to turn around but you don’t, you continue your walk. 

   At the office, Jimmy Olsen walks next to you. “Hey, if you need help moving stuff, you know I’m just one call away.” He offers to help and you smile at him. 

   “Thank you, Jim. I appreciate that very much. But, I already moved all the things I need to the U-Haul truck and they’ll get to my mom’s house soon. Thank you.” You cup his cheek and walk back to your desk. 

   As you were tidying up your desk, you looked over at Clark’s. He’s not there, and you’re thankful he’s not, it feels like those painful goodbyes at the airport; don’t look back, it’ll only make the pain worse. 

   You swallow the lump in your throat and take a deep breath. You look down at the Funko Pop of Krypto in the box full of the supplies you’re taking to your house. You smile and place it on Clark’s desk as a “something to remember me by” parting gift since you love Krypto and think he’s the cutest thing ever, though you’re not even aware the man you have feelings for is his owner. 

   You walk away from your desk and say your goodbyes to some co-workers you’ve grown fond of, all except a particular one who you could not find anywhere. 

   When you make it to your car, you place the box of supplies in the passenger seat and get in the driver. 

   Clark enters The Daily Planet building with high expectations, to end his night with a last look at you, your bronze skin, and your dark hair and eyes, to get a whiff of your vanilla scent as he embraces you—but, he expects disappointment when all he finds is nothing but the computer that belongs to the company. When he looks at his desk, he sees the familiar Krypto Funko Pop, he grabs it and lets out a breath. He looks around the building, searching for you, and with no success. 

   He sees Jimmy putting away his paperwork and walks up to him. “Jimmy. Where is ___?” Jimmy’s eyebrows furrow. 

   “She quit.” 

   “What?” Clark exclaims and Jimmy crosses his arms. 

   “Yeah. She has to move states to help her mom, she’s really ill.” 

   “Back to Nevada?” Clark questions, on the verge of shouting his words. Jimmy nods nonchalantly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

   “It’s not like you cared anyway.” He taunts and Clark tilts his head. 

   “Jimmy, she’s my friend.” 

   “Is that all she is to you? A friend? I would love to know what kind of friend is always watching every single move she makes, like a hawk watches its prey, I love to know what kind of friend loses his breath, and his words whenever she looks into his eyes, I’d love to know what kind of friend gets jealous when someone who’s not you gets a little too close to her… open your eyes, Clark. She’s not your friend, she never was. I knew you were a nerd, but I never took you for someone so stubborn.” Jimmy rolls his eyes and goes back to cleaning his desk for the night. Clark stands in silence, analyzing what Jimmy had just said and not letting it go through one ear and our the other.

   “Jimmy. You’re right. I’m stupid.” Jimmy chuckles. “I do, I do love her, and I wish I had said it before, I do, but I was so scared, scared she wouldn’t feel the same way and I’d have to see her every day, knowing the things I feel for her would never go away. That’s a different type of pain I’m not strong enough to bear.” Jimmy’s eyebrows raise and he smiles. 

   “Buddy, do I look like her? Why are you telling me this?! Tell it to her!” He exclaims and Clark smiles. 

   “I think—no, I love her.” Clark confesses. 

   Jimmy places his hand on his shoulder and shakes him. “Congratulations on being the last one to find out, buddy.” Clark’s face changes at his words. 

   “What?” 

   “Oh, everybody knew. Everybody.” Jimmy laughs and Clark groans. 

   “Gosh, I am so stupid…” 

   “You said it, not me…” Jimmy laughs. “Now go… before you’re too late.”

   “Wait, she’s leaving tonight?” Jimmy hums and Clark exclaims under his breath.

“You better go to her, if you’re not too late.” Clark sighs and walks out the door, leaving Jimmy alone in silence.

Clark is constantly flicking his wrist just to look at the watch, it's 8:15 currently, and for some reason, he gets a feeling that he’s too late, he fears he won’t get to look at your big brown eyes one last time, or caress your soft hair, or connect the birthmarks on your face as if he was aligning stars.

By the time he arrived at your house, he had his tie loose and his hair was all over the place, his glasses slipping due to the sweat on his nose, but nothing was going to stop him, not even your moving vehicle, he’ll just fly.

You shut the door behind you and lock it, boosting up the box between your arms so it wouldn’t fall. You turn around and almost drop the box at the right.

Clark.

A messy-haired, tilted glasses, and loosened tie Clark, it’s a pretty good sight, but, not for now. You’re upset, and you don’t even wish to look at him. You stare at him in silence, a small frown forming on your face, you walk down the 5 steps and open the trunk of your car.

“____.” He calls out your name, but you still stay silent. “___, you know I’m not here for no reason. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“Didn’t think you’d care.” You reply dryly, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

“What? What would make you think that? Of course I’d care!” he says as if it were common sense, which, it was, but you elected to pretend it wasn’t. You give him a look and close the trunk. You are about to walk past him, but he blocks your path. “Were… were you seriously leaving without saying goodbye?” His tone is soft, delicate, and sad. Your nose flares, you look down and take in a breath.

“Clark. Move, please.” You sniffle. “I have to go home.”

You hear Clark scoff. “Home? This is your home. Here. Metropolis. With us.” You chuckle and shake your head.

“Us? As in Lois, Jimmy, you and I? You were never my family, my real family is in Nevada, and that’s where I’m headed right now, so don’t stand in my way.” You move past him, but yet again he blocks your path.

“I can’t let you do this. And you sound selfish.” You look up at him, glossy eyes reflecting off of his. “I…” there it is, losing his words, the same effect that has happened for the past 2 years. Eye contact = Clark losing his words. “I…” he trails off, your eyebrows furrow. “I can’t let you leave. Not without saying goodbye.” You laugh dryly. Is that all he had to say? You thought to yourself, basically on the verge of tears.

You lick your lips and you fake a smile. “Goodbye, Clark.” He looks down at you, his hands held high, urging you to touch your skin, but, he doesn’t move, he stands there, in silence. “That all?” Silence. “Thought so.” You move past him, but he delicately puts both his hands on each of your arms.

“No. That isn’t all.” He speaks, with the gentle and soothing voice that gave you many butterflies, and still does. His touch on your skin burns like the day first day he approaches you, every brush of his fingers lighting wildfires beneath your flesh. “I haven’t been completely truthful with you, and I know I shouldn’t be like that, especially with someone like you.” You take steps back, now you stand in front of him. “Please, look at me.” He says, but you keep looking down until he whispers your name; you swore it was the breeze that called to you. The whisper was so quiet—something that within the New York buzz would be inaudible, but, you caught it.

You look up with, a soft expression, shiny and watery eyes. Clark’s heart skips a beat at the sight. God, he admired your beauty—but he hated seeing you like this.

“Not only have I been lying to you… I’ve been lying to myself.” He trails off, takes a breath, and fiddles with his shaky hands. “For the longest time, I thought that if I hid my feelings from you, I could be able to live fine, but in reality, I know my life would be better with you in it. I never told you how I felt because, for some reason, I knew you’d never focus on someone like me.”

“Someone like you? Clark—“You begin, but he cuts you off.

“No, please, let me finish.” Your eyebrows knit themselves together, and you nod softly. “I didn’t want this. God, I tried so hard not to want this. I thought that you could just be someone I could admire from afar and then forget. But somewhere between pretending I didn’t care and lying to myself every time I looked at you, it happened. I fell in love with you.” He takes breathes in a shaky breath, he holds his hands together as he watches your expression closely. “A—and, maybe you’ll laugh. Maybe you’ll walk away. Maybe you’ll pity me—and I think that would be the worst of all—” You shake your head and take a step forward closer to him, but he backs away. “But I can’t carry this secret any longer. It’s eating me alive.”

Your teary eyes stared down at his, which were now just as glossy as yours, he looked away from you because if he spent one more second looking at your heavy-hearted face, he’d fall apart.

You sniffle and wipe away your fallen tears. You step closer to him, and although he doesn’t back away, he doesn’t look at you, but your warm, familiar touch brings him back. You place your hand above his cheek and turn his head to face you. You give him a smile and his face softens. You get on your tip toes to embrace him, to which he quickly wraps his arms around your body. His head dips in the crane of your neck, and he gently lifts you off the ground.

You wrap your finger between his locks and hold him tighter, getting a whiff of his scent. She closes her eyes and feels a single tear roll down her cheek which she wipes away rapidly.

None of you want to break the hug, the same hug that has lasted about 2 minutes now, your bodies have grown accustomed to each other, and they don’t want to fall apart, but, the first one to make the difficult decision is you. But, you don’t exactly retract your arms, and neither does Clark, he doesn’t set you back down on the ground—you just stare into each other’s eyes.

Your hand hovers over his face, urging to caress his skin—your noses brush against each other, and your foreheads touch. You close your eyes, your lips inching closer painfully slow. You inhale a slow breath before Clark leans in and kisses you, his lips soft on yours, your lips respond by kissing him back. Just as your bodies—your lips grow accustomed to each other in the small time you share—but, the time spent craving them has added to the desire—a desire fulfilled.

Slowly, but not taking his lips off of yours, Clark sets you down on the ground. He caresses your cheek and smiles.

“Please, let me come with you to Nevada, we can take care of your mom together.” His thumb traces over your cheekbone and you sniffle, then lick your lips. “Together.” You grab onto his wrists and nod. He smiles and places a quick peck on your lips. “Now that we’re here…” he whispers. You tilt your head. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” Your forehead creases and he chuckles embarrassingly. You watch as he takes off his glasses and he adjusts himself. “I’m Superman.”

❛ how can i just let you walk away? just let you leave without a trace? when i stand here taking every breath with you. ❜

[eunandonly]

BOYNEXTDOOR WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP ON THEM

you just feel like home to me, soft and cosy and so very peaceful ─── that my guard started slipping before i even noticed

'𝐸 . boynextdoor + fem. reader 1199 · friends to lovers fluff reactions ୨୧ skinship, unestablished relationship archive

은혜 : this is the first work i'm posting after a good month or so >< i've been so busy with exams and other things but i pulled through and wrote this during a period that freed up during school!! it's not my best work, but i hope you guys still enjoy!! i'll try my best to be more active ~

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

myung jaehyun

jaehyun talks when he’s nervous. which is why your study session has mostly been him filling the silence with scattered thoughts about how unfair the history exam was, how the teacher stole his phone just because his alarm rang and how one of your classmates cheated but he “won’t name names.”

at some point though, he realises that you’ve stopped replying. he glances to his side. you’re slumped slightly forward, your arm bent beneath your head, fast asleep beside your open textbook and notes.

“you’re actually sleeping,” jaehyun mutters, his lips jutting out the slightest bit. “did i bore you that much?”

still, jaehyun shifts, shrugging his hoodie off to gently drape it over your shoulders. he pauses for a second before pulling it snug around you, careful not to wake you before sitting back, blinking down at his untouched question booklet.

he frowns.

“could’ve told me if i was boring you,” he mumbles, but his words don’t have bite. “and i don’t know what these questions mean.”

he doesn’t even pretend to study anymore. he just sits beside you, flipping your pen between his fingers and watching you breathe like it’s the most interesting thing he’s seen. you’ll definitely be mad when you wake up to see all the unanswered questions in his book, but that’s a problem for another time. 

park sungho

you’ve been holed up at your usual corner booth, textbooks and half finished drinks scattered across the table. sungho’s voice had been the only constant. low, steady, teasing you every so often when you lost focus mid sentence, probably because you hadn’t slept in a good day and a half.

“you always make me carry the conversation,” sungho mutters, nudging your cup closer.

but you didn’t reply. he turns towards you, sarcasm loaded, and then stops cold.

your head is resting on your folded arms, face buried against the sleeve of your sweater. you’re fast asleep, the kind of sleep that only comes after fighting it for way too long.

“seriously?” he mumbles. “you fall asleep on me of all people?”

sungho leans back in the booth, tipping his head against the cushion, and sighs. “you’re lucky i like you,” he says quietly, glancing at your peaceful face.

when your shoulder slumps a little, he instinctively reaches out to steady you, arm looping behind you without thinking. his hand brushes your back once, like he’s checking to see if you’re real. or maybe he’s just making sure you’re still breathing after he saw you take three cans of red bull yesterday afternoon,

lee sanghyuk

you’re both sitting on a park bench after school, your backpacks between you, the sky turning pink and orange with sunset. the conversation had gradually faded into a comfortable kind of silence, only interrupted occasionally by the rustle of the leaves from the tree above you and a chirping of summer birds.

riwoo had noticed your head tilting slowly, your eyes fluttering shut. but he didn’t expect you to actually fall asleep on his shoulder.

he freezes. “wait are you–” he tilts his head slightly and you don’t move. “are you seriously sleeping?”

he can feel your breath against his neck, and for a while, he just stares forward, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

he tries his best not to read into it and fails completely. you murmur something in your sleep–unintelligible–the type of thing he could definitely spin into something he can tease you with.

riwoo pulls his hoodie sleeve over his hand and adjusts your head carefully so you don’t wake up with a nasty neck cramp. he looks away as he does it, face a little red.

“this doesn’t mean i like you or anything,” he mutters.

“okay. maybe a little.”

han dongmin

you’d been whisper bickering over a shared study worksheet, hunched over a table with you pencils and passive aggressive sticky notes, when you energy finally ran out. as it should, that’s what taesan thinks–you’ve been giving his snarky remarks for a good hour now. taesan caught the change in your posture first, how your pen slowed and your head dipping.

he glances over, annoyed, ready to make a cocky comment, only to see you completely out, your cheek resting on your folded arms, dangerously close to his elbow.

“you’re not serious,” he mutters under his breath. “you’re not actually sleeping when he have a project due–”

you shift slightly in your sleep, your knee nudging his under the table. taesan swallows, blinking down at you sleeping and exhales like it physically hurts him.

he sits there for a while, stiff and unblinking before he finally reaches over, so slowly it’s almost ridiculous, and slides his hoodie off to drape it gently over your shoulders.

you stir, but don’t wake. his hoodie’s big on you, and he looks away immediately, jaw clenched and face burning.

when a classmate passes by and sees, raising an eyebrow, taesan mutters about how “it’s not what it looks like.”

kim donghyun

you’d gone up to the school rooftop to escape the cafeteria noise, as usual, leehan in following with two bottles of pocari and that calm look in his eyes. 

he notices how your replies start getting shorter, your eyes heavier.

when you nod off beside him, your head gently bumping his shoulder, he almost doesn’t react. leehan just blinks. looks down at you. Blinks again.

then–the faintest smile.

he doesn’t move. doesn’t flinch. he just watches the wind pull a strand of your hair across your cheek and reaches out, brushing it back with the lightest touch.

“you should sleep more,” he murmurs, voice quiet. “not just here.”

his shoulder shifts slightly, adjusting so you’re resting more comfortably. you don’t stir. leehan watches your brows furrow in your sleep, the way the corners of your lips twitch. you look pretty in the summer sunlight. 

“i’ll wake you before lunch ends.”

but he never does.

kim woonhak

the game controller slips from your hand mid-match.

“hey, y/n?” woonhak turns, expecting you to be annoyed at his overkill win. instead, he sees you curled up on the couch, face buried against a pillow, your legs tangled in the blanket you’d been fighting over minutes ago.

he blinks. grins.

“seriously?” he whispers.

he carefully sets your controller down, then kneels beside the couch to check if you’re faking. “if this is some kind of trap because i triple headshotted you because i'm just too good–” he leans closer. sees the even rise and fall of your chest. the softness of your expression. 

he tugs the blanket over you, then just sits there. watching you sleep. thinking about when exactly the friendship between you two got this comfortable. he also thinks about how well he did in the last match, too bad you fell asleep before he could rub it into your face. then he gets up and tiptoes to the kitchen, returning with your favourite snack. he places it beside you like some kind of offering.

“i’ll eat mine now,” he says quietly. “you can have yours when you wake up.”

he pauses for a second.

“you really should’ve seen my kill just now.”

[melondecarabia]

⋆˙⟡ jabberwock nsfw headcanons 

minors and ageless blogs dni! 

fem reader 

authors note: jabberwock is so silly

tw: SEX! breeding kink? and breeding kink!

smut under the cut! 

haru 

HE'S A SLUT!!!!!! or was, before jabberwock's animals and being peekaboo's single mom took up all his time. now he's a slut for you! 

definitely a switch vers, but does like to be submissive whenever possible. being dominant would require brainpower, which he oftentimes simply cannot spare. if he does dom though, he does his absolute best! 

i think he has a below average size dick. but boy howdy does he make it work! it has a bright red tip when he's sensitive, so pretty much at all times. just a touch to it has him whimpering and squirming. he also has a strange amount of stamina even after a long day of working… how does he do it?? 

as for the hair… do you really think he has the time to keep it short? nah, he rocks a full bush and shaves it all off whenever he has some time for self care (which isn't very often). haru with a happy trail though <3 

he likes getting pegged. getting a handjob at the same time though? his remaining sanity shatters and he's reduced to a moaning and crying puddle of sweat, tears, and cum. he absolutely gets louder than necessary, on purpose too. 

haru often jokes about you two being parents to peekaboo. he jokingly calls you mommy, but at some point? it stops being a joke. so yeah, haru with a mommy kink. 

if you overstimulate him enough while pegging him, he shortcircuits and cries about you getting him pregnant. please just let him have this, he's stressed and broke, let him fantasize about… whatever that is for a moment. 

haru gets horny whenever he's properly fed! bringing him a homemade bento might result in a quickie. he sloppily eats you out and thanks you for the meal with a flushed grin. now he'll have to change his clothes due to a large wet spot on the crotch though… 

he would only have sex in a place where the anomalies can't see. so, most often his or your bedrooms, or perhaps in the bath if he wants to spice things up. 

please take care of this man after sex. he might fall asleep during it, but giving him a small spa session and a proper meal will make his week, and he's falling even deeper in love. also might (actually most likely will) get horny again. 

towa 

he believes in soulmates, so i think he's a virgin that saved himself for you! if you have any experience before him, no you don't <3 

he's dominant. not intentionally though? it's tough to tell, but i do know that he's the worst menace to date. he's walking around campus with a boner, looking for you whenever he's in the mood for making love. 

speaking of that, his dick is pretty average length, maybe a bit longer, but good lord it's thick. i mean, towa with the coke can dick sounds pretty scary to me idk about you guys. it's also very veiny, starkly contrasting with the whole whimsical fairy aesthetic he's got going on. it does fit him well though. 

hairwise, he's very hairy! can you imagine explaining trimming to him? you want him to put something sharp near his love rod (that's what he calls his penis and no, you can't get him to stop)? don't be silly, dandelion. also appreciates hair on you. he eats plants and bushes are included in that. 

towa's constantly horny, and i think the stag theme in episode 12 fits him well because… well, he's nearly taken out a dozen people (ed has been electrocuted several times) for getting too close to you, simply because he doesn't quite understand how not everyone sees you as the most fuckable creature to ever exist. 

i also think towa is just straight up feral. he would have sex in front of everyone on campus, but he doesn't want other people to see you so vulnerable. having other people hear you from behind a door though? he wouldn't mind, especially if it's someone he dislikes and he knows they like you. it would be easy to convince him to go somewhere private though if you're not comfortable. 

hmmm... soft sex on a sunny day, underneath a flowering tree, far from anyone else... just the two of you on a soft blanket... thinking hard... i'm hard.

i don't think he's particularly loud? he lets out soft moans and groans, and compliments you often, but he's not very noisy. 

also has the most prominent breeding kink! towa pouts if he cums anywhere other than inside you, even if you won't get pregnant anyway. 

he also likes marathon sex. pinning you down with his body, clinging onto your waist as he languidly ruts even deeper… he can go for hours. encouraging you, calling you sweet names and licking your tears of overstimulation… ough 

towa does his best with aftercare, and fulfills all your requests. he needs to keep his soulmate happy and healthy after all! 

ren 

VIRGIN ALERT!!!!!!! i think he'd appreciate someone who knows what to do though, because he doesn't know anything about anything. 

he often fantasizes about taking the reigns, drowning you in pleasure like in those h-doujins he reads. he can't do that in real life though, as any and all coherent thoughts get deepfrozen the moment you take off your shirt. so, submissive ren! please don't tease him too much. 

ren has a strong sex drive, but is way too shy to initiate about 99/100 times. so, he masturbates to your pictures every other day! most of them are just innocent selfies, but if you send a nude? that's going to the secret folder on his computer, deep where haru can't find. he will guard that file with his damn life. 

ren's dick is pretty big! he doesn't know how to use it at all though. it looks pretty normal, and he tries to keep himself trimmed, but he's scared. what if he like, cuts it off??? 

he thought his stamina is godly for a long time, but quickly realized his hand is nothing compared to actual pussy when he first has sex with you. tries his best to hold it in, but he cries very easily due to being overwhelmed with pleasure. 

he's unintentionally loud, and wants to be quiet, but… he can't help whimpering and groaning. gaslights you if you mention it to him. 

omg… instructing him on how to masturbate… calling him good boy when he stops just before cumming… 

or perhaps letting him suck on your boobs while giving him a handjob? a reward for his hard work, all stress and annoyance melting away… he whimpers as you talk about how he did such a great job all day. 

one day, he buys a catgirl maid outfit for you, complete with a special tail… it turns out too big for you. so you make him wear it! he complains, saying it's embarrassing, but he does get off being called cute and pretty. 

ren only wants to have sex at your place, because if haru heard either one of you, he would have to riot. and that's way too much work. 

gets jealous so easily. leaves hickeys all over you, but in places where no one can actually see, because that's embarrassing. gets flustered if you leave any marks on him too. 

aftercare? he brought over some snacks and drinks, and plays some awfully made horror movies from the laptop he brought. he really likes basking in the afterglow, catching up on his list with you, in peace. 

[diner-girl]

can’t sleep

dean winchester x reader

about 750 words

a/n: i wrote this in the middle of the night because i couldn't sleep…so sorry if it’s shit LMAO this was the first thing i’ve been able to convince myself to post

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you roll over for what feels like the thousandth time, flopping back down onto the bed with an annoyed huff, the shitty motel mattress letting out a few soft squeaks. you glance over at the small clock on the bedside table. 1:14am.

you had been trying and trying, but sleep just would not come. no matter how many times you adjusted to try and get comfortable, you just couldn’t. your growing anger certainly wasn’t helping either.

dean was fast asleep beside you, sprawled out across the bed. he seemed to have this natural ability to be able to fall asleep anytime, anywhere, no matter what. his chest rose and fell gently with each breath as he slept peacefully, probably dreaming about pie or something like that. it wouldn’t have surprised you. you buried your face into the pillow and let out a muffled groan.

after what felt like an hour (but to your dismay you realised had only actually been ten minutes), you abandoned all hopes of getting any sleep.

so you carefully got out of bed and walked over to the small table across the room. the pale moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains covering the window, illuminating the motel room in soft silver light. you sat down on one of the chairs and opened dean’s laptop. ignoring the concerning amounts of porn, you started scanning some news websites, trying to find a new potential case or any strange occurrences, even just an interesting article to distract yourself with until morning. nothing. of course. just your luck. the one time you want something supernatural to be happening, nothing is. you leaned your elbows on the table and rested your head in your hands, groaning in defeat.

“what are y’doing?” dean’s voice, deep and sleepy, snaps you out of your thoughts. you look over at him. he’s propped up on one arm, squinting at you, still half asleep. his hair was spiky and sticking up everywhere, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

“nothing, go back to sleep.” you reply. dean rubs his eyes and yawns.

“you sleep, i’ve been sleeping.” he mumbles, looking over at the clock. “it’s almost two am, sweetheart. have you slept at all?”

you shake your head.

“nope. can’t.” you mutter, eyes flicking back to the laptop screen with a dark look, your anger creeping back.

“c’mere.” dean stretched an arm out across your side of the bed. you glanced over at him and smiled.

you close the laptop and get up, walking back over to the bed and flopping down onto it, climbing back under the covers. dean wraps his arm around you, pulling you against his side and resting your head against his chest.

“there.” he grinned at you, gently stroking your hair before sliding his hand down to rest on your hip, holding you against him.

the feeling of dean’s arm around you was comforting, the gentle drum of his heartbeat helping you ease into a more relaxed mood.

“something on your mind, darling?” he asks softly, voice still gruff and sleepy. he gently ran his thumb up and down your hip where his hand rested. a comforting gesture, and you sighed contentedly with a small smile.

“no...nothing new anyway,” you mumble softly, “just can’t sleep sometimes.” you throw an arm over dean and nestle against him more.

he nods slowly. “yeah, i know the feeling."

“liar. you fall asleep so easily.” you laugh softly, lightly tracing small circles across his chest with your fingertips.

dean let out a soft chuckle, looking down at you. he brought his free hand up to lace his fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “alright, maybe i do. you can always wake me up if you can’t sleep, darling. i don’t want you to have to be up by yourself.”

your smile grows at his words, heart warming instantly. “thank you, dean. i really appreciate that.” you reply softly.

“try go to sleep now, okay? i need you sharp for the case in the morning.” dean told you, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head.

you hum a response, tightening your arm around dean and closing your eyes. he was warm and comfortable, and you felt a feeling of calm and tiredness wash over you. dean whispered little compliments and sweet nothings to you as you slowly drifted off to sleep, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before falling asleep himself.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[sparrows4bats]

love all ur jondami stuff!! very sweet, i love how you write them as so ride or die for each other, peak supersons. as for a random jondami headcanon i had this thought pop into my head recently:

damian needs glasses (lots of head trauma his whole life) and usually wears pretty nice ones as he gets older and less self conscious about needing them. but then for some reason he loses his good ones and has to wear the backup pair. they are totally clunky, heavy and hard to break. essentially clark kent glasses.

jon is at first delighted to get to tease damian about them, cuz hah now dames has to wear thick glasses like the fake ones he had as a kid. but then he actually sees damian in the glasses and some damian pulls them off!? jon is so annoyed because of course damian looks good in those clunky glasses. that’s why his cheeks are red, because he’s angry. not because damian looks good like that. not at all.

Thank you!! I have one rule in life if they aren't Morticia and Gomez levels of obsessed with each other, what is the point.

And you are absolutely correct! @ghostly-bat writes about Jon being so upset about how attractive Damian is, and I think it is very accurate.

I think the glasses thing is hilarious because Jon would love to tease Damian about his new nerdy appearance, but the man still looks like a freaking supermodel!

Jon has to come to terms with some truths about himself very quickly.

When he and Damian start dating, he is much more appreciative of Damians' inhuman ability to look good in everything because he can do something about it.

But before, when Jon is pining and trying to suppress his crush on his best friend, he would hate it!

Because he can't focus, he can't look at Damian without being a blushing fool.

The worst part is that Damian has no idea what he is doing to people. If he did, he would exploit it a lot more.

It gets so bad that Kon, Kara, and his Dad have stopped listening to his heartbeat after the third time Damian makes it skip three beats.

They do tease him a lot, though.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

(I write at least 250 words on the topic of your choice each time my musical audio drama kickstarter hits another 10%. We've actually reached 100% so thank you so much! That said, if we hit 115% we'll have the funds to buy some mics so that we can cast actors who don't have a good sound setup; the Kickstarter is very much still going until 11 am ET this Saturday. I currently owe three pieces, including this one, and hopefully I will owe a fourth, so if you've got prompts, let 'em fly!)

The corners of Enjolras's lips flickered upwards for a moment, which Grantaire caught because he was watching Enjolras's mouth a normal and reasonable amount.

"You don't know what I am," Enjolras said at last.

Grantaire took a drag on his cigarette. "Hopefully not the triangles thing, because I'd still kinda want to hook up with you and I don't want to hurt myself on the corners."

It was so bold, Grantaire almost took it back. He imagined sucking back in the words, along with the cloud of smoke trailing his exhale. There had to be a limit to how obvious he could be without making Enjolras book it out of there. But Enjolras seemed to barely react to that part. Instead, he frowned.

"I suppose that explains why you were willing to be alone with me," said Enjolras, almost to himself.

"Yeah?" said Grantaire, who was rapidly losing purchase on this conversation, and was about to forfeit even more of a grip because Enjolras flashed his teeth just then.

His teeth, which included a set of unusually long and sharp canines.

"Oh," Grantaire said, "You're a vampire."

Everything clicked into place then. The seriousness, the quick movements, the man-out-of-time method of flirting. Grantaire had assumed Enjolras had arrived at the party without a costume, but clearly this was not the case. Enjolras, apparently, was cosplaying a creature of the night with an almost mindbending degree of versimilitude.

Did Grantaire have the self-respect not to jump into bed with some kind of rabid Anne Rice fanboy? He took in another lungful of tobacco smoke, mullling this over. Breathed out, still mulling.

Grantaire had met people this intense about their hobbies before, but Enjolras seemed otherwise like a decent enough guy, and on some level, Grantaire could appreciate that much commitment to a bit. The funniest thing Grantaire could think to do was to go along with it, and in the absence of another North Star, he ventured onto the swampy territory of a "yes-and."

"Well," said Grantaire, "I once drunkenly hooked up with the head of the campus young Republicans, so in comparison, what's another bloodsucker, you know?"

Enjolras blinked. It was a slow blink, like a cat, and also like a cat, there was something slightly predatory in the motion. Grantaire would've been weirded out if he hadn't just learned that it was all part of an elaborate, like, Nosferatau kayfabe.

"In my defense, I didn't realize he was a Republican until the next morning," Grantaire added into the silence, "when I could actually see what books he had on his nightstand. I'd been like, 'yay, he's literate!' but turns out there's worse things." He shuddered. So much Jordan Peterson…

"You truly don't mind?" said Enjolras slowly.

"Wait," said Grantaire, "you're not a Republican, too, are you? Eponine would never let me live it down. Uh, quick, what's your stance on—" He plucked an issue from the air. "—unions?"

"Man's only hope is to organize and fight," Enjolras said gravely.

"Right on," said Grantaire, relief sweeping through his nervous system in a giddy wave. "Solidarity forever and all—" He broke off because Enjolras was staring at him. Or specifically, at his neck.

You really had to hand it to the guy: he was dedicated to his weird play-pretend.

"Let me guess," Grantaire said, "you're hungry."

If you are still taking Halloween fic requests:

Member of a monster-themed novelty band Grantaire x Actual Vampire Enjolras

oh HELL YEAHHHHHH

i'd apologize for the ensuing silliness but you can probably gather that is a hallmark of the fledgling "monster-themed novelty band x actual literal monster" genre. this is part one; i may write more tomorrow

“Grantaire,” Joly panted, “come quick, it’s a party emergency!”

Grantaire, who might as well have lived inside a glass case labeled BREAK IN CASE OF PARTY EMERGENCY, flipped himself right side up from where he’d been about to attempt a keg stand, and nodded solemnly, clapping his hands together. The blood rushed back to his head in a giddy wave.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Joly nodded at Bossuet to explain as the three of them barreled down the hallway.

“Here’s the thing,” said Bossuet, “we hired a band tonight, but the lead singer got way too high and now he thinks he needs to liberate all the notes from his guitar.”

Grantaire cocked his head to one side. “Does that explain why someone’s spent the past hour loudly and determinedly playing scales?”

“I don’t pretend to understand the inebriate’s mind!” Joly shouted, gesticulating wildly. The effect was slightly undercut by the bottle of gin in his hand.

“Point is,” said Bossuet, still walking at an almost-run, “we already rounded up Eponine and Bahorel. We need you guys to take the stage and salvage what’s left of tonight. C’mon, Bahorel says your sound is really getting there.”

“We’re not a band,” Grantaire insisted. “We’re a support group that keeps getting noise violations. We’ve never even played a gig.” He knew he probably sounded whiny but it had been a long week. His minimum possible math requirement was kicking his ass. “Besides, I had plans for tonight. I was gonna get laid.” Or at least, he was going to do his damnedest. Believe in yourself. Manifest your dreams. No I in team.

Bossuet simultaneously peered at Grantaire and pulled him through a door. “Is that why you’re dressed as…god, I don’t know, what do you call all this?”

“I thought he was an Animorph,” announced Joly. “Like, at a midpoint in the transformation to some kind of hairy animal.”

Grantaire coughed.

“Sorry,” said Joly easily. “A Sexy Mid-Transformation Animorph.”

“Shit, take in some culture once in a while, this is embarrassing,” said Grantaire. He gestured at the wolf ears on his headband, the fur glued to the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, the canine nose he’d drawn over his own with Eponine’s eyeliner pencil, the strategically ripped shirt and jeans. “I’m a Sexy Wolfman,” he said. “Obviously.”

He and Eponine, who had watched Ginger Snaps every day for the past month, had agreed to go as a pair of werewolves, but then Eponine had abandoned their pack of two to go make out with Cosette, which he really should’ve seen coming. He couldn’t even hold it against her; Eponine had been “casually” memorizing Cosette’s general weekly schedule for the past couple of semesters, when she wasn’t watching Cosette moony-eyed from the other side of the Quad. It was all probably very cute.

“Well, Wolfman,” said Bossuet, nudging Grantaire in the direction of the makeshift stage, where Bahorel was taking a seat behind the drums and Eponine was—reluctantly, by the look of it—re-tuning her borrowed bass. “You three have about thirty seconds to think of a band name.”

Grantaire picked up the electric guitar and raised his eyebrows at Eponine, whose lupine makeup was now marred by bright red lip marks, like something from a cartoon. Her own lips were smeared crimson, which was to be expected, but.

“She stopped to kiss you multiple times on the cheek?” he muttered.

“Shut up,” said Eponine, visibly blushing. “How’s your quest for a meaningless hookup?”

Grantaire let out a long breath. “Not even the furries are biting,” he admitted as Eponine snickered.

“Band names, people,” said Bahorel. He adjusted a cymbal. “I don’t have all night.”

“Hello,” Grantaire intoned into the microphone. “We are Not Even the Furries Are Biting! This first song—”

“Gonna kill you and make it look like an accident,” Eponine crooned low in his ear. “The embarrassing kind. Toilet-related.”

The thing was, in their capacity as a very loud sort-of group therapy session, with October 31st on the horizon, they had actually been talking about the appeal of wolves as a metaphor for the parts of oneself that felt wild or lonely or unlovable. To that effect, they’d been toying with a couple songs.

Maybe, thought Grantaire, this would not be a complete and total clusterfuck.

They played “I was a Teenage Werewolf” by The Cramps. They played “I’m The Wolf Man” by Round Robin. They played “Werewolf” by The Frantics. Any time he, Bahorel, or Eponine ran into a snag—a fumbled note, a missed beat, a patch that wasn’t perfectly memorized—Grantaire attempted to cover for them by throwing back his head and wailing, as if he was losing more and more of his grip on his humanity.

They were just finishing the first verse of The Black Keys’ “Howling for You” when Grantaire saw him: a tall, handsome stranger lingering at the back edge of the room, with intense eyes and an even more intense air of stone-cold sobriety. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t frowning, just—looking. Disapprovingly? Apathetically? Saddled with a bad case of heartburn? It was hard to tell.

The chorus started up, and Grantaire sang along with Eponine and Bahorel:

“Da da da da da, da da da da da da—”

Grantaire grinned as more and more of the crowd joined in—pulled along less by the band’s general prowess or charisma and more by a drunk college student’s inherent love of an easy earworm, but Grantaire wasn’t splitting hairs at this point.

“Da da da da da, da da da da da—”

A sea of bobbing, singing partygoers, and there on the fringes, Offensively Sober Guy stood perfectly still, watching Grantaire so intently that Grantaire almost forgot the words to the refrain.

Or rather, the word.

Or rather, the single repeating syllable.

To Offensively Sober’s left, two guys attempted to clink their beer bottles together and somehow lost their balance, careening into him. He maintained his impeccable posture as if they weren’t even in the room, never breaking his stare. It was honestly a little creepy.

For reasons Grantaire would later not be able to fully reconstruct, he decided the funniest thing to do would be to wink and smirk and generally pretend like Sober was really, really into him.

[melocomma]

dead of night

pairing: pro hero! bakugou x reader

cw: drinking, smoking, stalking

authors note: definitely gonna make a part two for this, it got a little long lol.

Crisp night air hits your skin as you stumble out of The Basement, an underground night club you’ve used to fuel your most recent drunken endeavors. While the music wasn’t great, you’re grateful that they’re one of the only clubs nearby that can actually make a good shirley temple. Distantly you can hear the faint sounds of your friends calling after you, no doubt tired of your wondering legs taking you anywhere but their line of sight. You mutter an “I’ll be back soon!”, but the second the sentence slips past your lips, you forget the notion entirely.

You’re bubbly tonight, all sweet smiles and giggles as you walk past strangers in the night. A distant voice in the back of your head says not a good idea, and a more sober, less wrecked version of you might’ve listened. But tonight you’re wandering again, and you’ll no doubt face the consequences tomorrow.

You pass a store window, checking your appearance in the minimal reflection. To your credit, you still look a little put together. Lipgloss only slightly smeared, tank top and mini skirt still unwrinkled.

You walk a few more blocks, hopping over crushed glass and avoiding leering glances from men twice your age.

Thank God for muscle memory, is all you can think as you suddenly decide you’d like to go home, and your feet almost automatically know the way. Through several twists and turns down the alleys of your city, you marvel at the night sky and the few stars you can see through the city’s lights.

“Keep on staring up at the sky like an idiot, you’re gonna bump into something.”

The voice shocks you out of your daze, and your eyes are darting around, trying to find the source of the rough voice that suddenly ruined your nice night. They land on a tall figure; broad shoulders, heavy equipment hanging off of him, huge blonde hair. Pro Hero. The news had said a pro hero from Japan would be patrolling here for a few months, hadn’t they? He looks like the man from the TV, and you know if you really tried you could remember his name.

He snaps his fingers in your face, and you realize you’ve been staring silently for way too long. “Are you high or something? Do you need to be escorted home?”

Fuck. You cannot afford a citation right now. “Uh, sorry, I’m just a little spacey from work. Long day, y’know how it is. And no, I don’t need one, thank you!”

You’re hurriedly trying to brush past him, almost falling flat on your ass in the process. He catches you by your elbow, helping steady you with a firm hand. He smells good, like cinnamon sugar and incense. If you weren’t high before, you definitely are now.

Oh, his name is right on the tip of your tongue! What is it?

“Dynamight! That’s your name, right? You’re here for the national hero conference?” You’re smiling up at him, happy that you’d figured out your little challenge.

The look disappears as quickly as it comes, but you swear you can see a hint of pride on his face at being recognized by a foreigner. “Yeah, yeah. And you smell like a liquor store. You’re not walking home by yourself.”

He leaves no room for arguments, and as you look down the dark alleyway, you realize your apartment is a lot further than your intoxicated brain had anticipated. So you lead the way.

The walk is quiet for awhile, until Dynamight speaks, obviously uncomfortable with your spaced-out silence. “What made you wanna walk home this late? It’s not like this city doesn’t have public transportation.”

You could tell him the truth; that your intoxicated brain hadn’t even thought about the convenient idea. But, you weirdly feel the urge to not sound stupid in front of the hero, so you reply “I wanted to look at the stars tonight. Appreciate the little things y’know?”

He snorts. “You wouldn’t have been able to do that if you were dead.”

You stop in your tracks, thrown off by the crude response. “Excuse me?” He rolls his red eyes like you said something stupid, like he hadn’t flippantly brought up the subject of your death.

“Some fucker had been following you. I don’t know how long, but after I noticed it was at least 4 blocks.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “No way. You’re kidding, night?”

He shrugs, “I don’t care if you believe me or not. I took care of it.”

“How didn’t I hear it?” You’re puzzled, your genuine confusion mixing with the substances in your system. Dynamight urges you to keep walking with a gentle pat to your back, and you do. “I didn’t train for years to not be fuckin quiet, and besides, he wasn’t close enough for you to hear anything.” Something tells you he won’t give you any more information on the subject, so you drop it. “Well, thanks I guess. I definitely wouldn’t have been able to do my chem final if I was dead.”

You’ll deal with the existential dread of dodging death tomorrow, when you’re nursing a definite hangover. Right now, flirting with the handsome pro hero is at the top of your agenda. He’s pretty, you think, with long lashes and a sharp nose that juts out over his soft looking lips. His mask is pulled over his hair, and you’re grateful that you can see his eyes without the obscurity.

Dynamight looks you over, analyzing you almost. “You’re a college kid?” You flash a cheeky smile at him, waving your phone case that holds your student ID. “Yup, sophomore year actually. And I totally know the whole pro hero thing is uh-mazing, but you’re totally missing out on the college experience. Justtt saying.”

“What, drinking and getting high out of my mind? Yeah, no fuckin thanks.” You laugh, loud and ugly, completely out of your usual flirty giggle. “Wowww who knew Mr. Dynamight could be so uptight.”

The pro hero rolls his eyes and pushes your shoulder in a way that you’re sure is supposed to be playfully, but his strength works against him, and you’re stumbling forward almost two feet. “Hey! Know your own strength, asshole!” You feign anger, but your words are said through more laughs, and oh, he’s actually laughing with you! It’s a nice sight, you decide. His canines are sharp and his teeth are pearly white; he could totally be a model if he wanted to.

The rest of the walk is filled with low laughter and back-and-forth banter that, before tonight, you wouldn’t have thought you could accomplish with a stranger. You learn that Dynamight is 24, he hates mango, and he’s going to be here for the next 10 months to complete a new hero license requirement. He mentions a group of his friends being here as well, pro heroes of course. He doesn’t call them friends per se, but from the smile on his face when he talks about them, you can tell.

You’ve sobered up by the time you reach your apartment, and you find yourself not wanting the night to end. But Dynamight definitely has a long night ahead of him, and he has no time to spend it with a broke college student who totally had developed a crush on him in one night.

“Well, this is mine.” You stand at your door, smiling up at the man. You don’t want to leave him out there, don’t want to make him walk all the way back to his post all alone. Especially after he had changed your night so irrevocably. He makes a face at you, one that you think might hint at a smile? “Drink at least two cups of water before you lay down. And get some sleep.” You’re still smiling, probably looking at him like a love struck full. “Yeah, yes, of course. Thank you, Dynamight.” Your voice is soft with want, but you acquiesce.

He looks like he wants to say something, staring at you silently in the dark. But he doesn’t, so you give him a short hug, breathing in the cinnamon-spice scent of him, and you step into your home. “I really appreciate everything, good night Dynamight.”

“Bakugou.”

“Hm?”

“Bakugo is fine. Only like strangers calling me Dynamight. And goodnight, trouble.”

Before you can admonish him for the stupid nickname, he’s turned away, and you’re closing your door.

As you spend the rest of the night apologizing to your friends for wandering off once again, you can’t help but think about the blonde hero with the sharp tongue.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 73

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

Well, that could have probably gone better, you didn't expect Pearl to grab you like that and you definitely didn't that punch... And really, what an achievement it is, to anger wisdom incarnate... And It's not like she was wrong, you did get a bit too into it.

Not your wisest (eh) moment though, you gained almost nothing from it except for Santa Perla trusting you even less then before...and a punch to the face.

You walk home to your flat, the road back feels a lot longer but It's not that far away from the garden and you really don't want to teleport around right now. So you walk and as you walk you begin to think.

Things aren't as they seem, Pearl knows it and so do you. You definitely shouldn't have pushed her like that, It's like you were filled with emotion not yours. Maybe it was Pearl's... You are in front of your front door, you were so lost in thought you almost didn't notice.

Mumbo is home, that's another surprise, he sees you and immediately begins panicking, not unusual for Mumbo but you really don't know what he's panicking about.

"Grian!? What happened?"

You tilt your head to the side, what's that supposed to mean? Does he know?

"What do you mean?"

"Your face!? You're covered in blood??"

You are? ...oh! The punch... you forgot to fix that, did you walk around the city with a messed up face? Embarassing. Wait a second...Blood? You raise your hand to your face, there, there is blood dripping from your nose, you didn't notice at all.

"Oh It's... I hit my face. Hard."

"I can see that!?? How???"

For a supervillain Mumbo sure knows how to fret like a mother hen with her chicks... Actually, you don't like that comparison, you are billions of years older then him. He should be the baby chicken and you the mother- wait, no, you hate that too... You should fill his room with chickens.

"Grian!?! How did you hit your face???"

Huh? ... You got distracted, what was he saying?

...

Oh! Right, your nose. You need an excuse!

"I walked into a pole while distracted, I was looking at my phone, don't worry about it."

Wait, you left your phone at home this morning. You hope he didn't notice.

"Don't worry about it!? How- how did you even- how did a pole even manage to break your nose??"

It's broken? You can't tell. It's actually quite hard to see when you have only one pair of eyes and not billions. Still, broken? Just like that? Human bodies are so weak...

...Wait, Pearl broke your nose? Damn, that was a good punch.

"Don't worry, It's not too bad, doesn't really hurt"

"That's not- you can't possibly try to convince me that this doesn't hurt"

He motions wildly at your face, you don't really appreciate it. Then he looks as though he has an idea, then seems to reconsider it before sighing in defeat.

"F-follow me, I think I can help"

You do, you have no reason not to. You wonder where he's bringing you.

This is the secret lab.

The supervillain secret lab.

The supervillain secret lab ehere he works on all of his villain projects, where GRUMBOT is.

You have been here as Mother Spire multiple times but...he doesn't know that you're Mother Spore, you know that he doesn't, so what in the world is he doing dragging what he thinks is a civilian into his secret lair? You could look into his mind for 100% certainty but...eh, you don't really need to, you understand by just looking at him. He's panicking and your civilian persona has given him the impression you won't connect the dots. Still, you'll have to keep playing the part of the confused and dumb roomate.

"Where are we Mumbo?"

He doesn't answer, instead he takes out a liquid before handing it out to you.

"Grian? Can you hold this while I get something to help me fix your nose?"

You nod, he nods back and leaves to find some bandages...

So Mumbo does care about you, quite a bit considering the gamble he has just taken. Good, it might end up being very useful in the future.

And, if nothing else, it will be entertaining.

[synthetickitsune]

Siren!Seungkwan (SVT) | Accident angst | 0.9k | gn!reader cw: talks of cannibalism, diet mention -> mermay masterlist

It’s been two days now that you’ve been pointedly avoiding each other. And while it may be for the best, all things considered, it’s starting to eat away at you.

Most sailors know to take the loneliness of the sea seriously, most except the inexperienced ones. Which is precisely what you are - and a very unlucky one at that. 

The storm came faster than expected, the tides seemed to have turned against you. Honestly you were lucky to survive all that and with your rowboat in a functioning state too. You realized too late you’ve been too foolish and reckless. There really was no point in being cheap when you could easily pay with your life.

And then of course the whole issue at hand began. The siren’s song.

The first thing the siren did when you came to from under his spell was to inform you that you’re very lucky he’s trying to follow a healthy lifestyle and diet. The shock of the situation didn’t allow you to properly pay attention to the lecture he gave on the quality of different meats. Seungkwan, as you learned his name is, reacted about as well as anyone could when your semi-lucid self asked him if he just called you fat. The bickering only got worse from that point on. 

And here you are now. 

Not speaking. 

Because you refuse to thank him for not eating you. As if it wasn’t enough that you already thanked him for saving you and your boat. Mostly your boat. What good would be your life if you were stuck somewhere like this without it. Besides he told you himself that he didn’t eat you for his own benefit. How can he feel entitled to another expression of gratitude?

But it has been two days without a word from either of you. You think you’ll lose your mind if you keep on going like this. Even with the land on the horizon, you don’t think you’ll get there in time to save your sanity.

“So, um, where are we?” you hope to break the ice between you. No response.

“I really appreciate you helping me,” you try again, “You could’ve just left me there to get hunted by someone else. But you didn’t. Thank you.”

Still silence. You feel your eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

“Listen, I already thanked you enough, haven’t I?” you huff, “What more do you want? Money?”

Suddenly you’re thrown forward as the boat comes to an abrupt stop. You hit your head, your arm gets twisted under your body and you hiss in pain. So when you look up, you’re understandably pissed. So is Seungkwan.

“You’re unbelievable,” he scoffs, hands on his hips and tail swishing so furiously under the surface that the water splashes all the way to his chest. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What I get is that you’re being difficult,” you accuse, “I thanked you like a hundred different ways already.”

Only one of you was being unreasonable and it definitely wasn’t you. Stalemate is reached. You’re determined to win this staring contest. And you do.

“You really don’t get it,” he shakes his head with a defeated sigh, “Guess you have no way of knowing.”

You frown, lips pressed together. You don’t know him but you can read the room. Whatever is on his mind can’t be anything good. 

“I wasn’t even trying to pull you in, okay?” Seungkwan runs a hand through his hair, “You weren’t supposed to be there, nobody was.”

“But once you hear the song, there’s like, I don’t know, bond gets established,” he continues, looking progressively more… ashamed? Frustrated? Guilty? “You have no idea how hard it is to resist attacking a person like that. It changes something in us. The people taste so delicious you can’t get enough.”

Your stomach churns and it’s not with seasickness. For a second you think you’ll be sick, the sudden realization that the miracle that saved you was actually far from one hitting you like a train. Of course your survival has been dependent on Seungkwan’s kindness regardless, but it feels different now. 

“Oh,” is the only reaction that comes to mind.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. The ocean doesn’t allow for silence.

“Thank you for not eating me,” you eventually say. Maybe you should’ve just listened and saved yourself all this drama. 

“I told you I’m trying to stay healthy,” he waves you off but he seems pleased and in much better spirits. He also resumes your journey forward. The boat might have survived but your rows didn’t.

The silence is slightly more comfortable now. The new revelation is still eating at you though. 

“Do you… Do you still feel the pull?” you ask, playing with your hands to distract yourself. There’s not really much you could do to help him.

“Yes,” he admits after a moment of hesitation, “It’s weaker now. It makes no sense to stay fixated on a single prey for a long time.”

“So you’re still tempted to eat me?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. He scoffs.

“I’m not gonna do it,” he reminds you, “But you should be more careful next time.”

You definitely will. Maybe you won’t laugh at the old sailors telling stories in the pub next time. Maybe you’ll be more mindful of the weather and the sea too. At least it was only your confidence and ego that took the hit this time.

“Thank you,” you repeat yourself.

Seungkwan turns to look at you and gives you a wink that seems almost friendly.

You wonder if he told you the truth. Or if he’s always going to feel that temptation to find you and hunt you down. If you’ll see him in your dreams, chasing you through the dark water.