#Thanks so much for the prompt!

[wildcalendula]

Wilmon+

"Come back, right now!"

"Come back, right now!" Wille shot out his hand and just barely snatched the back of Simon's hoody before he could round the corner of their tiny kitchen island in their tiny, tiny - This is normal, Wille, maaaybee a little bit quaint, but welcome to the real world, this is how us commoners live - tiny kitchen.

Simon stumbled and almost took a header into the cupboard right next to them (see! tiny) but it also got Wille an arm full of squirming Simon who was still trying to keep the chocolate out of Wille's reach.

"No! You already ate most of it." Simon probably tried to sound a lot more forceful but he couldn't help but end on a breathless giggle when Wille used his hight advantage to curl around his back, dig his fingers into Simon's stomach and simultaneously go for the precious chocolate, now somewhat squished in Simon's hand.

Wille stilled, "Okay, wait, I'll share."

Simon turned his head, a suspicious furrow between his brows, "No, you won't."

"I will. For a kiss."

The tiny kitchen island at his back and a warm smile pressed to his mouth, Wille got exactly what he wanted.

[violetlunette]

@foxigirl

For this: https://violetlunette.tumblr.com/post/750101935997206528/i-saw-others-doing-it-so-i-thought-id-give-it-a#notes

Ah, my pure, honest, “straight” and true Silver! <3 I’ll try to summarize instead of rambling: I didn’t warm up to him at first as I thought his entire character revolved entirely around Malleus or Sebek, whom he was always grouped with it seemed. He seemed less like his own person and more of an accessory. The only reason I started giving him attention was because of Lilia, who I enjoyed. But then I got to know him—or as well as you can know a character. Instantly, I related to his feeling towards his father as I have a very close relationship with my parents and I experience the same fears Silver has. I love Silver’s personality. He’s kind, honest, sweet, polite, and one of the hardest workers of the cast. I love that while he’s loyal, he’s not blindly so. If Malleus or Lilia pulls shit he calls them out and puts his foot down, especially if it harms others. I’ve never liked the servant who’s blindly loyal and willing to toss the world aside just for their master’s / lover’s sake character, so Silver won my heart at the Endless Halloween Event when he called Malleus and Lilia out for not thinking things through and possibly endangering students. Malleus and Lilia are precious to him, but he knows they’re not the only people in the world. That’s one of the things I love most about him; Silver will do what’s morally right, regardless of what it costs him personally. That being said, he’s not suicidally self-sacrificing either. Silver values his life and defends it along with others. He’s only willing to lay it down when there’s no choice. He’s also one of the few characters in fiction whose obliviousness I don’t mind. I had to think on why this was so as this is a trait in Kalim that bothers me when otherwise find him cute. Then I realized it’s because Silver isn’t willfully ignorant like Kalim who tends to ignore things, even when they’re spelled out to him. Silver was raised isolated so it makes sense his social skills suck, but even then he’s not blind. 8/10 he can tell when he’s caused someone trouble and makes steps to amend it. The only case I can recall where he’s blatantly oblivious is in regards towards Leona’s feelings towards Malleus, but that’s due to his personal experience with Sebek who’s less than honest about his feelings. Otherwise when the truth is presented to him, he accepts it and adjusts. (Oof, if only more people were like that.) I like him as a “character,” as well. Silver has several interesting dilemma about him. As stated, Silver is one of the hardest working characters in the series as he is always training and does his best to study. However, due to his sleep spells, everyone believes he’s lazy and with no other explanation Silver is forced to accept this as well. It’s tragic because the audience knows it’s not his fault, but alas… His backstory is interesting too, more so than anyone else in my opinion, and it’s so heartwarming. He was born to people who did bad things against the ones he loves more than anything, and yet those same people overcame that hate and chose to love him instead. Speaking of which I adore his relationship with Lilia. These two fully encapsulates platonic true love, which we’re getting to see more and more. The relationship with the others are good too, but it’s Lilia and Silver that stole my heart. (His dynamic with Idia is fun as well. I’m sad we don’t get more moments of the two interacting in book 7, but I digress.) All in all, Silver’s my boi. He’s a just, honest and true knight who fits the title to a T.

[cobaltsoulsearcher]

For the writing game I shall say song #50 and any M9 member you'd like!

“Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” from the OBC of Hamilton, and Fjord Stone. Thanks so much!!!!!

It was always a matter of time. Half-orcs don’t live that much shorter lives than humans, but Beau has her monk magic and Yasha is celestially blessed and…yeah. It was always a matter of time. He had white hair in his twenties, after all. Just a streak, but…still.

He’s had far too many injuries in his life, and they all seem to be acting up at once, and as he find himself in the latter half of his sixties, his attempts to muscle through begin to fall short. It takes a few years for him to retire fully—passing on command of each of his ships, learning to let go of the piece of his heart each vessel holds—but he has his beautiful wife and their landlocked friends to return to. Beau still snickers every time he gets in touch with Lepaul, now the somewhat-competent captain of one of the smaller vessels.

They stay in Nicodranas for a while, and it is easier on his body. He plucks a half-dozen orphans from their surroundings straight to Wildemount Wildlings, which gives him purpose, for a while. It doesn’t hurt that Jester loves the camp and it’s chaos and he loves Jester. She shows her age too, but while Fjord has become thin and wiry and soft-skinned her wrinkles are complimented with stretch marks and she is rounder than Fjord has ever had a chance at being. It’s all the cupcakes and baking classes: old woman hobbies, he teases, despite the fact it has always been a part of her. Her hair is only beginning to silver, and his is full white. She can still pick him up, and often does, on the days the aches are worst. They get him a wheelchair, but he doesn’t use it often. His wife’s arms are usually enough to help him along.

But then he gets sick one winter, ordinary sick, and he never fully recovers. It’s…well. It was always a matter of time. He knows where he wants to die, and Cadeuceus has already made the Blooming Grove wheelchair accessible. Jester doesn’t come with him, and he respects that; these are her mother’s final years, too. But she visits often, and so do the others. Veth gives him updates on “his” orphans, and Yeza provides tinctures Cadeuceus isn’t familiar with. Yasha carries him the way Jester used to, before he was too fragile and she too pudgy to do it comfortably, and they sit and talk among the flowers. Beau doesn’t need to do anything special. Just their banter is enough to make him feel young. Caleb, white haired himself, sits with him in empathy and entertains him with all kinds of magic once his eyes have grown too weak to read. Essek helps him float, sometimes when he’s around; when Fjord declares he’s ready to go all nine of them gather and both wizards use their skills to make him as comfortable as they can on the multiday pilgrimage to the Wildmother’s spot in the mountains. Even Kingsley makes the cross-continental treck from Darktow to meet them there and visit his mentor on his deathbed.

And then Fjord is gone, and his friends drink tea every year in his memory, until his body has grown the proper leaves and more of them have joined him in the ground. It’s only a matter of time.

[bearlytolerant]

I'm being greedy

Iris/Raghnall

— sharing a pillow and waking up with their faces only centimetres apart

(don't have to!)

Closer

The campfire crackles amidst the subtle crash of the waves against the rocks and Iris wanders the beach, scouring for any type of dry wood to keep the fire going long enough to get a meal in. But the sun hangs low on the horizon and if the fire keeps ablaze through the night, her location will quickly become grounds for a monster’s feast. Finding a few choice pieces, she carries the wood back to where Raghnall finishes skinning a tideswimmer.

“I need to ask something,” she says, throwing the small sticks into the fire.

“Whatever it is, ask it,” he replies, skewering the fish on the end of a dagger. He balances the butt of it on some rocks, heating the fish in the coals.

“Did my father send you?”

“Believe it or not, I go where the coin flows and that coin flows from more than just your father.” He stands and scratches at the back of his neck.

She stands too, eyeing him closely. “Well that is certainly an answer but not to the question I asked.” She takes a step closer to him. “Did. My. Father. Send you.”

“He might have made mention—”

She huffs and storms off to the edge of the rocky shore, scooping up pebbles and tossing them into the ocean. Raghnall sidles up beside her.

“What can I say?”

“You could say no to glorified babysitting. You are worth more than that.”

“Is it babysitting when you are five and twenty?”

“Six and twenty. And I suppose not in technical terms but it is basically the charge my father gives you.”

“Your father pays so handsomely for me to kill monsters with you. How could I say no?”

She tosses another pebble into the water. “You are infuriating.”

“Get used to it, cos.”

“I cannot believe I am stranded with you here until morning.”

“You seem pent up even after that goblin fight. Perhaps a bout would relieve some of that stress and pass the time. Then it’s just a singular sleep until the morrow and you will be free of me. What do you say?”

The rest of the pebbles slip from her fingertips. “No weapons,” she says, rounding on him. “Just fists. No blows to the head.”

Raghnall grins and bows ever so slightly. “On my honor. I look forward to testing my mettle against yours, cos.”

Iris spits on the ground, removing her dagger strapped around her leg. Raghnall removes his shield and weapons as well, including his armor. He stands bare chested and she notes the tattoos there, but the one with goblin heads skewered on a sword makes her smile. She fucking despises goblins. They are only a monetary thought though as her eyes follow the trail of hair down his abs that disappears beneath the ties of his waistband that could be undone so easily. Her wandering eyes don’t go unnoticed by him as he smirks knowingly at her. Briefly closing her eyes to clear her head, she reopens them and plants her feet firmly against the ground.

“Ready if you are,” she says.

He saunters her way and she plays dirty, scooping up a bit of sand. She tosses it in his face. More than half of it blows away but it disorients him enough.

“Hoy, thought we agreed no hits to the face?” He claws at his eyes and she takes her chance.

A swift sweep of her foot and she knocks him on his ass. She jumps, straddling his hips and grasps his wrists, pinning them to his sides.

“I did not hit your face. Sand did.”

His head slams into hers and she loses her grip. “Pardon me, my head slipped,” he says, flipping her.

She’s on her back, dizzy and panting, unable to move.

He has her secured and rubs it in when he grabs both of her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. She scowls and he smirks. Chest heaving, all she can think about is how pretty his brown eyes are, especially with the way the firelight dances in the reflection of his pupils and alights on his dark skin. He’s beautiful and she doesn’t know why this is the first time she’s noticed. Probably because she’s never been pinned beneath him after losing a ridiculously short bout.

“I think you won,” she mutters, her eyes falling from his eyes to his lips. She hopes he doesn’t think anything of the way her words come out breathlessly or how her heart beats erratically in her chest.

He doesn’t move, eyes roaming over her face. “Shame. I thought you would have bested me, cos.”

“You are not the first to be disappointed in me and I hardly think you will be the last.”

“Still. I worry your heart was not in this.”

He is still insanely close, hand still closed around her wrists, breath dusting her lips and she is trying to focus on his words. But his body is on hers and she thinks about what he said earlier in the day about battles—the simplicity of it. There’s naught else like it. The clashing of bodies and wills. She can think of a few other things that are simple and very much like the clashing of bodies and wills and she’d very much like to try it out. Her mind travels there in a matter of seconds and she wonders just how salty his skin would taste on her tongue if she ran it along his neck before biting and kissing it tenderly.

She writhes and struggles in his grasp. An attempt to disperse such thoughts.

“You can speculate all you want later. For now, you should get off me so we can eat, put the fire out and try to get some shut eye. Let us hope we will not have to face an ambush mid sleep.”

Wordlessly he climbs off of her, making his way back toward the fire and she follows, taking deep breaths to calm herself. They share their charred fish and an apple she had in her pack before settling in against the ground for some sleep. She rolls up her scarf and they lay down together, using it as a pillow, backs facing one another as they close their eyes for sleep.

Morn comes with bird song and just a touch of orange on the horizon. Iris squints her eyes closed trying to keep out the sun and rolls. Her body brushes against Raghnall and he stirs. Slowly she opens her eyes, hoping he’s still asleep and won’t mind if she siphons some of his body heat but as her eyes trail up from his chest to his face, he smiles at her sleepily, lips closer than they were during their little bout. Her thoughts immediately descend into lustful territory.

“Mornin’,” he says, his breath touching her lips.

She kisses him on impulse. It’s utterly foolish, she thinks, especially if he is not into it. But he cradles her face with his other hand and kisses her back. Slowly and oh so soft and very much into it. She melts into him, her fingers crawling up his shoulder and resting gently there while her leg hooks up and over his hip. Though there’s fabric between them, the throb of his cock flutters her pulse and she presses herself into him, needing all of him. Her hand slips away from his shoulder and skims his skin between their bodies and blindly tugs at the strings on his pants.

Pulling away with a little chuckle, she frowns at him, missing his lips on hers. “That is quite the greeting. Eager are we?”

“Need to go slower?”

“No. You know I hunger—,” he kisses her once, nibbles on her bottom lip, “—for you.” Clamps his hand on her ass. “For your body.”

“Then what is with all the chatter?”

“Just a little exchange of banter. It is a different kind of bout you know. One of wit.”

“Raghnall.”

“Hmm?”

“Please, shut up and just kiss me.” As she utters the words, she’s smacked with a slimy fluid to the face and Raghnall is already scrambling to his feet while she’s still trying to swipe it away with the back of her palm.

“Saurians,” he says, frustrated and hurries off to fetch his sword.

Iris sits up and notices they are much smaller saurians than what she’s used to, not even half the size of the ones she is used to fighting, and they don’t have any weapons. “Wait! I think they’re babies. Probably newly hatched too. Look how cute they are.” She smiles. “Hello there little ones.”

Two out of the dozen warily crawl up her leg but Raghnall returns, swinging his sword and the one bites while the other digs its claws into her right thigh. She screams in pain and reigns her volume in while he hacks and slashes away at the saurians. The two that injured her are now just bits and pieces scattered in her lap.

“Are you alright?” Raghnall asks, barely out of breath.

“Yes. But do you not think that was over doing it? Just a tad?”

He nods, grinning. “Maybe a tad.”

“Help me up.” She wriggles her hand at him and he clasps it, helping her to her feet. “I need to clean these wounds and we need to get out of here before the next dozen eggs hatch.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he says.

They gather up the remainder of their belongings and make their way off the beach. They have another cave to pass through and a part of her wishes she could have him for just one more night. But to his point, her father pays a handsome sum and he is impatient. He will need his report.

[bella-caecilia]

For @adoracora-elizabeth 's prompt 'Cake' for Cobert! I hope you like it <3

Cake

She had taken too great a bite. Her mind had been fully occupied by her daughters' bickering, the sponge cake piling up in her mouth as her frustration grew.

"At least, I'm not as pathetic as you," Mary scoffed over the rim of her tea cup.

Cora put her hand before her mouth and chewed faster. Robert noticed. He grinned at her attempt to regain appropriateness.

"So, it tastes good?" he whispered, leaning towards her.

She couldn't explain; her mouth full of crumbs. A hum was the only response. With a dry chuckle, Robert brushed a thumb over her lip.

[otherworldseekers]

3. "I'll keep you warm."

Severia Zetsuen was just exiting Camp Broken Glass' headquarters after a strategy session when she heard a familiar voice call out behind her.

"Fancy seeing you here, hero."

When she turned around, Nero was leaning nonchalantly against the corner of the building, just out of sight from the doorway. A smile broke out on her face.

"You made it." She ran over to him eagerly.

"Were you worried?"

"A little. There were a lot of voidsent on the way here."

Nero took her hands and pulled her into the shadow of the building. "You know nothing could keep me from your side." He tilted her face upward so he could see beneath her hat.

"And what do you think of my homeland?"

"I thought I knew what cold was like," Severia said with a grimace. "Then I got here."

"Well, I'm here now," Nero said as he lifted her into his arms.

"Nero, there are people around!"

"Good. Let them watch. I don't want anyone to make the mistake of thinking you need anyone but me to keep you warm."

[solitaireships]

🌧️ for whoever you think works best with the prompt!! (@comfortingstars)

I did this for Xianyun! And then proceeded to forget to post it for a month lol. But here it finally is!

Rating: Gen

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1028 words

Divider by saradika

Andromeda doesn’t often go out exploring. Usually when she goes out, it’s because she’s working on a case or trying to do some of her more independent research. She’s always been more at home in a library or a city than out in nature, which is what makes Xianyun tagging along for her trip out to Minlin. 

Andromeda loves just how knowledgeable Xianyun is about the area. It makes sense— she’s been living on Mount Aocang for centuries, traveling throughout Jueyun Karst. Ae’s good at finding hidden trinkets and details, something that Andromeda can always appreciate. She wonders as they explore together if Xianyun might like getting to help her out on some of her cases. She’d be good at noticing little clues, and two sets of eyes are bound to be better than one. 

That’s part of why she had invited aer out to help on this trip. Andromeda doesn’t know exactly what she’s looking for. This is a personal trip, one meant to help with her research on her ancestors’ culture. She doesn’t even know if she’ll find the answers she’s looking for out here, and part of her knows that she probably won’t. Learning everything there is to know about a long lost civilization on a single trip is impossible, even with Xianyun providing her insight from what she remembers of it. But if nothing else, Andromeda likes getting to spend time with aer. 

Though, as she looks up while they travel along one of the wooden bridges dotting Minlin, she’s not sure how much longer this expedition will last. Clouds have been hanging overhead for the whole trip, but they’re getting darker now. Andromeda can feel in the atmosphere that rain is coming, and the clouds will burst at any moment. 

“It looks like rain soon,” she points out, frowning at the dark clouds hanging overhead. “We should try to get to a shelter or something.”

“We are not far from one’s abode,” Xianyun says. She looks out of the corner of her eyes to Andromeda, like she’s checking to see her reaction. 

Andromeda can pick up the underlying message in Xianyun’s words. This is an invitation— a very important one. There aren’t many people who can say they’ve been invited into an adeptus’ home, but now ae’s offering Andromeda the chance to see hers.

“We could go there then. If you want,” Andromeda says. 

“One is not so fickle that one would invite you to my abode and then change one’s mind,” Xianyun states, as matter-of-fact as ever. “Come along, dear. One will lead the way.”

Andromeda won’t say no. She’s curious about what Xianyun’s abode looks like. She’s heard bits and pieces— that this is a place where she does work on her inventions, that it’s essentially located in a pocket dimension made with adeptal energy. But Andromeda is sure that it’s more interesting in real life than words can describe. Especially if it’s anything like the adeptus that lives there.

The two of them make their way up Mount Aocang, following along the path to the top. Andromeda’s glad that Xianyun stays with her the whole way up to the top. It’s not that this is a particularly challenging climb, it’s easy to follow along the path up, but it’s time consuming. Still, Xianyun would be able to fly to the top if ae wanted to, making it up far faster than they’re moving right now.

The walk up is mostly quiet, though Xianyun comments on things they pass by as they go. Andromeda always likes hearing her insight, and with it not having the pressure to respond more with the occasional word or sound to confirm she’s listening. Ae always has something interesting to say, though, and she thinks that she could listen to aer speak for hours and never get tired of it. 

By the time they make it to the plateau at the top of the mountain, it looks like the storm is about to begin. Heavy gray clouds hang overhead looking like they’re seconds from bursting. Xianyun leads the way past the lake at the center of the area, guiding Andromeda up into the caves that form her abode. Ae pauses at the entrance, motioning with aer hand like ae’s turning a key. A bit of adeptal energy hums around her and the entrance to the abode glows before allowing them in. 

Andromeda had heard about how impressive an adeptus’s home was, and she had heard from Xianyun about aer abode before. Still, it’s far bigger than she would have expected, glowing golden bridges stretching out into an infinite sea of clouds with floating islands dotted through it. Andromeda’s sure that if she ventured deeper in she’d find some of Xianyun’s various inventions, and part of her is curious about where she usually goes here to rest. 

“This is amazing,” Andromeda says. 

“One was responsible for designing and creating this space,” Xianyun says, a self-satisfied smile on her face. Ae’s cute when ae’s smug.  

“You did great work. It must be nice to spend some time alone here. It’s kinda like your own private sanctuary,” she says.

“Perhaps it does not simply have to be one’s own sanctuary. Should you come to Mount Aocang when you’re alone on your investigations, you will always be welcome to visit one’s abode for as long as you may need,” Xianyun suggests, sounding far more hesitant than she usually does. “What is one’s shall be yours.”

Andromeda smiles, taking Xianyun’s hand in hers. She rubs her thumb down the back of aer hand. “Thank you, Xianyun. I— you’re very important to me.”

“And one finds one’s self growing more and more fond of you with each day,” she replies. 

Andromeda wishes that she were taller so she could give Xianyun a kiss. Instead she gives aer a kiss on the back of the hand, hoping that’s enough to convey all she feels for aer. 

Hidden away in Xianyun’s abode, Andromeda can’t hear the sound of the storm outside. But as Xianyun guides her deeper into the place she’s called home for years, Andromeda thinks they could wait out any storm together.

[ugly-bug-starscream]

I dunno, maybe it's just me but I always imagined Starscream being a girl-dad. And since he's Skylimit's carrier, I can imagine the two having some very close memories when she was a infant sparkling. Like, one night, everyone's asleep except for her because she's terrified and crying her little optics out because of a bad dream, Star is the first to come down and calm her down by picking her up while flying and maybe singing a soft Cybertronian lullaby used to comfort sparklings or somethin'.

HES A GIRL DAD AND HE LOVES HIS BABY GIRL!!!!

they absolutely have a very close bond. of course starscream were pampering and spoiling her rotten... skylimit is the most content when shes in starscream's embrace <33

[pricklenettle]

inspired by this post, Danny’s lost in the ghost zone and comes across pariah dark’s keep. I had to draw it and had The most fun with the spooky green ghost zone

[ragnarockz]

Sweet Tooth (Sugar Mommy!Agatha x Sugar Baby!Reader)

Synopsis: Agatha takes you out on a date because she loves being with you and spending her money on you (and showing off just how much money she has). Her cravings for you aren't fulfilled during your date which only means, she needs to take a bigger bite of you back at home.

Word Count: 3K

Fandom: Marvel - Agatha All Along

Characters: Agatha Harkness, Reader

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Age gap, Sugar Mommy/Sugar Baby relationship, Mommy kink, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, smut, size kink, swearing, PDA, strap-on sex, money for favors/sex, descriptions of sexual acts

A/N: Commissioned piece for @aubreyplzbemydaddy 🩷

Music Inspo: Mrs. Robinson - Simon & Garfunkel, Royals - Lorde, Gimmie More - Britney Spears, Sweet Spot - Kim Petras, Dirty Cash - PAWSA

Agatha peers at you from behind her designer sunglasses as she sits a little too comfortably in her favorite seat at the café. It's a frequent haunt for the both of you; someplace where you can steal a few hours together. It's usually quiet there; usually just the two of you during the middle of the day as most people are at work and those who aren't, simply can't afford this place anyway.

It's way too overpriced for a café and you're pretty sure it's only open still because of Agatha Harkness. She sits there now, with her right knee over her left and her designer purse is placed in front of her on the table. Her eyes are on you, the back of you, as you stand at the counter and order yours and her usual. The barista relays your order and then the price and you, silently sigh in some relief, not because of the total but because the last time you were here with Agatha, you had to correct the barista on a question they posed.

"Do you and your Mom need anything else or will that be all for today?"

You had to bite your tongue then. No, Agatha was not your Mom. Yes, Agatha was your Mommy.

It made you feel dangerous and excited; all those emotions rolling over inside of you as you simply answered 'no thank you' before turning away from the counter.

You assume this time around, the barista remembered that no, the hot older woman sitting at your preferred table was not your Mother. Not in the way they probably thought she was.

The barista coughs gently now before announcing your total once more as you snap back to the present.

Money.

Right.

You owe the café money for your order. You pat your pockets and know there's nothing in them. You don't need anything in them that isn't your phone and maybe some lip balm.

Agatha has that all covered.

She always does.

And so now, you nod your head in a semi-sorry silent apology towards the barista as you turn your back on them and make your way over to your table. Agatha's eyes are still on you, following you, soaking you all in in the pretty little outfit she picked out for you that morning to wear. You look young but not to the point of undesirability. Young and fresh and naive; someone Agatha can boss around and feel as if she has the upper hand.

Let Mommy take care of it, Baby.

Agatha smirks at you now as she takes off her sunglasses and hangs them onto her shirt. She gives you an amused lopsided grin and knows exactly why you've come right back to her empty handed.

"Umm...I need to pay for our order, so..."

You hear Agatha blow out air through her nose as she lifts her head and smiles tight lipped. She's waiting for you to say the magic words; the one she's conditioned you to say to her whenever you're asking, begging for something from her.

It warms your insides and makes you feel flushed all over.

"Please...Mommy...can I have your credit card to pay?"

She pokes the inside of her mouth with her tongue before she licks her lips and reaches for her purse. Taking it into her lap, she takes her time knowing that you and the barista won't rush her. Not with all the money she throws around here on the daily. She takes out her designer wallet and pulls out one of her various credit cards before handing it over to you.

"Here you go, Baby..."

The plastic feels like it's worth something when you get it between your fingers, holding it tight. You give her a smile as you turn away from her and head back to the counter. Agatha's eyes never leave your body; following every move you make.

All you need to do is make one single tap and your order is paid for. Your face flushes at the thought; how easy all of that was and what lengths you had to go to get there. Sure, you could order whatever you liked and wait as patiently as you could, find a nice seat and you'd still have to ask Agatha to pay for it all with her money.

One. Single. Tap.

You take your order and meet Agatha back at your table; putting down your drinks and food before you hand back her credit card which she tucks back into her wallet, the wallet slipping back into her purse.

"Thank you, Mommy..."

She nods her head at you as she moves her purse away to give the both of you more room. Agatha grabs her coffee cup and leans back into her seat, cool and collected and oozing dominance.

You stare at her in awe and desire; lust filling up every tiny crevice of your body as your hand shakes as you pick up your own coffee cup. She watches you so intently you wonder if she can see right through you, inside of you. You wonder sometimes, if Agatha can read all your dirty little thoughts.

God, you think as you take a sip of your drink, you hope so.

Agatha watches you intently as she slowly sips her coffee; relishing in the expensive brew. She can afford to sit here and take her time with you; study you in all the ways that some people would deem inappropriate in public. She makes it a point to undress you with her eyes; smiling into her drink before she pulls it away from her lips.

"Thank you for the coffee, my Sweet Girl...you always do such a good job remembering my order for me...for Mommy..."

She watches in pleasure as you almost choke on your drink; pulling it away from your mouth and setting it down onto the table. Her eyes catch yours as you look up at her and bite your lip in response. Agatha grins with her teeth as she points her chin up slightly. Her gaze drifts down from your eyes to the low-cut hem of your shirt.

She's eating you alive with only her eyes and her pretty words.

"You're welcome..."

Your voice is a whisper as you slowly lean your upper body forwards towards the table. Your fingers grip the edge of it so you can push forwards a little more; giving Agatha a better view. You hear her suck in her breath and clear her throat, try to gain composure as if she's suddenly just remembering you're both in public and her eye-fucking your chest isn't something readily accepted on doing.

"You're welcome...who?"

Your gaze flutters up to her eyes before it quickly goes back down to burn holes into the lid of your coffee cup. You trace the outline of your tinted lip balm over the plastic.

"You're welcome, Mommy."

"Now, that's a Good Girl."

You pointedly sit up straighter; try to appear more elegant. More poised. More desirable. More ripe for her taking. You reach for your coffee once more but Agatha is quicker with her reflexes. Agatha's hand falls over yours and gives you a reassuring squeeze before you lock eyes and her hand pulls away.

She takes your cup and you watch her with eager, hungry eyes. She brings it up to her own lips and takes a sip and you envision her mouth pressing over your lip balm stains as if she's really pressing her mouth to yours in public.

Your brain drifts away for a second and wonders if she can taste you while she tastes your coffee.

And, will you be able to taste her when she gives you back your cup?

Agatha pulls your drink away and licks her lips in a dramatic showing; the paper bottom of the cup makes a loud sound as she places it back down on the table in front of you.

"So sweet, just like you, Sweet Girl. Exactly like you."

You almost knock over your cup as you clutch it fast and quickly bring it up to your lips. You're dying to taste her; any trace of her. She had been pretty distanced this morning before your café date. Maybe she was saving you all up for later. It wouldn't have been the first time.

She keeps her gaze on you as she watches you finish your drink. Her hand dips into her purse once more and her wallet opens for a final time as she pulls out a hundred dollar bill. She places it gently on the table between the both of you and you know what she's asking you to do without words.

Agatha doesn't need to use her words with you; you've been with her for long enough to know what she expects of you.

You reach for the crisp flat bill and pick it up before turning yourself in your seat to get out of it.

You glance over your shoulder at her and feel the tight pang between your legs at the way she's watching you. It's almost like you're some sort of prize she likes to dangle in front of others; showing you off to make them feel a twinge of jealousy. You wonder if the barista feels that way about the two of you as you hand them over the bill and tell them it's a tip.

You watch their hand shake as they take your money...no, Agatha's money, from your hand. You've lost count of how many times their hand has shaken as they take the tip from you. You can't even remember now how many times Agatha has taken you here to indulge in this little ritual she's set up for you both.

A taste of artificial sweetness for a price before she takes you back to her home and indulges you in something money truly cannot buy.

Agatha Harkness herself.

-

You're back into to lionesses den as you trail right behind her. Agatha packed up your food and hers from the café for you both to enjoy later. Now, as she leads you without a word into her bedroom, you can tell she's hungry for nothing but you and that sweetness only you can offer. Sugar dissolving her teeth in which, the sugar is you.

"Such a Good Girl for me this afternoon; you looked so perfect sitting there...showing off to Mommy what I love so much..."

She's talking to herself as you drift into her room and make yourself comfortable on her bed. You sit on the edge of it; watch and listen as she opens and closes drawers. You watch and listen to her in silence; eyes as wide as saucers as you try to soak Agatha all in for yourself.

There's something so alluring, so addicting to watch this woman who is definitely old enough to be your mother be so desirable before you. The natural signs of age cover her well. Beautiful and sharp crows feet at the corner of her eyes. That forehead wrinkle you can't help but trace with your fingers when given the chance. Faded stretchmarks on her body from simply aging and changing and a secret you know she keeps from you and everyone else.

You want to paint her like a picture in your mind and keep her there forever; a snapshot to look back upon as she starts to undress in front of you.

Agatha looks over her shoulder at you to make sure you're watching. Of course you are; your focus could be nowhere else when she's in the same room you're in. She breaks into that smile that makes her eyes squint shut and something dangerous lurks behind her eyes.

You've sensed it many times before when Agatha smiles this way; almost as if she's running through every depraved thing to do to you in a matter of seconds.

"Mommy has a new toy for you...I hope you don't mind if we change this up..."

She speaks to you even though she turns her head back forward; paying attention to what she needs to do.

You follow her legs up to the curve of her ass; the way her expensive, deep purple lingerie hugs at every curve and your fingers itch with the need to rip it off of her. The slight muscles in her back ripple as do the muscles of her biceps as she bends her upper body to lift her legs to pull up her harness.

Your blood runs cold then burning hot and you feel a sudden pooling of saliva in your mouth.

The reveal almost takes your breath away but it sure allows you to slip up as a moan escapes your lips. Agatha smiles smugly at you as she puts one hand on her hips and lets the other hand hang freely by her side before she brings it to stroke the long length of her cock between her legs.

It's bigger than any other toy she's ever used for or with you before.

"Get yourself comfortable for Mommy, Sweet Girl..."

Agatha's words drip like honey from her mouth as you do as she says.

Because you always do what she says; always what Mommy asks Baby to do.

You move off of her bed and turn yourself around. Your back is to Agatha now and you know the drill.

You know just how she likes it, likes you.

You lift your shirt up but don't take it off and do the same with your bra until your breasts are hanging and no longer restrained from your bra. You do the same with your bottoms, pulling them down until they hit your ankles and you kick them off and away from yourself. You don't touch your underwear at all. That's for Agatha to determine what she wants to do with them today. You hold your breath and count to three in your mind.

"Oh...look at you...just like a little present for Mommy...such a good girl for me, always..."

She whispers under her breath as you feel her close. Her body heat is radiating and you can feel her; the ghosting of her long hair tickling your back and behind your arms. You feel the tip of her new toy pressing ever so slightly against your folds through your underwear and you wonder just how much you'll be able to take her inside of you.

The thought makes you gasp and then moan which, of course, tips Agatha off.

She grabs your left wrist with her left hand and presses herself into you; the head of her cock pressed hard against your underwear. She's not inside of you, not yet, just teasing dangerously with the promise of what's to come.

"A...Agatha, please..."

"Sorry? Who?"

You swallow hard as you lean down further and push your hips back. You're begging her with your body and the complete hand over of permission to use you how she fits. You clear your throat and turn your head to the side so she can hear you; so you're not muffled against her bed sheets.

"Mommy, please...please fuck me...with...that huge, throbbing cock...please..."

Agatha's grip around your wrist only gets tighter as you buck back and try to take her inside of you. She laughs as her free hand comes up to stroke her nails up and down your back. She watches as you shiver underneath her touch before those nails and those fingers keep moving down to follow the curve of your ass and then farther still.

She flips her palm over so those fingers can swipe at your wet slit. She becomes suddenly frustrated with the fabric that remains between your skin and hers. She pulls it down just until it stays under the curve of your ass. Agatha moans in satisfaction deep in her throat.

"Oh, Sweetheart...you have no idea what you're asking for, do you?"

You never get the chance to ponder this question fully as Agatha breaks any semblance of thought in your brain as she uses her fingers to guide her cock into you. Inch by massive inch.

Your eyes slam shut and your face presses against her bed; stars burning away behind your eyelids as you gasp for breath and feel Agatha stretching you out to an extreme you've never felt before in your life. You whine for her in a way you hope sounds pretty and of course, it works. Another inch you take of her and feel your inner muscles try to clench around her cock.

"...M...more Mommy...please...please more...I want all of you..."

You can barely take how much of her is inside of you now; not even at the point of her rutting into you yet you feel like it's all too much. You choke back a sob as she uses that wrist of yours, still in her grasp, to pull you up a little straighter as she guides herself deeper now.

"Of course, Baby girl, of course...you deserve it all, don't you? Being so good for me, to me...so good for your Mommy...you deserve all of my cock, don't you?"

Her cooing makes you feel feral underneath her and you make the split decision to push your hips back. The sudden sensation that rocks through your core and makes your clit throb is almost enough to make you cry out a sob.

It's Agatha who starts to roll her hips towards you; ever so slightly and just enough. You barely coat over her entire length; far too long for it to ever be covered. But, Agatha muses as she keeps a trained eye on watching your pussy take her in as much as you can, that's the beauty in it all.

Agatha makes you feel like you could take in every single inch of her even though you know, and she knows, it's near impossible. The sheer will, the devotion you have towards her, your Mommy, is good enough.

"Oh, god...Mommy, please...please I'm so close...I'msoclosetocoming...alloveryourcock...please..."

You can feel Agatha smiling above you and you know the words that are about to fall from her lips. They're words she's uttered before; into your ear or against your dripping pussy right before she stuck her tongue up inside of it. Words that would make you feel sick to your stomach but because it's her, because it's Agatha, because it's your Mommy...well...

"You come on Mommy's cock, Sweetheart, and Mommy'll give you..."

She pounds her hips into you, making you falter harder into her bed. You're so close you can taste it on your lips. Your eyes snap shut once again.

"...some spending money so..."

Agatha pulls back and then slams back into you; watches as you spasm around her and your legs start to wobble underneath her, against the side of her bed.

"...you can buy whatever you want and..."

You throw your head back and try to look at Agatha from over your shoulder. You stare at how her lips are turned upwards in a smile as, of course, she's enjoying every second of fucking you this way. You struggle to keep your eyes open as you feel yourself unclench and a wave of release fills you, coats her.

"...make yourself all pretty for Mommy."

Agatha watches in satisfaction as she pulls her hips back and notices the coating, semi-transparent, on her cock. Your body still shakes; going through the motions of your orgasm as it rolls through your body. You want to give her more, so much more but your body has cut you off. Too much stimulation in such a quick time.

Agatha doesn't pull out of you, rarely if ever after your orgasm she does. She loves being inside of you, reminding you of who you really belong to. You muffle a moan but fail; wanting her to hear just how good she's made you feel.

You want your Mommy to know because, you know, that it pleases her just as much as it pleases you.

Always a good girl for Agatha. Always a sweet thing for Mommy.

[hyruling]

I've been scrolling down your blog all morning going through your drabbles and fics on my day off like you're the news channel, so if you are still accepting prompt and feel inspired by it, I'd like to submit n.21 🌞 btw your writing is incredible!!!!!

21. kissing the other’s brow & 38. stroking their leg

—

It’s late when they get home, their shift having run over by two hours thanks to a high rise fire that took the efforts of three additional houses to get under control. Buck and Eddie had scaled at least fourteen flights of stairs alone, then back down and up again when they found a few stragglers along the way, and Buck doesn’t remember ever being so tired in his life.

He shuffles into the house behind Eddie, trying to hide the way he’s limping. It’s probably no use — Eddie is too astute, and he’s sure he saw the way Buck had to grit his teeth when he took off his boots back at the station. But if he can just get into the bathtub and then into bed he’ll be fine. They have plans to take Chris and his friends to the beach tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to give Eddie any reason to think they should cancel.

Buck goes into the kitchen first to grab a bottle of water while Eddie checks in on Chris, who’s already asleep by the sounds of it. When Buck emerges, Eddie is down the hall and closing the door of the bathroom behind him. Damn.

It’s his night on the couch. He should make up his bed, but his leg is screaming and it’s all he can do to ease himself onto it without yelping in pain. He reclines and elevates it over the back of the couch with a private little wince and closes his eyes.

The next thing he’s aware of is Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him awake.

“Can you stand?” Eddie asks him.

Buck blinks, eyes bleary from the few minutes of sleep he must’ve nabbed. “I—yeah, sure.”

He moves too quickly, and there’s no way Eddie misses the way his face contorts in pain from it. He’s right there, helping Buck stand, and easily supports his weight when his leg threatens to give out.

“Sorry,” Buck hisses in his ear, gripping his shoulder for balance. “I’ll be okay in a sec.”

Eddie just tightens his hold on Buck’s waist. “Take your time bud.”

Buck stretches until he thinks he can reasonably put weight on it again, and when he nods Eddie helps him down the hall. So much for hiding it.

“Promise I’m still good for tomorrow,” Buck gets out through a clenched jaw.

“Don’t worry about that. C’mon.”

They pass the bedroom, and when Buck makes an inquisitive little noise Eddie just keeps walking him towards the bathroom.

The bath is full of warm water when they step in. Stream curls from the top of the water, slightly cloudy and heavenly looking.

“I put in some of those CBD bath salts,” Eddie tells him, releasing him at last to dig a clean towel out of the closet. “And I think there’s still some of the cream left we can put on after. Do you need one of your pills, or did you take one?”

Buck doesn’t answer for a minute, choking back the sudden lump in his throat. Eddie’s exhausted too — he climbed the same amount of stairs, carried the same amount of people as Buck. He can see in the droop shoulders and his half-lidded eyes that he’s tired, and he still took the time to do this for him. No one’s ever known him this way, cared for him the way Eddie does, save for Maddie, and it overwhelms him at times like this.

“Buck?”

Eddie’s voice breaks him out of his little reverie. He blinks a few times, croaks, “Y-yeah?”

“Do you need your medicine?”

Buck swallows and nods. “Uh, yeah. Probably should. They’re in my bag.”

Eddie nods. “Go ahead and get in, I’ll bring it to you.”

Buck undresses when he leaves, and gingerly lowers himself into the water. It’s perfect, and he immediately feels his muscles relax, his leg practically singing in relief.

Eddie comes back in a minute later and crouches to set Buck’s medicine and bottle of water on the edge of the tub. Buck’s not the least bit self conscious — Eddie’s seen him naked before, more than once, and it’s not like he can really see anything with the way Buck has his leg crooked. But he wouldn’t care if he could, and that feels significant in a way he doesn’t have the energy to examine.

“Need anything else?” Eddie asks.

Buck shakes his head. “No, this is perfect. Thank you Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, and leans forward to press a soft kiss to Buck’s brow as he straightens. “Soak for at least thirty minutes. Holler if you need me.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Buck staring after him like a fish out of water.

Any chance of relaxation goes out the window. He tells himself it’s no big deal; it was probably just one of Eddie’s dad reflexes. He’s seen him do the same thing when giving Chris medicine countless times. It doesn’t mean anything, it can’t, and yet Buck feels the ghost of his lips between his eyes like a sting.

He swallows the pill and soaks until the water goes cold, and his leg is somewhat better after — he can at least put weight on it when he stands. His mind buzzes while he finishes his nightly routine, and it’s almost enough to drown out the constant diatribe of Eddie kissed me Eddie kissed me Eddie kissed me racketing around his skull.

Almost.

Eddie is on the couch when he comes out, scrolling idly on his phone. He scoots over so Buck can sit next to him and pats his lap.

“Let me see.”

“It’s okay,” Buck says as he lowers himself down. “The bath helped.”

“And yet you’re still limping. C’mon, up.”

Buck sighs and swings his leg up, foot resting on Eddie’s thigh. Eddie pushes his sweats up to his knee and brushes his hand over Buck’s calf, just feeling, and Buck tries not to shiver. He knows he’s feeling for excess warmth, for evidence of a clot, and nods to himself when Buck apparently passes the test.

“Think you can handle a massage?” he asks.

Buck swallows hard. “Yeah, think so.”

Eddie nods again and reaches over to grab the bottle of CBD cream on the coffee table. He puts a generous amount in his palm and rubs his hands together, then starts massaging it gently into Buck’s calf.

It’s not the first time he’s done this for Buck, but it’s the first time since Eddie’s touch became something of a livewire; since every brush of arms at work or friendly shoulder clap made him ache for more, since he developed a somewhat unhealthy obsession with Eddie’s hands. And with the memory of Eddie’s lips on his skin still fresh, it’s all he can do not to moan as those capable hands knead at his sore leg.

“Relax,” Eddie says quietly. “You’re tense as hell bud, that’s not gonna help.”

“Sorry,” Buck says, a little more breathless than he intends.

“Lean back,” Eddie instructs, and Buck complies. He relaxes against one of the throw pillows, and Eddie pulls his leg even closer. “Close your eyes, if you want.”

He does, if only so he doesn’t have to watch Eddie be so competent and gorgeous in the soft lamplight. Slowly, he does relax, Eddie’s ministrations finally taking effect. Buck’s all but a puddle of mush on the couch by the time his leg starts to feel more normal, and Eddie’s kneading turns into gentle stroking motions up and down his shin.

“Better?”

Buck sighs and nods. “Much. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Eddie says with a small squeeze of his calf.

Eddie doesn’t stop touching him. He keeps up the soft caress of Buck’s shin until he’s half asleep, until the vulnerable knife’s edge of consciousness turn his thoughts fuzzy and precarious. He thinks, I love you, and you should know.

Instead, what he says is, “Did you mean to kiss me?”

Eddie’s hand stops, and Buck chances opening his eyes. Eddie’s are on him, dark in the low light, and Buck can’t pin down his expression. It’s not horror, or regret, or any of the things he convinced himself of in the bath, so that’s something. In fact, his lips curl into a closed-mouth smile aimed at his lap.

“I did kiss you, didn’t I?”

Buck laughs, a little self deprecating. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, and glances down at his hand on Buck’s leg. He rubs a little circle into Buck’s shin with his thumb, still smiling softly. “Not exactly how I meant to do it.”

Buck’s heart tha-thums in his chest. “Meant to?”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink, eyes flicking up to meet his, and Buck kind of thinks he might die.

“Well, I’d hoped it’d be more romantic than while you were naked and in pain in the bathtub.”

All the blood in his body rushes to his head like he’s on a rollercoaster, world suddenly flipped on its head. He sits up, jostling Eddie’s hand on his leg, but he just trails it down to hold Buck’s ankle instead. There’s still a faint blush on Eddie’s cheeks but he’s smiling expectantly, waiting for whatever response Buck has to that.

He’s coming up empty so far. The seconds stretch on in silence, until Eddie starts to look a little unsure.

“Buck?”

“You could try it now,” Buck says in a rush, hoping for once that first thought best thought is the right move. “If—I mean, this feels pretty—pretty romantic. To me.”

“Oh does it?” Eddie teases, and scoots closer, pulling Buck’s leg fully over his knees until his thigh rests on Eddie’s lap. Eddie puts a warm hand on his knee and squeezes.

“Mhm, definitely,” Buck agrees, nodding like a bobble head. “Most romantic moment of my life. By a lot.”

Eddie laughs, and cups Buck’s face with his free hand. The leftover cream on his hands makes Buck’s cheek tingle, and he waits, hardly daring to breathe while Eddie’s eyes track over his face. And then Eddie leans in and brushes his lips between his eyebrows.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

Eddie moves to his birthmark, pressing gentle kisses to the pink skin above his brow and on his eyelid. He kisses Buck’s cheeks and nose and then, just when Buck thinks his heart might actually give out, his waiting mouth.

It’s brief, and sweet, and the best kiss of his life. Eddie pulls back too soon and Buck tries to follow, but Eddie kisses his forehead again instead and leans back.

“That was more how I pictured it.”

And that’s a revelation in itself, one that he’s going to need a few weeks to process. Before he can stutter out a response, Eddie gently sets Buck’s leg on the floor and stands, offering his hand.

“C’mon. You’re not sleeping out here on that leg.”

Buck takes his hand, and Eddie pulls him to his feet. His leg barely even protests, but he sways closer to Eddie all the same.

“Eddie, I—you should know, I—”

Eddie silences him with another kiss. “Tell me tomorrow, sweetheart. We’ve got time.”

—

[magicpiano]

Bruce Wayne had a child that was somehow kidnapped right out of the hospital just hours after being born. He of them ever stopped looking despite how cold the trail had grown.

Years later there is some rouge attack and a civilian child was injured and taken to the hospital. Bruce does a DNA test on the blood found at the scene and concludes that the child is actually his long lost kid.

Dani was planning to sneak out of the hospital the moment the doctors stopped looking at her. Then Bruce Wayne of all people comes in and claims that she is his long lost child. She knows that this is very impossible because she is a clone, but Bruce won't listen to her and she really doesn't want to explain the clone thing to a "normal" stranger.

This does brings up a lot of questions about how Danny ended up living with the Fentons though.

[brotherconstant]

Interview with the Vampire Gifset request -> Louis + Faceless

[ofbatsandballads]

Yay! I’m so glad you take requests. Feel free to decide if you want to write this or not, it’s fine either way :)

So, I was thinking about Jason dating civilian!reader, and her coming home all disheveled and horrified. Since she knows about him being Red Hood, she can confide in him. She had just killed someone for the first time, whether it was an accident, self defense or whatever, you decide.

I was just wondering how Jason would handle this situation since usually he’s the one doing the killing.

Thank you <3

oh, this is amazing food for thought. I actually think he’d be the very best person to come to in such a situation because he has experience with killing. who’s gonna understand you better than him? literally nobody. had something similar to this in my drafts but now my mind is whirling in a whole host of directions. excellent prompt, nonnie!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include graphic depictions of violence and killing (in self defense), attempted and failed sexual assault, the aftermath of both events (reader’s in shock), hurt/comfort. this one’s got heavier subject matter so please do mind the warnings, folks. i did way too much research of the Gotham Knights map for this, but it’s my favorite depiction of the city so so be it. also reader and Jason live in the Belfry bc i said so (personal hc that i may or may not elaborate on some time). and one last thing! the romanized Arabic at the end is “حياتي ��� which translates to “my life”. I love the idea that Jason picked up Arabic terms of endearment from Talia calling Bruce just about every one she could.

Jason wakes up to soft afternoon sunlight shining on his face. He grumbles out a gravelly hum and scrunches up his face in protest against being awakened when he was sleeping so nicely. He reaches out to find the comforting warmth of his beloved beside him, to pull you in and bury his face into your hair so he can hide from the morning for a bit longer.

All he finds are cold sheets and an empty pillow.

He bolts upright. Something’s wrong. You never, never wake up before him. He doesn’t even register the way that the sudden abundance of light stings his eyes. He takes stock of his surroundings, his training executing on autopilot. The open layout of the Belfry lets him get his bearings in seconds. He doesn’t see you anywhere from the bird’s eye view of your loft bedroom. There’s no smell of food in the kitchen nor any mess that would indicate you’d been working in there. The living room space, fully visible below, is empty too. The only enclosed space in your home, the bathroom that’s just around the corner from your bedroom, is dead quiet. No running water, no sweet singing, no familiar coughing from swallowed toothpaste. And without so much as leaving your bed, Jason’s already come to a conclusion that sends his heart pounding and dries his throat. You’re not here.

He’s up and grabbing the 9mm taped under your bedside table in the span of a few breaths. He moves through your home methodically, like he’s clearing one of Gotham’s criminal hideouts. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing’s been disturbed. He’s not surprised by this—barring Wayne Manor, the Belfry is the most secure building in Gotham. That’s precisely why Jason had moved you both here once you decided to live together. He checks the coffee table and sees that your phone and wallet are gone. A different type of fear takes over now. One that makes his heart ache. What if you’ve finally had enough, finally seen that he’s not good enough for you, not worth sticking around for? It makes him sick. He swallows hard and tries to clear the blistering thought from his head. No, that’s not you. You’re not cruel. You’re kind and gentle and loving. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you wouldn’t hurt him.

The sight of gears turning in his periphery catches his attention. He sees the cables pulling and the security panel go green, and he’s running to the elevator doors damn near ready to pry them open. He hastily tucks the 9mm into the waistband of his pajama pants, easily within reach if he needs it. Relief floods him when the huge metal doors grind open and he sees your pretty face on the other side. Then his heart drops when he realizes that that pretty face is scraped and splattered with blood.

Your hair is tangled and wet, dripping dirty water down your neck and staining the bright red of his your favorite hoodie. Your hands, which shake as they reach blindly towards him, are stained crimson and battered too. But it’s your eyes that haunt him. You look broken.

“Jay,” you croak out, unable to summon anything but a plea for the one person who can keep you safe.

The tears fall from your eyes at the same time that you collapse into Jason’s arms. He drags you inside and locks down the Belfry. Jason wants to panic but feels a strange sense of calm about himself. As loathe as he’d be to admit it, he finds himself falling into Bruce’s habit of assessment and action.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, voice steady and assured.

You don’t even hear him. You’re digging your hands into his shirt, clinging on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. He may very well be. He feels you going rigid and cold and he knows he has to get you stable before you descend further into shock.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, adding on and enunciating your name for emphasis.

That sparks some semblance of lucidity. Jason hasn’t called you by your name in months, much preferring you be his baby or his sweetheart or his doll, or simply his. If it jars you back to reality, so be it.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” he demands gently.

It all pours out of you like a flood.

You’d woken up early by chance this afternoon. Normally you’d just close your eyes and snuggle closer to Jason to catch a couple more hours of sleep, but you wanted to do something nice for him. So you’d gotten up and gone to Lemay’s Flower Emporium in Gotham Heights. You’d bought him the prettiest bouquet of red and pink roses, so big that you had to hold on to it with both arms. The taxi ride from the Heights back to Coventry Station went fine. You were almost home. So close that you could see the clock tower where your heart was sleeping peacefully.

Then you stopped at Commerce Avenue Station. You just wanted to get him some pastries from the little bakery tucked away on 3rd Street that you both love. It was a decent walk; you knew that. You also knew that Jason wouldn’t want you to go out of your way by yourself. But it was morning and you were a grown woman and you could handle yourself, right? Well, that’s what you thought until a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulders and yanked you violently into a side alley.

Jason had prepared you for something like this. You’d spent countless evenings with him teaching you self defense techniques in the training area of your home. None of it mattered because the man that had you by the shoulders slammed you so hard into the brick wall that all your thoughts went hazy. Before you could regain your footing, you were shoved to the ground. The bitter sting of your palms scraping open pierced through the fog, as did the crushing weight of the vile man on top of you. Fear shot through you as the man started tugging at his belt and you realized that this wasn’t intended to be a mugging. You tried to scream but a grimy hand clamped over your mouth, hitting your head against the ground and soaking your hair in dirty rain water and blood.

Your eyes darted around in search of someone—anyone. But no one was coming. You felt fingernails scratch against your stomach as clammy hands curled into the waistband of your sweatpants and suddenly you saw your savior. A brick from the damaged alleyway laid within reach. You didn’t even think when you grabbed it, when you swung it as hard as you could into the side of the man’s head. The corner hit his temple and he crumbled to the side. You rose to your knees and hit the man again. And again. All you could remember were Jason’s firm instructions: if someone makes it a choice of you or them, you make sure that it’s you no matter what it takes.

“I don’t r-remember anything else,” you sob into his chest. “There was so much blood, Jason. And his head—oh, God.”

Jason shushes you gently. He holds you tight in his arms like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll fade away on him.

“Don’t think about it, baby. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

“I killed someone, Jason. I killed someone.”

You look at him wide eyed—afraid, horrified, guilty. No. Jason won’t have that. You will not feel guilty over some lowlife scumbag who wanted to hurt you, who probably would have killed you. Jason can’t even stomach the thought. He wants to put a bullet into whatever’s left of that predator’s head. No, the only shame in you killing that man is that you got to him before Jason could.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says, repeats your name again for emphasis. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“Someone’s dead because of me, Jay,” you argue, gripping him tighter as your panic rises.

“Baby, do you know how many people are dead because of me?” he asks. “Far, far more than I’d ever want you to know. Do you think I’m a monster, honey? That I did something wrong?”

He knows it’s an apples to oranges comparison. But you’ve used this same tactic on him so many times that he also knows it’s effective. Every time he demeans himself for something, you ask if he’d treat you the way he treats himself for the same thing. The answer is always no.

“No!” you reply emphatically. “You protect people. You do it to keep people safe.”

“You did it to keep yourself safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. Or ifs. No ands, either, just in case you get any ideas,” he says lightly, brushing a speck of blood off your cheekbone.

You smile at his stupid little comment and he feels the tension in his body release just slightly. As long as there’s light back in your eyes for even a moment, he knows that you’ll be okay. He picks you up, lets you cling your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as he carries you to the bathroom upstairs. He runs you a bath and, after asking repeatedly if you were okay with it, undresses you and washes the blood and grime from your body. He wraps you in a big fluffy towel, dries and brushes your hair, and tends to your injuries before he bundles you up in his comfiest hoodie and pajama pants. He soothes you when your tears make their return and never leaves your line of sight because he knows he makes you feel safe.

The thought gnaws at him throughout the day. It outright scalds him as he lies in bed with you after deciding to skip patrol. He’s failed you. Failed to protect you, failed to ensure nothing harms a hair on your head. He’s failed at taking care of you, the one thing that matters more to him than anything else. He’s seconds away from spiraling into self hatred when your sweet voice comes calling, soft and pleading.

“Jay…please stay with me,” you say softly.

Your eyes are clear and focused again. You squeeze his waist tight where your arms are wrapped around him, like you’re physically trying to anchor him in place in your bed. The look on your face says that you know exactly where his mind was headed. You see right through him. It makes him feel more vulnerable than anything else, and it surprises him how much he loves the feeling. And Jason, as always and for eternity, can’t bring himself to deny you. So he pulls himself together and shoves all his self loathing down. He can deal with it later—you need him more right now.

“I’m right here, hayati. Not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

He kisses you gently and feels some of that self hatred wash away when you chase after him for more goodnight kisses. He feels it dissipate even more when you fall asleep in his arms with a soft smile on your face. It’s all but forgotten as he drifts off too, safe in the knowledge that you’re here with him, that he can feel your heart beating pressed tight against his own.

[artgroves]

Bucky Barnes for @cuidadolasllamas

[erwinsvow]

Do you think rafe would wear necklace with his girl’s initial?? Like his girl bought it as a present and i’m curious on how rafe would react 😃

"so what i'm hearin' is you got me somethin' with my own money?" rafe asks, looking down at the neatly wrapped box, a pretty white ribbon looped around it. your fingers play with the satin bow, anxious for rafe to open it.

"rafe!" you start with a whine but stop yourself. "it's the thought that counts, okay?" he laughs, taking the gift from your hands.

"sure, kid. whatever you say." he undoes the bow, setting it aside since he knows you'll want to keep it. the wrapping paper gets ripped up and off, while you protest that it could have been reused. he opens the box, looking down at a thin silver chain. there's a little pendant hanging down, the shape of your initial.

he looks up from the chain at you, waiting for his response with big eyes and parted lips. you're playing with your R necklace, the way you always do when you're nervous.

"d-do you like it? i thought we could match," you say quietly, biting you lower lip in anticipation.

"yeah?" he questions, taking the jewelry out of the box and into his hand, feeling the weight of it in his palm.

"only if you like it. you don't have to wear it, i just-"

"just what?" he looks you right in the eyes, wanting your real answer, not just you bouncing around his question from nerves.

"i just wanted to make sure everyone knows you're mine." you lip stings from where you're biting down, rafe look into your eyes.

he opens his arms, and you crawl into his lap, taking the chain from his palm and putting it around his neck, clipping it into place. you smile, pressing a kiss to rafe's cheek, his hands tight on your waist.

"got that right, kid."