#also I got the barricade so I could see something

[mint-ty]

Finland, we really loved your little gremlin today 🥹🥹🥹

[freesomebodybyluna]

....

[ja3yun]

Undercover Lover | P.JS

detective!jay x detective fem!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), !!rough!!, choking, throat fucking, tit slapping, pure filth, , jay gets like super angry (but he's secretly a sweet soul), swearing, slight mention of alcohol, not proofread.

wc: 9k+

synopsis: you've been forced to work with your work rival, park jongseong, on a case that could bust one of the biggest dealer in seoul, but things don't go according to plan.

(part 2)

a/n: hi! it's me, just giving you a little something while you wait for the sunghoon fic <3 this was originally part of a bigger plot but i didn't finish writing it. Also, if you've ever seen Just Go With It, the dinner scene might be a little familiar since i based it very loosely on it. i hope you like it, it's a bit rough and isn't the best well written because you know i thrive on lovey dovey simp men, regardless, enjoy!

“I cannot believe I got stuck with you on the assignment”

“Feeling is fucking mutual, Park.” 

When your boss told you’d be working with Park Jongseong you protested to the high heavens, and you downright refused when he told you that you would have to pretend to be his wife.

“Absolutely not.” you crossed your arms in a huff, not even sparing a glance at either of the men in the room.

Heeseung groans loudly, “Listen, don’t give me shit okay, I already had it from him,” He points to Jongseong who is leaning casually on the office door, as if barricading you from an easy escape, “You’re the only female on the squad that isn’t on a major assignment right now.” 

“Why can’t he just do it himself?” You ask.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m not buzzed about this either but Kim Kwangmin invited me and my ‘wife’ to a private dinner and overnight stay, and in case you haven’t noticed I haven’t got one of those.” Jongseong pushes himself from the wall as he speaks to you.

Jongseong is undercover to do a massive drug bust that won’t only take down one of the biggest suppliers and dealers in Seoul but also get your department a massive boost in funding and recognition. It was a big deal to your boss and the whole department. You just had to work with your biggest rival in the precinct. 

“Just tell them your ‘wife’ is sick.” You claw to find any excuse not to do this. It wasn’t just pretending to be his wife but the scenario in which you have to; you can’t possibly sit in his company and pretend to be in love with him for a whole dinner.

“It’s either that or I'll suspend you,” Heeseung warns.

“Hee, you can’t do that! It’s unjust suspension.” You proclaim, standing up.

“Yeah, and I’ll file the paperwork,” Heeseung stands to mirror your challenging stance, “You will be Jongseong’s wife. End of story.”

So here you are in his hired car as he drives you to the hotel in the middle of nowhere. In a way, you understand why they basically forced you to do this, the payout would be phenomenal, but you still grudge it.

The drive up has been anything but pleasant. You and Jongseong can’t agree on anything, not even the radio station, so you’ve been in silence for 3 hours, only barking out judgments of his driving or telling him how awful the idea is.

Pulling up to the hotel you stare in awe, it’s a whole different level than you’re used to, the tall white building that looks more like a castle beats every Premier Inn or Motel 6 you’ve been forced to occupy. Despite not seeing the inside, you can already guess the marble detailing and artwork on the ceilings, like something out of a princess movie. 

You’re too busy gawking to realise the car has come to a halt and Jongseong is stepping out of the car, the only thing that alerts you is the unnecessarily loud bang as he slams the door shut behind him. 

Opening the passenger door, you walk around the car to meet him as he flips open the boot to take your suitcase out. Inside, you had everything you’d need for 2 nights: dinner dresses, heels, pyjamas, guns, and handcuffs - all the necessities for a weekend away with your ‘husband’.

Jongseong pulls out your case with one hand and examines it, looking at you quizzically. You don’t understand what he’s so puzzled about, it’s just a suitcase, “What?” you finally ask since he won’t give it to you.

“It’s fluorescent pink…with fucking daisies on it.” His eyes are ridiculing as he looks between you and the case. 

“So what?” You nab it from his grip and wipe it down. A few years ago you had seen the suitcase in a shop window and instantly fell in love with it and had to have it, no matter the cost. Petunia has never left your side since, and being on this assignment wasn’t going to change that.

“You’re supposed to be my wife, not my daughter,” he snarks, pointing dramatically to the semi-childish suitcase, “We are going to meet with the most powerful drug lord in all of Seoul and you’re carrying around a Dora the Explorer bag.” 

You take offence, of course, you would, how dare he compare Petunia to a children's cartoon backpack, “Don’t speak about her like that, she’s got feelings.” 

Jongseong’s face deadpans as you stomp away. He quickly retrieves his own luggage and locks his car before chasing after you. Opposite to your luggage, his is a sleek, black metallic case, that matches his personality - cold and hard. Somehow, your suitcases said everything about each of you.

“You aren’t seriously upset are you?” He asks, pulling you back before you get to the main door, “Look, you can’t fucking blow this for me, okay? I’ve spent months on this case and if we aren’t on the same page, he’ll guess something is up.” 

You want to slap him right now because his tone is so condescending, it’s infuriating, “Apologise.” You face him, eyes tough as they look into his pupils.

Jongseong groans and almost throws a tantrum. Grabbing your arm he takes you to the side, all too well aware how anyone could see you two bickering. He didn’t need this to be the reason he lost this assignment, “Fuck, look, I’m sorry for slagging off your suitcase, okay?” 

But you don’t budge, eyebrows lifted expectantly. Your eyes point down to the pink case, “Don’t apologise to me, apologise to Petunia.”

“Petu-, what the fuck are you talking about, Y/N? I am not saying sorry to a fucking case.” He is going red in the face, frustration coursing through his veins. “Are you really going to be that childish right now?”

You stand your ground, waiting for him. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, hands on his waist once he comes to understand you are not going to let it up. He is going to have to apologise to an inanimate object if he wants to proceed with the weekend, “If I say sorry to…Petunia…will you please start cooperating with me?” As you nod, he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, “Okay, I am really sorry Petunia, I think you’re a lovely suitcase.” 

Feeling accomplished, you grasp the handle of your case and smile, "She accepts." You walk away smugly, head held high, leaving him behind to head to the front doors again, this time with a spring in your step. When you return to the office, you will gladly inform the girls in admin about this.

As you and Jongseong walk into the building, it is exactly how you described it, classic and grand with a bustle of wealthy people. Suddenly, the jeans and blouse you’re wearing don’t fit right on your body. 

Something touches your hand and you yank it away quickly, almost going into defence mode before you look down to see Jongseong’s hand stretched out beside you.

He looks down at his empty hand and back up to you, his face serious, “Take my hand,” He asks, bored of this conversation already.

“Ew, why?” 

“What do you mean ‘why’, you’re my wife, remember?” Oh, yeah…you suppose the charade started as soon as you walked through the massive turnstile door. Sighing, he takes your hand again except this time he successfully intertwines his fingers with yours, the feeling of your hand in his is foreign and peculiar, he doesn’t think he’s ever held hands like this with someone despite being in his 20s, “You ready?”

With a quick nod, you both make your way to the reception desk. The woman behind the counter is physically flawless. The pinned-up hair and her faux mink lashes fanned across her eyes making her gaze sultry, and her plump lips were upturned into a generous smile. 

You could tell Jongseong was a bit taken aback by her beauty because it took him a minute of staring before gathering his words, “Hi, we have a reservation, should be under Hwangs. I believe Mr. Kim Kwangmin arranged everything.”

As soon as he says the criminal’s name, the receptionist straightens her back, face whitening a little. She clearly knew of his nature and like most of the city, she did not want to mess him about. Usually in fancy establishments like this, they ask to see ID before checking people in, but not this time, the girl was too flustered to do anything other than nod and rearrange her desk. It’s lucky for you she didn’t ask for ID considering your undercover operations unit didn’t have time to muster up any fake passports due to the suddenness of the invitation. 

Your aliases for this case are the Hwangs. Apparently, you’ve been married for a year, dating for 3, and dotingly in love with one another. Jongseong is new money, he inherited it from his late Uncle who passed away. Kim Kwangmin prayed on people who had more money than sense, enticing them to create fake companies where he could ship drugs from A to B. That’s why it’s been so hard to catch him because he’s never the name on the papers. But if Jongseong can get him to talk about it in detail, he’s got him behind bars. 

The conversation of a wife came up randomly in conversation, Kwangmin is a family man who loves his wife and kids, and for Jongseong to gain his trust he spouted a load of bullshit about how he was in the world’s most perfect marriage with the love of his life. He doesn’t know why it worked, but he isn’t going to question it now.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hwang, you’ll be in the Ambassador Suite as per Mr. Kim’s written request. I’ll call someone to escort you and take your bags,” She points with her hand to the lift while two men come up to take your things, “If you make your way to the private elevator,”

Jongseong thanks her, bowing as he takes your hand again. All eyes are on you already but that isn’t surprising, it would be more bewildering if no one was watching you considering you’re the prestigious guest of a drug king.

You both get up to your Suite and it is unreal. The lift opens directly into the room and you’re met with nothing but luxury. Perhaps this assignment did come with some perks. Taking your shoes off, you whisper a little ‘wow’ as you look around, the clean cream carpets feel like you are stepping on a cloud, you almost don’t want to put on the complimentary slippers that are waiting for you, but you do anyway, trying to soak up as much of this experience as possible.

Jongseong walks straight ahead, not even soaking in the embellishments of the Suite. He wasn’t one for blissfully looking around, he had a job to do after all. 

You do a quick tour of the place before you hear Jongseong groan, “For fuck sake.”

“Hmm?” You prance over to him, still in a dream-like state from all the luxury and elegance, “What is it?”

“Look,” He keeps staring in front of him as you join him to look at the bed. It looks so inviting, the rich Egyptian cotton throws and fluffy pillows make you want to jump on the bed. So you do.

You take a step back before launching yourself onto it, squealing out a soft ‘wee!’ as if you’re a kid shooting down a slide in the playpark. The way you’re acting is perfectly representative of your luggage but you don’t care, you’re far too busy doing snow angels on the soft duvet, “What’s the issue? This is perfect,” You roll around a few times to really soak it in.

“Just wondering if you’ve had a look around,” He twirls his finger in a circle, looking at you disappointedly.

“Yeah! There’s a bath, a bar, a lounge area bigger than my house,” You go on listing everything you saw. 

“Mhmm, and was there another bed?” He asks.

You think, “No I didn’t see-”. Okay, you see the issue now. There was only one bed. With an annoyed scowl, he shook his head at the sheer obviousness of the situation, as if he was frustrated he even had to address it. 

Sharing a bed was the last thing any of you wanted, so you had to come to an agreement, however, both of you seemed to be thinking the same thing. “You can take the couch.” You both say at the exact same time and it creates an eerie silence in the bedroom.

“This is my assignment, I get the bed.” He argues, walking around to grab you and throw you off, but you use your weight against him, playing dead.

“No! I was forced here, my job was being put on the line, so this is my bed.” While you protest, he’s climbing on the bed, pulling at you to get off, his hands gripping your wrist to heave you off, but you won’t go down without a fight. Kicking your legs, you try to boot him off you, but he’s strong and half of you is off the bed already, “Jongseong! Let go!”

“Stop being a baby and let me have the bed!” He fights back. The hold he has you in is representative of a bodyslam that wrestlers would do in the ring, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, “Come on, Y/N. Give it up.”

With a swift kick, you boot him in the balls, causing him to groan and roll over, body going limp. Panicked, you sit up and check him, “Shit, Jongseong, you good?” But he doesn’t say anything, instead clutching his goods, face screwed in pain. Tucking your hair behind your ear you lean over him, checking his pulse. He might be dead, he hasn’t moved for a hot minute.

Jongseong breathes out, trying to dull the pain. You played dirty, he respected it, but his dick didn’t. 

“Jongseong, hey, I didn’t mea-”

You don’t get to finish your apology because he’s suddenly got his hands on your shoulders and flipping you both around so now you’re the one on your back, his body weight keeping you down, “What the fuck was that?!”

Laughing you let out a pathetic ‘sorry’ but Jongseong isn’t amused. However, the snorts coming from your mouth sweeten his distaste for the situation a little. Quickly, you cover your mouth, shocked at the noises you’ve just made. Staring at each other, you both hit a fit of giggles. You haven’t snort-laughed in so long, not since a girl's night back at the beginning of the year. 

Once the hilarity dies down, you look up at him still hovering over you, the heat from his body bringing a flush to your face that you hope you can pass off as a lack of oxygen from the giggling. However, when he meets your gaze, you notice the same blushed colour across his cheeks. You swear for a whole second he looks handsome, like he has a face you don’t want to punch for once. 

This Jongseong right now shows an unexpected softness in his gaze which brings back memories of when you met him for the first time at the precinct. Back then, he was full of life, free of the responsibilities of the job. For a brief moment, it feels like you've caught a glimpse of a different, more approachable side of him.

Suddenly, his decoy phone he’s been using undercover rings loudly, startling you both off the bed and helping you regain your sense of judgment because the way you were starting to think about Jongseong as he lay on top of you was…It will never happen again.

“That is my bed. Period.” He says, swiping to answer the call on his phone.

Fixing yourself, you do your best to ignore what just happened, grabbing your case from the front door and unpacking it on your bed. 

He walks back into the room and chucks his phone on the bedside table, “Kim wants us for dinner at 8pm sharp. Go get changed.” There he is, the usual mean and cold Park Jongseong. Any feelings you felt earlier are gone with the wind because this is who he truly is. He doesn’t even spare you another look before he leaves to get ready himself.

Just two nights, that’s all it is. 

_______

8pm comes faster than you thought and as you swipe the last bit of lip gloss to your lips, you hear Jongseong complaining about how you will both be late. Instead of paying him any mind, you give yourself the once over in the bathroom mirror. Your makeup is smoky and sultry, and your hair is curled loosely since you didn't have the time to fight with bobby pins to put it in an updo. The dress you’re wearing is a little over the top but when you read the case file you noticed how Mr. Kim loved extravagant, and boy was this dress just that. The black body-con, dinner dress hugged you perfectly and accentuated all the right places, a bold slit travels up your thigh which reveals just enough skin with each stride, and the sweetheart cut paired with off-the-shoulder lace sleeves just add to the drama of it all. You looked like you stepped out of a James Bond movie, which wasn’t a bad thing at all.

“Can you please hurry up,” An impatient Jongseong bangs on the bathroom door.

“Relax, oh my god!” You place the lip gloss in your matching silk bag and walk out to greet your ‘husband’. 

“About fucking time.” He mumbles, looking at his watch, “We need to…go.” His words trail off as he finally sets his eyes on you, “Woah.”

“I look good, huh? Can I pass for a millionaire’s wife?” You twirl, widening the slit to show more of your leg and Jongseong’s jaw nearly hits the floor. He’s so used to you in athleisure wear or jeans with your hair held together by a claw clip that’s missing two prongs, he didn’t think you could look so elegant, so beautiful.

Floating over to him, you place your two fingers under his jaw and close his mouth, “You’ll catch flies, baby.”

Embarrassed, Jongseong regains his senses and swats your hand away, “Shut up. Let’s go.” He pushes you slightly to the door as you chuckle over how flustered he is. It did make you feel a little bit sexier than you did before because if you can make Park Jongseong swoon, you’re definitely going to have the attention of Mr. Kim, and attention is all you need to gain a confession.

With your arm in his, Jongseong leads you to the dining room where you’re set to have dinner. He spent the elevator ride going over the plan. You had to act a little dumb, make him feel like he’s leading the conversation, and be all over your man. Of course, Jongseong would make his wife obsessed with him, he doesn’t get any action outside of this fantasy, well, that’s what you tell yourself. His personality is so repugnant that you can’t imagine anyone being with him. No matter how hot he is, especially in a suit.

His beauty in the tailor-made suit didn’t go unnoticed by you, he looked delicious, but he was still a prick, a prick that hated you.

The dining room is filled with upper-class cartels, all businessmen who would do anything to be on top. It makes you feel a little queasy, but you swallow it down and focus on your role. You state your business to the host and urgently, you’re shown to your table where Mr. and Mrs. Kim are already there. That’s a bad start, no one should ever be late for a meeting with Kim Kwangmin, and by late, that means he gets there before you.

"Mr. Kim, hello." Jongseong's stance is more poised than normal, but you can feel his nervousness. If he cracks this case, he will be the youngest detective to do anything of this magnitude, so you can appreciate what he is going through. In an attempt to reassure him, you swipe your thumb over his arm, which he only feels through his suit jacket. Nevertheless, he’s thankful for it.

Mr. Kim stands and reaches his hand out, “You’re late, Hwang.” 

“Apologies, Sir-”

“That was my fault, Mr. Kim. I made him change a few times. Every suit he was trying on was giving last fall, and I said to him ‘Babe, only the best from Mr. Kim’, Isn’t that right, Jjongie?” You don’t know why you took on the persona of a teenage girl who has a tweet count of 20k, but it seemed to do the trick because Kim Kwangmin is laughing.

“The things we’ll do for our girls, eh?” Mr. Kim says and Jongseong awkwardly laughs with him, nodding. When he looks down at you, his expression is appreciative, “Please, have a seat. I’ve ordered some entrees.” The man extends his arm as he sits himself.

Jongseong bows and pulls out your chair for you and as you sit down, he kisses your cheek lightly, the act of service making your stomach flutter.

This is going to be a long night.

And it was. Jongseong is getting nowhere, every time he tries to hint towards Mr. Kim’s dealings, the man just brushes him off, too busy talking about the stock market and other men in suits kind of chats. To be honest, you zoned out about 20 minutes ago, your fork rolling a pea across your plate. You hate business talk, it’s so mind-numbingly dull. Who cares about all of this, really?

“Ah, Jongseong, looks like I’ve bored your little lady,” Mr. Kim points out and it brings you back to attention. 

“Not at all, Sir, she just gets a little distracted, don’t you, Princess?” He tries to cover for you, eyes glaring at you. 

You giggle and stroke Jongseong’s arm, “I don’t get business talk, I just like the money.” Your fake honesty earns you another laugh from Mr. Kim, he has taken a shine to you throughout the dinner which works in your favour and this is your chance to try and wiggle something out of him, “My baby, spoils me but sometimes he’s so stingy with money.” You pout and Mrs. Kim raises her glass to your statement, clearly understanding your faked pain.

“Tut, tut, Jongseong, we should always spoil our girls.” He reprimands your husband and you nod eagerly, playing your dumb role quite well. If being a detective doesn’t work out, maybe you should try acting.

Jongseong strokes your head and laughs, “I treat her well, that’s why she married me. But I suppose I could venture into bigger waters to make sure she’s well looked after.” Cringe. Jongseong hates to speak about you like you’re nothing but an object, a black hole for his fake money because that’s absolutely not who you are, you’re the complete opposite. You’re strong and brave, and super smart. 

“Oh, Kwangie, let’s get them to do the love list?” 

Damn, that irritating wife of his. Jongseong had brilliantly set the tone for her husband to explain his inner connections, and she simply had to change the subject to what must only be the dumbest idea you've ever heard. You're not even sure what a love list is, but you don't want to participate.

Despite your inner monologue protesting the very thought, Mr. Kim doesn’t share your displeasement, “What a great idea! I tell you, it makes your marriage stronger than ever.” 

Mrs. Kim sees the confused look on both your faces, taking it as her opportunity to explain, “You look each other deep in the eyes, and whisper 3 things you love about one another. If you do it every day, you always see the good in them.” She looks proud as punch, clapping her hands lightly, “Go try it out!” She ushers you both together.

Even if this were a real marriage, why would anyone want to do this at all never mind in front of another couple they’ve just gotten to know? 

Desperately searching for a way out from this awkward charade, you turn to your husband for the weekend, only to find him sporting the same perplexed expression. If you two can't pull this off seamlessly, it's a sure bet that Kim will catch on. Throughout the night, Jongseong and you have been playing the part of lovers to perfection, and if the facade crumbles because you can't conjure up one genuine thing you both appreciate about each other, the entire plan goes to shit.

“C’mon you two, this should be easy, what with how you look at one another. Reminds me of a young us.” He looks at his wife and rubs his nose with hers. It’s hard to believe he is one of the scariest men in Seoul.

Jongseong puts one arm over the back of your seat and tugs you closer to him, staring at you, “I guess we could give it a shot, yeah?” Was he serious? The man hasn’t said one nice thing about you ever, and now he’s going to pluck three things out of his ass? This won’t work.

“Y/N, you go first.” 

Well, shit a brick and call it Mary. You are fucked.

Jongseong sees your worried expression and shakes his head as if telling you to keep it together. He leans into you, “Make up anything, even if it’s not real,” 

Three pairs of eyes stare at you, awaiting your love confessions. What do you appreciate about Park Jongseong? “Um, I think he’s really handsome?” The statement pops out like a question which seems to displease the couple opposite you.

“No, Y/N, start it with ‘I love’ and tell him little things that make you fall in love with him,” Mrs. Kim instructs, giving you another chance.

You cannot fuck it up this time. So you look deep into his eyes and search into him for your history, past all the bickering and agitation. His face softens, knowing this is putting you in an uncomfortable position, and it gives you a line, “I love that he knows when people around him are left out, and he tries to include them in every conversation so they feel seen.” 

Jongseong seems surprised by your answer, or more the sincerity of it. It was true though, you did appreciate that about him. One time, you were sitting as the only girl at the table having after work drinks, and not one of the guys included you in any of the banter, and when Jongseong noticed he pulled you into the conversation - albeit it was poking fun at you, but after that, the guys opened up around you.

Your eyes are still glued to his as you rhyme off another one, “I love that, when you’re not being uptight about things, your face loses its contours and you look so soft and squishy,” you laugh and pinch his cheek, “Like right now,” He hadn’t realised his hard shell had fallen as you spoke to him, making his appearance gentle. 

Giggling as he shakes you off, demeanour now shy, you think of a final one. This has been a lot easier than you thought, and you think you could probably say more than three now that your brain was on a roll.

“And I love the way you push me to be the best version of myself, even when I think your criticism is sometimes harsh and uncalled for, you make me want to be a better de-, person. I love that the most.” 

None of you let up eye contact as Mr. and Mrs. Kim applaud you, thankfully satisfied with your answers. Jongseong’s lips tug at the edges, giving you the first genuine smile of the night. He’s glad you managed to come up with things to keep the pair off your backs, but also because they were real things you liked about him. 

“Hwang, your turn. Tell your girl how you feel.” Kim instructs almost like he’s a love coach and you’re his patients. But Jongseong seems to forget that his alias has a different second name because he ignores the man and just keeps looking at you. You swear at one point he does the triangle method but you can’t be too sure.

“Jjongie?” You utter, voice just above a whisper, “Your turn,”

“I love,” He pauses, licking his lips, “I love that you give inanimate objects names, and care about them like they’re real people,” You laugh, recalling your previous events with your beloved Petunia, “In fact, the way you take care of everyone around you, and how you will do anything for anyone, I love that. That’s my first one.”

He sits with the next one for a while, making you nervous, but you don’t have to be, “I love how you put me in my place whenever my ego gets a little big. You keep me grounded without knowing it.”

You smile and pout at the same time, finding his words infiltrating your heart a little. Jongseong takes your hands in his, rubbing your knuckles gently as he finishes his love list, “I love…that you are by far one of the most beautiful people I have ever had the privilege to be around, inside and out.”

Oh, he is good.

The eye contact you’re both still holding is sparking a fire inside you, the warm feeling in your tummy makes you feel electric, like you could do anything. You’re both so engrossed in one another that you don’t hear the Kims leave, whispering how they should leave ‘you love birds to it’. 

You don’t know how long you sit there just looking at one another, but you think it must be about 10 minutes before you start to notice how quiet it is at your table. Breaking the contact first, you look around and see the man you’re after is gone, “Uh, Jongseong?” 

“Yeah, baby?” He’s still deep in his character, still focused on your side profile.

“They’re gone.” You state, pointing your head to the empty table. This is bad.

Jongseong finally removes his gaze from you to the problem and his face falls. How the fuck did they just sneak out like that? You daren’t look at him because you can already feel the anger radiating from his body. His jaw clenches and he bangs the table loudly, “Fuck!” 

Without a word, he stands up and storms out of the dining room and all the way up to your room, leaving you to waddle after him, not used to the heels you’re in. He is pissed, no he’s livid, seething at the fact his opportunity to get the dirt on the man he’s been after for 8 months just slipped away like water in a sieve. How could you both be so reckless? This never happens to him.

He swipes the key in the door and angrily strips himself of his shoes and jacket, not caring about anything other than how he can make this right. Before the door closes, you catch it, stepping into the room and following him quietly. You don’t know the best way to approach him.

“Jongseong, we still have tomorrow.”

“Like fuck we do, Y/N! This was the dinner to get in on his schemes, to finally get something on the guy I’ve been stuck kissing ass to for months!” He runs his fingers through his hair and tugs it harshly, “If you weren’t so fucking incompetent.”

“ME?! I didn’t do shit,” You argue back, offended. How can he blame this solely on you? As if he wasn’t the main part of this.

He spins and points to you, “You did plenty! Why didn’t you just make a load of shit up for that list and get it over and done with? I was doing great on this case before you turned up and ruined it.”

You don't want to fight with him, but you will since that is your true dynamic, not what you were like at the table, which was just a charade. This was the authentic you and Jongseong, “You’re acting like I did this all on my own but you were the one that brought up having a wife in the first place, you made me be here! And then you started making eyes at me when we were doing those stupid love lists, that’s on you, not me.” 

Jongseong has veins popping all over his body, his frustration overtaking him like you haven’t seen before. You see him charging towards you before he grabs your shoulders with force, but not enough to hurt you. He shakes you a little, “You drive me fucking crazy, I can’t stand you.”

You raise your voice to match his, pushing him off you, “Fuck you, Park!”

“Fine.” Grabbing the back of your head he pulls you to him, smashing his lips against yours. The action is sudden so it sucks the breath out of you. Were you really kissing Park Jongseong? “You’re so fucking infuriating,” His words are venomous but it doesn’t stop him from gripping your hair and pulling your head back to kiss you deeper. 

If you weren’t dizzy from the wine at dinner, you are now. This man is a psychopath, blowing hot and cold, and yet you’re kissing him back with just as much fervour as he is giving, your lips smushing with his. 

When he feels you reciprocate, he waltzes you to the wall behind you, accidentally slanting a few frames on the wall. You've never experienced anything like the force he has over you, and you can't get enough of it.

“I’m gonna ruin you like you ruined my case.” He spits, pressing you flat against the wall with his body, the arousal evident. 

Driven by a blend of rage and lust, your tongues collided furiously, resulting in a passionate kiss. 

Your head is so scrambled that you can’t decide what you want, so you push him off you to give you time to think. 

Standing about a meter apart, both of your chests rise and fall heavily as you pant, already gasping for air from the heated kiss. He looks dishevelled, hair a riot and your lipstick smothered over his mouth, it’s only adding to your attraction towards him.

Both of you stand, staring at one another, waiting for the next move. But who’s going to make it? 

You could, on the one hand, end this right now and give yourselves a little breathing space. You've brought the emotions from the dinner with you, impairing both his and your judgement. If you leave right now, you can stop this and pretend nothing happened.

But on the other hand, if you move towards him and take him how you want to, it’ll change the dynamic of your relationship forever, and possibly not for the better but could it get any worse? The man just said he couldn’t stand you, what’s one night of throwing caution to the wind, of finally claiming what you desire?

Fuck it.

You practically run towards him, almost knocking him over when you jump on him, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him down to your level, kissing him just like before, only this time you’re taking control. It’s the stupidest idea you’ll have this year but you couldn’t give two fucks, the taste of his mouth inebriating. 

Wrapping one of your legs over his, you grind on his thigh, alleviating yourself of the ache that your clit has suddenly developed. It's calling out to him for sweet relief.

“I fucking hate you,” Jongseong says through gritted teeth, his bulge evident in his slacks.

“Fuck me like you do,” You breathe into his mouth. It’s an odd request, usually, the sex you have is filled with love, or at least tolerance, but this time it’s fuelled by pure lust, it’s intoxicating.

Heeding your consent, Jongseong grips your waist tightly and guides you to the bedroom, all the while his mouth is eating yours. The mix of both your spit in one another's mouths is messy and your teeth are hitting off his, you’re both on each other as if you’re on a time limit. Technically you are because one second too long and someone’s clear judgement will start to kick in and stop this. 

Before you throw yourselves into bed, you both have a little issue called ‘clothes’ to take care of first. The gown was nice but he had to see what was hiding underneath.

Reaching for the zip of the dress, he tries to pull it down but it doesn’t budge and he’s too impatient for this right now, longing for your body. After a few tugs it doesn’t budge and he growls, annoyed at this hurdle of inconvenience. He looks down, inspecting the dress to see if he can just pull it over you but he sees a better, more efficient idea.

His hands grip the fabric of your dress at the slit, fingers digging into the material and each side and with a sudden, forceful tug, the threads snap as your beautiful, very expensive gown is torn in half. He uses every muscle in his arms to rip it off you, he’s never been more thankful for hitting the weights 4 days a week.

“Jongseong!” You gasp, annoyed that he’s just ruined your clothes but he doesn’t care, not when you’re standing before him with nothing but your black thong, tits out, and the garter for your gun. He isn’t saying he’s imagined this scenario before, but you’re more gorgeous than he could have ever pictured. 

Throwing the torn dress across the room, he makes way for your mouth again, only this time his hands are massaging your boobs roughly. You can feel the grit on his hands, a testament to the hard work of your job, but the scratchiness of his fingertips only makes you weak at the knees, the sensation of him all over your tits was magical.

For a little revenge, and because you can’t wait any longer, you rip open his white linen shirt, buttons consequently popping and flying across the room. He’s kissing you so forcefully you don’t even get to bask in how his tanned skin contrasts the paleness of his shirt, or how his torso is perfectly lean, not too ripped.

You rub your hands all over him as if trying to memorise every muscle and tense abs. The feeling of your hands dancing over him has Jongseong snarling softly as your mouths continue to meld together, “Such a pain in my ass, L/N.” 

It’s an invitation to slide your hands down to his ass and squeeze his cheeks and at the same time push his cock onto your core. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his nails digging into you, scraping harshly. You’ll definitely have marks in the morning.

With a determined shove, he propelled you onto the bed, a sense of urgency driving his actions. Jongseong needed you. Now.

Just like your dress, your flimsy thong is torn from your body, the burn of the material being ripped along your skin only heightens your pleasure. You’re laid spread on the bed, waiting for his next move, but when he doesn’t budge, too busy drinking in the sight of you, you need to take matters into your own hands.

Situating yourself on your knees, you undo his trousers and pull them down with his boxers, freeing his hardened cock of the confinements. The mixture of the natural breeze from the room and your hot breath makes him twitch in anticipation, “You want to suck my cock?” You’re so infatuated with his shaft and the veins running along it that you don’t register the mocking tone of his voice which normally you would snap at.

Jongseong grips your jaw so tight your mouth automatically opens. He tilts your head up so you both look at each other, eyes hazed with desire, “Fucking take it, then.”

With that, he’s shoving his length into your mouth, pushing you down until he feels the resistance of your throat. He’s not a monster, he isn’t just going to start abusing your mouth, but he does shallowly thrust his dick a few times, testing the waters. Fueled with rage or not, he’s not going to hurt you.

You on the other hand, swirl your tongue around his shaft as you bob your head up and down, loving the feeling of him filling your mouth. Personally, you don’t mind it rough, and by the look on Jongseong’s face, he’s holding back a little. It’s oddly sweet considering he looked like he could have murdered you 10 minutes ago.

Placing both your hands on his hips, you sink your closed throat around the tip of his cock, pulling him in as deep as he can go.

Jongseong’s hands clenched into fists and grabbed your hair, his knuckles turned white from the intensity of the sensation. He tries to push deeper into your throat, meeting your gag reflex with a groan. 

You push his hips out before pulling him back in harshly, giving him a hint of what you want. Fortunately, Jongseong has always been a fast learner, “You want me to fuck your throat, hmm?” You hum around him which elicits a wicked smirk on his face, “Good.” 

Rapidly, his hips move on their own, his cock now fucking your mouth and throat raw. It burns in the best possible way, the taste of his pre-cum sliding onto the back of your tongue each time he pulls back makes you moan. 

“You look so much prettier when your mouth is stuffed with my cock,” He comments, noting how much he loved the way you looked with your eyes watering and puffed out. You look like a dream, a dream he hopes he never wakes up from.

He holds your head still will both his hands, ass clenched as he fucks into you, mind completely lost in the feeling of your mouth.

Jongseong loves to be in control, not dominant, but his partners definitely know their place, and it’s to be putty in his hands.

What he doesn’t notice is how he actually isn’t in charge, you’re just making him think he is. It was you that decided whether this happened or not, it was you who got him to fuck your throat dry, and it’s you that’s going to make him cum.

Sucking harder, you’re trying to coax him to cum all down your throat, to help soothe the pain, but he won’t let that happen. Yanking at your hair, he pulls you off and you gasp for air, not realising you are losing oxygen. 

He almost unnoticeably checks to see if you’re okay, gazing softly into your eyes, but once he sees you smiling, he goes right back to his ways, pushing you down onto the bed and crawling over you. 

The way he's confined you beneath him causes your body to arch up to meet him and draw his entire weight onto you; his bare cock accidentally scrapes against your clit, causing your hips to buck up to gain friction. 

“So fucking desperate for me. I haven’t even made sure you can take me yet,” He teases, his hips moving slowly to slide his cock between your folds, gathering your slick as natural lube. You’re so wet you don’t even need any help, his cock could slide right in.

“I can take it,” You match his arrogance, not completely sure of the certainty in your words because he’s big, but it’s all to do with his length rather than girth, so you think you can handle it. Plus, you won't ever back down from a challenge set by your work foe. 

His face looks a little dubious too, like he doesn’t believe you. You’ll just have to prove it to him.

You smoothly flipped him over on the bed, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. As he landed beneath you, you held him in place, the thrill of the unexpected move adding an extra spark to the moment. It’s a carbon copy of how he pushed you onto the bed before dinner, just with way less clothes.

Not wasting any time you pump his cock a few times and spit on it, mixing the fluids of your saliva and his cum to help him ease into you.

“Fuck, you sure you can handle-” Jongseong’s words stop in place when his cock breaches your entrance as you start to sink onto him, “Holy shit,” He whispers, eyes shut tight as he feels the way you’re hugging his cock, the heat of you travelling to him. You feel sensational.

You start with shallow bounces, not taking his whole length into you just yet, but even just the 3 out of 6 inches you are experiencing are driving you wild. 

Jongseong wants nothing more than to bottom out and claim you right here and now but there’s something so satisfying about seeing you struggle to hold your weight up as you ride him. He could have some fun with this.

His hands rub your thighs, one of which moves closer to your cunt. You're too preoccupied to notice, so when his thumb circles your clit, you lose your balance and collapse onto him, all of his cock buried inside you now. The sudden stretch was glorious like you don’t understand why you didn’t just sit all the way on his dick in the first place.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Too full of my cock to keep going?” He comments on your still body. Truthfully, you were just basking in the way his cock is stuffing you while his thumb keeps up the rhythm on your clit, you really didn’t have to move. But he’s taunting you to keep going and you can’t let him get away with it, he’ll never let you live it down if you just sit there. He’d call you selfish or a lone player, whatever else he’s called you at work.

So you start to move, grinding random shapes that would hilt his tip into all the perfect places inside your heat.

Like putty in his hands. He smirks, his tongue swipes his bottom lip as he watches you work for it. 

Your hands try to grasp anything that will aid you, but all you have is your hair, which isn't ideal but threading your fingers and pulling at the hairs on your scalp reminds you of how he had an iron grip on you when he first kissed you. 

Jongseong has to admire you right now because you’re taking your pleasure into your own hands, he’s basically doing nothing and he thinks you might be close to cumming. The competitive side of him knows what to do because he will be damned if he isn’t pounding you, making you scream his name as you cum.

He fucks up into you, taking over and making you lose the pace you had set. You would complain if he wasn’t hammering into you so good. The moans leaving your mouth are frenzied, calling out for more, which he’ll happily give you, just not in this position.

Cradling your back he sits up and throws you so he’s on top, your head now hanging off the end of the bed, the instant blood rush turns your brain to mush, and all the while he doesn’t stop thrusting into you, each time he moves, it hits a new spot you didn’t know you had. He’s fucking you so good, you’ll never get enough.

Jongseong dislikes the fact that he can't see your face, so he yanks you back onto the bed by your legs, causing him to dig deeper into your pussy. Once your fucked out face comes back into view, he smirks because you’re completely gone, eyes shut as you feel every inch of him. 

“Told you I would ruin you, didn’t I?” He grits out, slapping your left tit, causing you to yelp back into the world, your eyes now watering at the sting.

“Not ruined me enough,” You bite back, egging him on to go rougher. 

He tilts his head in disbelief as he keeps battering your pussy with his cock, the audacity you have to say that when you couldn’t even speak a minute ago. Roughly, grabs the back of your head and pulls you forward, his forehead against yours as his eyes burn deep into yours, “Say that again.” 

Every fibre of your body tells you not to speak another word, but you never listened to yourself anyway, “You couldn’t ruin me as bad as you ruined your case.”

“Fuck you.” He grips your throat keeping your head up and kisses you roughly, his tongue sweeping all along your mouth. Jongseong can only see red because it was you who made him forget about the assignment because it was your eyes he was getting lost in. This was your fault and no one else. 

Harshly, he pins you back to the bed by your neck, not squeezing too harshly, but just enough to restrict your breath flow. He saw how much you loved the head rush earlier, so he took that as a sign you would like to be choked while he fucks you.

He was right.

“You know what? I’m going to make my own list,” He breathes out, “My hate list.” 

You’re a little confused but you’re too drunk on his cock to understand even the simplest of sentences.

Jongseong begins to snap his hips into you with each sentence, “I hate that you think you’re better than me,” His grip squeezes your throat, “I hate when you suck up to the boss’ ass and stick me in shit when it’s convenient for you.”

You let out a whimper at his brute force, “Jongseong…please,” You try to fuck onto him more, the single thrusts not giving you what you want quick enough, but that only earns you another squeeze of your jugular.

“And I hate that I love how good you’re pussy feels,” Your ears prick up at the twisted compliment, a sense of accomplishment coming over you, “You drive me batshit crazy, and I fucking love it.”

He withdraws his hand from your throat and trails it back down to your bud, now focusing all his efforts on helping you finish. 

“I hate that you can’t just admit you like me,” You breathe out, voice hoarse. 

For a split second, he stops all his movements, but he refuses to acknowledge what you just said because it’s not true. He doesn’t like you, not one bit…

This was treading into dangerous territory and Jongseong knew it, so he had to end this fast. With one smooth movement, he hoists your back up to arch it and pounds himself deep into you, his balls slapping against your ass due to his relentless pace. He was showing you no mercy, he was showing you how much he hated your guts.

“I’m cumming, Jjongie,” You whine out.

He notices the nickname and, while he won't admit it, he likes it. Only when you say it, or rather how you say it, especially now that you're clenching down on him and cumming over his cock. The way your pussy clamps him causes him to blast his load deep into you, his previously tactical thrusts now hilted so he can fill you up. 

Shared pants echo the room as you both sit in the consequences of your actions. 

You just fucked Park Jongseong - and you liked it. The mix of anger and desire just added a new level to sex you didn’t think possible. 

Abruptly, he gets off you, and his cock slips out of you leaving you feeling a little empty, “I’ll take the couch,” he says, face hard with seriousness. He was just going to leave you like this? Weren’t you going to talk about what just happened? 

“Oh…okay.” You say deflated. 

Jongseong notices and turns his head to you, his back still in clear view, but he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he sighs and picks up his case, retreating to the living area of the hotel suite. 

You feel a little tacky, not just physically but mentally. You weren’t expecting love and kisses after the sex, but a little ‘That was good’ or even ‘Are you okay?’ would have been enough. 

Attempting to push aside the lingering thoughts, you slip off of the bed and head to the shower, determined to rid your body and mind of all traces of his presence. As you retrieve your pyjamas and walk by him, you inadvertently overlook the gloomy expression on his face, like he wants to do more but he already complicated your relationship enough when he kissed and then fucked you, in his mind, it was best just to forget about it.

_____

The next morning you awake with the brightness of the day shining on your face. Your body is sore from the way Jongseong handled you last night. If it was any other circumstance, you would probably be smiling, reliving the best fuck you’ve had for years, but you’re not smiling. You can’t, not after he left you so coldly.

A buzzing from your phone diverts your attention into the real world. You read his name at the top of your phone and you begin to read the plethora of messages from this morning

Park Jongseong

5:12am: 

Gone to see if I can arrange lunch with him.

Wear something nice.

5:32am: 

Meet us at 11am in the dining room.

7:23am:

I’m sorry for last night.

I was a prick.

You ignore the apology and look at the time, it’s currently just past 10am which means you better get your ass in gear and get ready. 

It’s time to be Jongseong’s devoted wife.

[runawrites-blog]

No Takebacks (Deadpool x Reader)

Summary: After a mission, you jokingly propose to Wade but he takes it seriously. (Gender-Neutral Reader) Word Count: 805 Warnings: Fluff. Happy Crying. Mentions of Fights and Dead Bad Guys. Reader Works With The X-Men. Wade Works With The X-Men. No Y/N. A/N: I have so many WIPs and Drafts right now and even one request. But I swear I am working on it and I will upload it as soon as I finish it ^^

--- “That was the last one!”

You turned to Wade, nodding your head once as you put your hands on your hips and surveyed the scene, taking in the bad guys all scattered around the now-empty shopping mall while Colossus did quick work getting the civilians to safety. Then you turned back to Wade, giving him a victorious smile before you nodded toward the carnage.

“Want me to help collect all the knives you threw at the bad guys?”

“Thank you, Babe. Those were expensive!”

And so you got to work, climbing into a nearby candy store through its busted-out storefront, looking around to see if any of the knives Wade had thrown at the bad guys that had barricaded themselves inside were still around. You found two knives, one that hadn’t hit the mark and another that you had to pull out of someone’s neck.

“Found anything?”

You looked up to find Wade climbing inside before nodding and raising his small knife in your hands. “I got two knives, one of them is your Baby Knife, so that’s a win.”

“Perfect!” Wade grinned happily and came over, pulling his mask off and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You then went back to looking around, digging through the candy that littered the floor after the fight but you found no more weapons around. You did find something else. Bending down at your hips you picked up a small red Ring Pop, still packaged in a little plastic bag and you quickly decided to make a joke, to lighten the mood after the fight.

Gingerly, you unpacked the ring pop and pulled it out before hiding it in your hand and approaching Wade who was currently pulling a dagger out of another opponent's thigh, his back turned to you. When you reached him you tapped him on the shoulder and before he could turn you got down to one knee, revealing the Ring Pop once your partner was looking at you.

“Wade, will you marry me?”

You would have expected anything, from a teasing comment to laughter. What you hadn’t expected was silence. And then frantic nodding from Wade as his hands came up to his cheeks, the dagger clattering to the floor. Any notion of his reaction being a joke went out the window when you saw tears escaping his eyes, running down his cheeks.

“Yes, of course!”

You were at a complete loss of how to react but you knew that if you went back on your proposal it would probably break Wade’s heart. It wasn’t like you wouldn’t love being married to Wade but it had never real come up as a topic of conversation, so you had always assumed marriage was far in the future. But now he was crying with joy and you felt genuinly happy about him agreeing to marry you, so you got up from your knee and held out the ring to him.

Wade grinned happily as you slipped it onto his finger and then he reached out to grab your face with both his hands to kiss you deeply, eyes falling shut. You blinked in surprise, still taken aback by the fact that you had just accidentally gotten engaged but also not put off by the thought of it. Slowly, you reciprocated, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around him.

When Wade pulled back he still had tears in his eyes but he was smiling so widely that you knew this had been the best split-second decision you had ever made. And you smiled back at him just as widely. Before either of you could say anything you two were interrupted by Colossus entering, calling out your names and making you turn.

“Are you ready to leave? The hostages are all safe and the remaining criminals are being taken into custody. You two are taking very long in here.”

Wade turned around, letting go of you to place his hands on his cheeks dramatically. “Guess what just happened!”

“Do I want to know?”

“I’m getting married.” Wade exclaimed, limping his wrist and holding out the finger the ring was on. “My beautiful partner just proposed to me!”

Colossus looked at Wade and then at you, face contorting in confusion. “Right after the battle and with candy?”

“Are you kidding me? That’s perfect!” Wade answered before you could, grinning at Colossus. “It’s beautiful to be known and understood so thoroughly! I mean what better way to get proposed to? And no, I don’t need you to answer that. That was an ironic question!”

You chuckled at Wade’s words and put your hands on his shoulder. “How about we get out of here? We can probably find a better way to celebrate than staying here.”

“I can think of something!”

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hi! I love your blog so much. I was hoping you could write what yandere!batfam would do if the reader just barricaded themselves in a room and does everything to make sure batfam can't get in. I hope you have a great day and drink plenty of water.

Thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog, and I am absolutely going to do a snippet for this!

Warnings: (implied) hunger striking, captivity, themes of obsession, violence, and threats of restraints as well as physically restraining someone.

“You know that’s only going to hold us out for so long, right?”

It’s Jason. You don’t respond, keeping silent. It was just another trick, you knew, to get you to open the door.

Not that they only needed a door. You’d shoved the massive bookcase in front of the window, shoving your bed in front of it. Your desk, and the final bookshelf, had gone to block the door.

You had no doubt it wouldn’t hold them long. It just had to hold them long enough.

“Come on, kid, think about this. Open the door, and I’ll try and talk the old man down from taking the damn door off it’s hinges.”

You hiss softly in alarm, because you had thought Bruce was gone. You thought he was away, in Nepal, in a business trip. Otherwise there was no possible way you would have been able to pull this off, you knew.

“You didn’t know the old man was back? He got a call from Dickiebird, he’s on his way to the Manor as we speak, kid. You really want him to start breaking down the door? He will, you know it.”

You keep quiet, fingers buried in the soft carpet, and try to focus. Try to breath. Bruce being here changed things. Dick being here changed things.

“Who’s all in the Manor?”

You manage to croak out, and Jason pauses.

“Not sure I should be telling you that, kid. I’ll cut you a deal, though. Tell me why you’re pulling out the anti-siege tactics and I’ll tell you some names.”

You shake your head, before you remember that Jason couldn’t see you. That was fine.

“No deal.”

You weren’t going to be explaining to them that you felt suffocated, more often than not. That they were always there, constantly hovering, a hand on your shoulder or an arm linked around yours. That you had so little agency that you felt you were going insane, on a good day.

“Then guess you’re gonna be in the dark. Head up, though. Golden Boy’s pissed.”

That manages to rip the air from your lungs. Dick was scary as hell when he got angry, scary enough that out of all your siblings captors, his anger would immediately send you into a near frenzy. He got fucking mean when he was mad, and he knew how to use his words to cut to the bone.

“What and you aren’t?” You taunt, frantically trying to stop the way your heart thunders in your ears and the way your blood pulses in your veins.

“Oh no, I’m pissed. Pissed enough I’m keeping this door between the two of us, because I don’t want to traumatize ya.” It’s- it’s almost cheerful, the way he says it, so matter of fact, but the words are phrased in a way that you know they’re true. Every syllable is tense and clipped, not quite grit out and hidden behind the easygoing bluster.

“Yeah, well, I’m also pretty into keeping the door between us.” You snap, because you are impulsive and dumb and holy shit you did not think this through.

You hear the faintest sound from Jason, and when he speaks again, his voice is sharp, sharp enough you cringe back and try not to panic.

“I fucking bet, you brat. What exactly are you planning to get out of this, huh? Planning on going on a hunger strike or something?”

The door rattles in the frame, and you yelp, alarmed.

A sigh, and when Jason speaks again, it’s softer. Cajoling.

“Listen. Bruce and Golden Boy are gonna be here soon. We can do this two ways. You either open the door, apologize to me for being an absolute menace and driving me insane, or it gets busted down, and you leave the room anyways, except with a lot more yelling and a lot higher chance of Bruce not letting you out of his sight for months. Literally.”

You bite your lip, hands fisted in the rug.

“I’m not opening the door, Jason.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You hear his footsteps leave. For a second, you take a moment to breathe, air whistling between your teeth, the AC loud in the quiet room.

“Open the door.”

You jump, nearly leaping a foot in the air, and the startled sound dies in your chest, eyes wide.

Bruce. Bruce was on the other side of the door, right now, and he was pissed. Pissed enough that his voice had that gravelly, rough quality it got when he was being stern and already mad as hell but trying not to show it.

“No.”

Your voice sounds small, even to you. You try to ignore it.

The door rattles on it’s hinges. It seemed, with a locked door and several heavy oak dressers between you and him, he was determined to move both. It rattles again, this time louder, and you shriek in alarm when the desk creaks. How fucking hard was Bruce hitting it?

“(Y/N), unless you want me to break this door down, open the door.” Bruce sighs after he speaks, and then breathes in, like he was trying to calm himself down.

“I know you’re scared right now. But just open the door and come out, and we can talk about why you did this, okay? I’m sorry I frightened you.”

You feel tears prick at the side of your face, feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the fear. You want to shake your head.

You don’t say anything, and he sighs again.

This time, it’s not just the door that rattles. The desk shudders, straining against the weight thrown against it, and the shelf creaks, then sways.

You’re smart enough to back up and away before it comes crashing down. Not that you don’t doubt Bruce knew you were away from the shelf, or he never would have risked toppling the heavy thing.

When he ducks through the doorway, picking his way over the shattered desk and shelf, you back away, hands trembling. He pauses.

“(Y/N). Why don’t you come over here so we can clean the mess up, and we can talk about this in a bit? Just take a breath, okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. It makes some of the anger drain from his features, that you weren’t hurt, but you don’t get any closer and his lips press into a thin line.

“(Y/N). Come here.”

It’s stern. It reminds you of the same voice he uses every time you try and escape or fight with your siblings. It makes your stomach twist.

Your eyes flick to the door, and Dick, who was standing not far from the door way, sharp blue eyes watching you for any movement.

You make your decision, swallow, and ease forward.

Warm arms wrap around you the second you’re in reach, pressing you against Bruce’s chest, and you feel a bit of the tension in his shoulders unwind, just barely.

“This isn’t happening again, (Y/N). Do you understand me? What if you had gotten hurt, when the shelf came down? What if you had gotten hurt when you were in here and couldn’t say anything?”

Bruce was pissed, and he grips you tightly, tightly enough that you squirm in his hold, which only makes him grip you tighter.

“I wouldn’t have gotten myself hurt! It’s practically an empty room half the time, what could I have hurt myself with?”

God, you hated it when your mouth ran faster than your thoughts.

“That’s not what matters.” Dick cuts in. “The issue is that you could’ve, and we couldn’t have done anything about it!”

He pissed, practically spitting out the words, and you can hear Bruce’s frown.

“Dick, you need to calm down.”

“No! This is the fifth time this month they’ve tried something, you have to do something, Bruce! It’s stressing everyone out!”

You open your mouth to argue, ready to defend yourself because you hadn’t asked for any of this, but Bruce speaks before you can.

“I will.”

And suddenly you are far more preoccupied with trying to prevent Bruce from picking you up, twisting and squirming to get away, but he catches you easily. He presses you against him, this time the action restraining, and lifts, taking your feet off the ground.

The entire trip through the Manor, you are twisting and pushing against him, trying to escape. You nearly get close, once, when he was adjusting his hold and you had snapped your teeth at him, but Dick had lurched froward for a moment and it had startled you so badly that you had frozen, giving him time to readjust.

You’re dumped on a medical cot, and when you see the straps on either side, it nearly takes the both of them to hold you down long enough to get them on. Bruce looks pained the entire time, as you kick and flail, and when they’re both done, your arms are strapped securely enough that yanking on them does nothing.

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bruce frowns, and then sighs, moving the cot. You’re moved with it, and you glare. “This is only temporary until we find a more permanent solution, (Y/N). Until we can trust you not to be a danger to yourself, alright? It won’t last long.”

Dick doesn’t look like he agrees.

You don’t either.

[shytastemakerthing]

Hi! Could I request headcanons of the Overblot Students with a Yuu who can read minds please? Thank you!!

A/N: Hello and thank you so much for your request! I wasn't sure if the mind reading was something that could turn on and off or if it was something activated at all times, so I did a mix of both to make it a bit easier! I really like the idea of this Yuu! I hope that you enjoy!

Request: OB Boys with Yuu who can read minds

Tw: Mentions of blood in Azul's, Jamil's, Vil's, and Malleus' sections

At first, he had no idea that there was even a magic of this caliber that existed. There had always been speculation, but to hear that you are capable of such? He had his doubts at first

That was, until you told him exactly what he was thinking that very moment

Turns out you can choose whether or not you are going to read someone's mind, which is a relief for him, granted, he knows that it isn't your fault

Okay, yeah, he believes you now

Does it come with any side effects? Headaches? Blurry vision? Anything like that?

He is both fascinated but also worried

A power like that would be easily covered and people would want to use your ability to their advantage

Thankfully, he is not that type of person

If you've had a harder day, he will invite you over to Hearyslabyul, in his room where it is nice and quiet for a glass of warm tea and strawberry tarts

Just let him know if anything happens, he will be there for you as soon as s he can

For this, you really had no control over whether or not you could read someone's mind, so your head is always quite loud when in heavier populated areas, which is why the botanical gardens seemed to be perfect for you right now

This was how you met Leona

You don't really hear the thoughts of others when they are sleeping so you had no clue that he was there until you had stumbled upon him

At first glance, he could tell that you were in pain, and didn't know as to why, and then a group of students came in from Crewel's class and your pained expression only got worse

Consider his curiosity piqued

After locating you in a secluded area, he came to learn of your ability to read the minds of others, but it was also something you had no control over

So being in an area with a lot of people, with an ability you can't control, no wonder the migraines are a nightmare

Once together, he tries to find some solutions here and there to be able to help you out. From secluded areas for you two to be where he knows no one will be, to seeing if there is anything to lessen the noise in your head

No luck yet, but he tries just for you

If things are getting to be too much for you, come and find him. He isn't always the best with comfort and such but he knows just how to help you feel better

For this, you have control whether or not you can read the mind of someone else

Azul first learned of your little ability shortly before his own OB when he was working to get you into a contract and you literally just told him everything that he was planning and thinking of the moment that he would get you to sign

Cue a surprised look from all three members of the fish mafia

Now he really wanted to get that contract

After all, having magic that allowed you to read the minds of others? Why, it was unheard of

Post OB is a bit different

First, there was no way to actually take your ability, it was something unique to you

Next, he saw firsthand just how hard it can be on you, and where you also saw just how much he cares for you

Your ability had gotten a bit out of hand, when trying to see into one mind led you to tapping into everyone's mind, in this case, instead of one person, it was dozens

The bloodshot eyes, a bloody nose, and a killer migraine, the amount of sheer pain you were in as everything flooded in all at once

He had taken you to his own room in the dorm and had essentially barricaded the door shut to make sure no one got in

Jade and Floyd got everyone out, Azul removed his coat and put it over you and even brought you into the octo pot, seeing as it was darker and far more quiet

Seeing you starting to get better brought a great deal of relief to him

If a moment like this happens again, come to him as soon as you can and he will ensure that everything will be taken care of

After hearing of your ability to selectively read the minds of anyone else, he begins to wonder if you had ever read his, but assuming the events of his OB, it was safe to assume that you didn't respecting the privacy that the man had

Honestly, it makes him feel rather warm inside to know that you wouldn't violate him in such a way

Which has him feeling certain things knowing that he has quite literally brainwashed you into doing what he wanted, an ability just as invasive as your own

It took a lot of work for him to actually forgive himself for something like that, but once you are both in a relationship, he does all he can to take care of you and make up to you with what he has done, but only to you

He once saw the effects that your ability could have

A couple other students heard of this ability of yours and were begging you to try and read their minds, so many of them beginning to crowd around you, that it went from one mind, expanding to the rest and you nearly collapsed then and there

He was quick to grab you and get everyone else away from you before taking you back to his room and slammed the door

Jamil sat you on his bed as he grabbed a wet wash cloth and began to carefully clean up the blood that was dribbling from your nose

Seeing how tired you were afterwards, he loaned you some of his own pajamas and would let you rest in his bed.

Tucking you in, he would place a small kiss to your forehead before heading out to make you a fresh meal..... and to ensure that those students will never bother you again

He was rather skeptical at first when he heard of your ability to read the minds of others. No ability like that had ever been seen before, at least, not one that was permanent

But after the events of his own OB, and everything that was happening with Neige and what he was planning to do, he found it to be much more believable

But he also learned that you had no control over when you would read someone's mind. If you could see them, you could hear them

And now it made more sense about why you really did not want to go to VDC. There had to be hundreds of not thousands of people there, and you were on that stage dealing with him, able to see each and every one of them

Which would explain the amount of blood pooling from your nose, your blood shot eyes, even dripping past your lips

And yet, you still managed to help him

It was something he never wanted to see again

You being in that much pain

So after getting together, Vil specialized in making a potion that he could actually take that would work as a null agent against your ability, which made you cry the first time. For once, everything was quiet

He will get you anything you need for pain when the side effects begin to kick in, he is a pro at this point

Which is why he was as scared as he was when you stumbled into the dorm with a bloodied nose, the same bloodshot eyes, and look of pain

Rook and Epel were quick to clear everyone out as Vil led you to his room after giving you a tissue to hold to your nose

Sitting you in his bathroom, he helped get you all cleaned up, washed your face, even as you were falling asleep in his hold with the soothing sensations he was providing

He didn't have the heart to wake you up, so he merely picked you up and laid you in his bed, smiling oh so softly at just how serene you looked

He may not be the hero in everyone else's eyes, but he was the hero in yours, and that as enough

After knowing of your ability, it was both a blessing and a curse at the same time for him

On one side, you would always know what he needed or wanted and he didn't even have to say anything, on the other hand, he would never know when you would peek into his mind

After assuring him that you would never peek into his mind unless you had his full permission, he felt a bit better about it

Knowing the side effects that using your ability can have, will always invite you to his room

No people to give you unnecessary pain, calm and quiet, mind wise. He made no promises if he got really into a game

But it was the thought that counts

Literally

You have become so in-tune with him that you can tell what he is thinking just by thinking about him

Which comes in handy when you are coming to visit and you already have a bag full of snacks he was wanting to have

It was moments like this where he absolutely loved your ability, and honestly wanted it as well

Knowing what someone wanted and needed without having to actually talk to them?

It was a dream for him

Coming to him one day with a killer migraine and stumbling steps, he knew it was a harder day

Idia lets you crash on his bed as long as you need and is easily able to keep everyone else away from you until you're better

Perhaps this time around, he'll just have one of his handheld games and climb into bed with you

You knew he was there outside of Ramshackle before you even saw him, his thoughts being rather loud that night

Now, you haven't gone to see him just yet so when you two finally met for the first time, and you already knew who he was despite giving him that silly little nickname, he was rather curious

No one told you his name and you hadn't seen each other and yet you knew him?

You saw it in his mind?

You can't control it?

That would explain how you always knew that he was out here before you ever saw him, given you couldn't sense his own magic

He sees first hand just how out of control your ability can get when too much comes in all at once

It had been in the middle of the day, classes had gotten out for the day and at the time, you had been away from other people

But there were a number who had seen you, and your reputation seemed to be rather well known somehow, and let's just say they wanted to see if it was true that you could read the minds of others

It was well over a dozen people from a number of dorms that group around you, thoughts racing and loud

Too loud

You don't exactly recall what happened after that, only that you were waking up in Diasmonia in none other than Malleus' room as he was rinsing out a bloodied wash rag Lilia had given him to help

You would explain to him that too much all at once, getting too loud, it tends to have some nasty side effects........ he's keeping you here for the rest of the day

Please, if anyone else gives you trouble, merely say his name and he will not hesitate to take care of those who are troubling you

Thank you so much for your request! Have a wonderful day/night!

[edgeray]

Hi ray

Could write dragon! Arlecchino x hunter! Reader who hunts dragon because she was tasked to even tho she didn't wish to do so but little did the reader know that arlecchino is very strong

So when the reader was tasked she was warned by the villagers but what could the reader do but to only obey the orders when the reader met arlecchino trying to hunt her down she failed to do so

Dragon Hunter Mother

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Like always, if you want to request something from me again anon, give yourself a name/emoji ☺️ Also, I love this idea. I don't plan out my requests, plot just kinda comes as I write, so let's see what I do with this. I'm assuming you also want reader to be afab as well. Since you didn't say about arlecchino having a human form, I'm just not going to write it. Don't ask me how this turned to be over the limit I said these requests were gonna be. I got carried away with world building and plot. Sorry 😬 . Hopefully this was okay? Honestly, didn't know how I would make it romantic, but I guess I'll put it under romantic? I tried by best anon, feel free to request again if you want me to write it in a different way 🫶. Sorry for taking so long, but here it is!  Content warnings / info - author doesn't know how to write dragons, semi-graphic violence, if it wasn't obvious, Freminet, Lyney, and Lynette make an appearance, 2.6k words 

Stemming from a long line of dragon hunters, it was no surprise that like the rest of your siblings, you would take up the mantle of also being a dragon hunter. Dragon hunting is a service to the kingdom exclusive to only a few noble families like yours, hence why its hunters are practically revered by the kingdom's citizens. Protecting the kingdom, receiving glory after every slaughter, earning a large chunk of the kingdom's money, it's no doubt that many aggrandize and covet to be in the same position. 

You've never wanted to be a dragon hunter. It's an arduous job in a kingdom known for its dragon outbreaks. The Majesty is prompt in requesting dragon hunters, sending them from one corner of the kingdom to the other unhesitatingly, and frequently underestimate the duration that these kill orders take. When the process of dragon hunting involves tracking the dragon, finding the dragon's sanctum, preparing to combat against a dragon, and finally, killing it, it takes at least a week if it's one of the older dragons. The Majesty has high expectations, and it's a struggle to keep up with them. Kill orders were often piled on top of one another, which means immediately after you complete one, it is off to finishing the next one.

It is a job of ruin. When was the last time you've gotten more than a few hours of sleep? The last time you've had a full meal? The last time you were able to have a relaxing bath? 

Killing dragons is not how you would like to waste away your life, slaving away under a duty that everyone idolizes. As you carry on your role, you begin to learn more and more about these flying reptiles; dragons are fascinating, intelligent creatures. It is a shame that many villagers are so terrified of them, dragons actively avoid humans; though for one reason or another, dragons occasionally seek the nearest human civilization, eating farm animals and destroying any shelter or barricade that stands in their way. Perhaps you're just foolish, but you believe that there is a real reason for this behavior, and that there could be a solution to this. 

Until then, you could do little more but heed each order, slaughtering dragon by dragon. Their dying cries plague your dreams every night, leaving you empty and restless. 

You arrive at a village, the emblem on your chest plate that indicates your occupation glints as you step out of the carriage. The village head greets you quickly, settling you down in front of a cup of tea and some snacks, before cutting straight to the details.

“This dragon… I'd be careful. I've heard of you, a genius among geniuses in terms of dragon hunting, but I warn you right now. This dragon is different. Smarter, more powerful than your typical one, I bet. Its fire… even among other dragons, isn't comparable. It can torch the whole village, and it got damn near close to. Cunning bastard as well, it can pinpoint where our sheeps are and it can evade our traps. It disappeared from our village a few decades… we assumed it died naturally, but then it returned again earlier this season.”

“When was the last time it attacked? Do you know what kind of dragon it is?”

“No. We’ve never seen a dragon like it before. I'm not sure if it follows under the kingdom's classifications. It's black and white with three pairs of wings! And its tail… sharp like, like…like a scythe, can slice houses in half! Its claws are just as dangerous too. Can breathe fire, of course.”

Three pairs of wings… that means this dragon is considerably old. Dragons gain pairs of wings after their first set through molting, which only occurs every fifty or sixty months following reaching maturity, meaning this dragon was at least a century old. You grimace. Older dragons are always harder to get rid of. Most of the dragons that you encounter only have one pair, on the rare occasion, two. This is the first time you've been assigned a three-paired dragon.

Its colorings are also strange; you've never heard of a black and white dragon specifically. The tail description, however, isn't very uncommon; it could be a signifier that this is an incredibly rare hybrid among dragon species. If it's as powerful as it's said, and if you consider its age, then perhaps they come from one of the Dynasty species… but a descendent of that species hasn't been seen in many years. If this is true, then of course it wouldn't follow under the kingdom's ordinary classifications of dragons. Still, a hybrid? Mating between different species almost never happens. This really was a special case. And its disappearance? You couldn't even fathom why.

“Do you know at least where it lives?”

The village head turns to his right, pointing in that direction. “If you continue that direction, you'll come across a forest. That's where it goes. We don't know where it lives, we've been too scared to try and find out ourselves.”

You sigh. Well, this wasn't much to work with. “Is there anywhere I can stay?” 

“Yes, yes. There's a room above the bar that's just for you. Free of charge, of course. The food as well. Just please… eradicate this beast.” 

“I'll do my best.” 

—

No matter how many forests you go to, you never become fonder of them. Traversing them was always annoying. Too much greenery to walk through, too many streams and rivers to cross, and just too many damn trees. This terrain is especially difficult to find traces of dragons in. It'd be better to make your own traces then scour through the forest to search for them, hence why you're at a stream, catching as much fish as you can with a net. Fish makes for good dragon bait, though you don't intend to use it to trap the dragon. You doubt any trap you could make in the little time you have could kill or harm the dragon, but it will lure the dragon to you.

You pause to take a break, glancing at the pile of fish you've collected. The smell is starting to assault your nostrils. Ugh. 

You hear a crunch behind you, and you turn. Your eyes widen and you pick up your sword, raising them towards the three dragons that surround you. Adrenaline pumps through you as you stand up, observing the creatures. 

All of them only have one-pair of wings, with similar features and size; they’re as large as bear cubs, if you subtract their tail length, and you realize that they're baby dragons, yet to reach maturity. They have, notably, distinct colorings, but they all share the same black and gray coloring. Perhaps they come from the same hatch? The one to your right has red, almost maroon, splotches over their scales. This one is wide eyed, but its features are relaxed as if playful and curious. The one in the middle seems to be the smallest, fearful as if it’s cowering with its dipped head and the tail wrapping around itself protectively; this one has almost a marigold accent to it. The one to the right is teal, and passive, like it doesn't see you in the slightest. 

Baby dragons are hardly as aggressive or destructive as their adult counterparts, but that doesn't mean they can't pose a danger. Still, you don't want to harm them, not when they haven't done anything that would warrant you to.

The red one approaches, deliberately, sniffing towards your direction. You brace your sword, and it trudges up to you, nostrils grazing against your armor before it nudges against your hand. It then walks past you, its focus deadset on the pile of fish behind you. The two other dragons follow in the red one's lead, and you sigh in relief, placing your sword back in its sheathes.

Baby dragons, three of them especially, are a rare sight, as they're often sheltered in their father's den, and they don't venture out until they've fully matured. This being because they're quite vulnerable despite the threat they hold once they've matured. Eliminating them is a part of your duty, however, you never feel right killing creatures that have just hatched. They couldn't be more than ten years old; they still had a few more decades before they could pose a danger. If they're out like this, it's likely they've been abandoned. Mother dragons often leave their young after childbirth, and the fathers are left to take care of them; it could be that the father died recently. 

Whatever the case, you think that they deserve to live a little longer. Plus, they're kind of cute… 

Although, the more you observe them, the more you feel you should prevent the fish supply you spent all day getting from declining. They seem less cute now. You groan as they eat until there's no more fish, and they turn back to you, croaking as if requesting more. 

What are you, their mother? Your eye twitches in vexation. 

You spend your evening fishing for baby dragons at the river. Un-fucking-believable. Weren't you wonderful at your job? 

You decide to leave the dragons at the river bank as you search for wood to make a campfire. To your slight annoyance and amusement, the young dragons trail behind you. You get random twigs and branches that scatter the forest floor. One of the dragons, the yellow one, picks up a branch in their mouth, before offering it to you. 

Damn it, why did you have to be a dragon hunter? You take the stick in your hand, hesitantly petting the top of its head. This is something you’ve never done before, but you wouldn't mind doing it again. It leans into your hand. You don't deserve this treatment, you hunt their kind. Oh, how you wish you could tell them what you'd have to do once they grow up. Why did you have to be a dragon hunter? You're holding back tears as you continue the petting action. 

Its other siblings, unbeknownst to your existential crisis, follow its behavior, and you've turned the baby dragons into your personal campfire wood carriers. You think dragon trainor fits you better than a dragon hunter at this point, but that profession doesn't grant an affordable life. 

Seating yourself on a tree stump, you build your campfire and light it. You use it to cook a fish over, while you try to fend off said trout from being eaten by the dragons. By the time it's done cooking, the little creatures are exhausated, curling against you as the three fall asleep against your legs and back. You don't want to admit it, but it's a comfortable weight against you. You didn't even know that dragons snore until now.

Peace at last, you think, finally able to eat your fish alone. 

Too soon, too soon. You hear it before you see it, the whipping of winds that you can only associate with the beating of dragon wings as it flies. The sound grows louder, meaning it's heading straight towards you. You stand up, unsheathing your sword and bracing yourself for an assault. Shit, shit, shit, you're not prepared to fight in this territory whatsoever. What was it attracted to? The campfire? The smell of your fish? Or perhaps… you glance at the still sleeping creatures. 

You don't have much time to ponder as the ground shakes when the beast lands in front of you, right on top of the river, its gargantuan form making you tremble. An earth shattering roar escapes its throat, nearly making you tumble back from the sheer force, and your ears ring painfully. 

You've never seen a larger dragon before. You count the pair of wings through squinted eyes. One, two, three. This is the dragon you've been hired to hunt? 

The hand holding your sword doesn't stop shaking, no matter how much you try to control your muscles. The adult dragon nears, and your heart rate pounds louder and louder with each footstep. Black and white colorings? Check. Sharp tail? Check. You know you have to fight it, but how could you possibly? It dwarfs you in every single way possible. 

It swipes its tail at you, and you duck as fast as possible, just barely missing being sliced in half like the trees behind you. Its tail retracts to lunge at you again, and you block the sharp end with your sword, though it just swats you away easily, throwing you across the bank of the river. You land on the gravel with a pained groan, and you scramble to get up, facing the dragon. 

Piercing red-crossed eyes gaze back at you, and you no longer feel like the hunter. Instead, you feel like the prey, and every fiber of your being is telling you to run. You wield your sword again resolutely. If you die, then you die, but you'll die knowing you tried. The dragon tilts its head back, preparing its fiery breath, and you ready your wrist shield. 

Suddenly, a familiar croak comes from behind the adult dragon, and you see the baby dragons rush into the adult dragon, headbutting its feet. The dragon snaps its head back into its normal position, gazing down at the small dragons at its feet. You're afraid that the larger dragon will crush them, but instead it growls. The young ones chirp back, communicating with it. 

You stand there, bewildered, the pieces coming together in your mind quickly. Is the black and white dragon their father? Are they trying to save you? The tension in your shoulders relaxes the slightest bit. The father dragon whips its head back to you, and you freeze, paralyzed under its predatory gaze. Too swiftly does its tail shoot towards you, but instead of impaling you as you prepared, it merely wraps around your midsection, lifting you effortlessly. You drop your sword out of pure shock from being in mid air, and it brings you face to face with the dragon. 

The dragon snarls, baring its teeth, and you think it's the end once you see its pearly whites. Instead, however, it sniffs you, before pausing, observing you more. You're holding your breath, wondering when you will meet your fate. It opens its mouth wide, displaying a row of teeth in its oral cavern. You squeeze your eyes shut but all you feel is something warm, wet, and slimey. A tongue drags across your face, and you cringe, immediately bringing your hands to wipe away the thick saliva. The tail around you loosens, and you fall on your back, grunting from the impact of hitting the floor. 

Okay. Well, you're alive at least, you think, once you get the liquid out of your eyes but it is unfortunately in your hair. If it hasn't killed you yet, then it must mean that it likes you? 

You open your eyes, and see that the dragon lays in front of you, its snout just a feet away from you. Each huff from the dragon blows your hair back with hot air, but you don't mind it. The smaller dragons prance by your side, chirping and croaking with a high-pitched tone. Bemused but just grateful that you've yet met your end, you pet their heads. By the growl from the father, they approve of your action, and your heart melts. You reach out to pet the snout of the larger dragon, and it closes its eyes, further nudging against you before a grumbly purr escapes its throat.

Seems like you've just been forcibly adopted by a family of dragons. You don't think you'll complain that much. 

[kkvqwrites]

A Visitor

Someone from Simon's past comes knocking.

Word count: 1,480

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, fem!reader (no use of y/n)

CW: Mentions of past abuse/DV

A/N: This is technically canon divergent since Simon's dad is presumed dead. Also I could have sworn his name was Lee in the comic but when I went back to check I couldn't find it, so it'll do.

The knock at the door came at perhaps the worst possible time. Simon had dozed off watching rugby with the baby snoozing on his chest, one of his large hands plenty big enough to support her. The man was a notoriously light sleeper, and always vigilant, so it was nice to see him relaxed enough to doze off. 

You hurried to the door, hoping against hope the knock didn’t wake the two sleeping beauties. You hadn’t been expecting company, so your secondary hope was that it wasn’t someone who wanted to linger. Upon opening the door, though, you froze, perplexed. Standing before you was someone you’d never seen before.

The man was old, but how old it was hard to say. His clothes were worse-for-wear and he looked like he hadn’t showered in days. The wrinkles in his face betrayed a permanent smirk. He was rough around the edges, not just in appearance but in the way he carried himself. You had half a mind to ask if he was there asking for charity, but the words stuck in your throat. Something about this man made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

“Can I help you?”

“Dame of the house, I presume?” The words were polite enough on their face, but something about the way he said them grated, as did the way his eyes raked over you as he said them.

“Yes. Can I help you?” you repeated, hoping to speed this interaction along. 

“Name’s Lee Riley, here to see my son.”

The name wasn’t familiar, except for the surname. Dumbly, you blinked at the man for a few seconds before realization struck.

Oh.

Oh no.

Simon had inherited his mother’s warm brown eyes, but looking closely you were able to see traces of him in the man’s stature and bone structure. Standing before you wasn’t just any random person, but a monster you had heard about only in stories. You felt sick looking at that smirking face, knowing it was the same face Simon had to look at as a boy facing relentless abuse and terror. 

Instinctively, you squeezed the door shut just a bit tighter, as if to barricade yourself in the house and keep him out. The two people you loved most in the world were inside, blissfully unaware of the piece of shit on your doorstep, and you intended to keep it that way. 

“Get off my porch and never come back here.” You willed your voice not to betray how uneasy you felt. The man barked a snarling laugh.

“Ha! Mouthy bird my son went and found himself. Just like his old man.”

“He’s nothing like you,” you spat, your voice struggling not to rise alongside your temper. “And there’s nothing for you here, so get -”

A hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. Simon stood behind you, the gurgling baby in his other arm. His eyes were fixed over your shoulder on his father, expression unreadable.

“Take her and go upstairs.” His tone was gentle, not a reproach but a warning to get far away from whatever was about to happen. You hesitated only a moment, silently praying for some way to save Simon from this confrontation. He spent so much of his life fighting against his father, against the beatings and the fear and the expectations that he’d grow up to be just like him. You were desperate, in that moment, to spare him one more fight. But one glance between the two men, at the stare-down they were having, made your shoulders sag in defeat. This was something that had to happen, and you and the baby being in the crossfire would only make it worse. 

You lifted your daughter into your arms and made your way upstairs to the nursery. Once safely inside, surrounded by soft pink toys and blankets and baby books, you wanted to cry. Simon never got the opportunity to be soft, never got the tenderness he showed you and your baby. Getting out some blocks to let the baby play, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on downstairs on the porch. 

What you couldn’t see, what no one could see or hear, was the war that was going on inside Simon’s head as he took in the sight before him. The shriveled old man before him had once loomed so tall it seemed impossible to ever escape him. Now, half-bent and coming up to his son’s collarbone, it was almost laughable. This was the tyrant who robbed him and his brother of their childhoods; this was the coward who had beaten his sweet, joyful mother down into a zombie. He had seen her just now in your defensive posture, and something in him had gone scarily quiet. Ready. Eager, even.

He had done it once; bullied the bully and forcibly removed his father from the home, and he was all too ready to do it again. He was ready, in that moment, to do whatever it took to be the wall between this evil on his doorstep and the family he had built, that which he cherished above all else. The nerve of this piece of shit, the gall to show up out of the blue like this and contaminate the doorstep had Simon’s anger rising in a persistent wave. 

“Why are you here?” His tone didn’t betray the storm of emotions roiling under his skin; he’d had that trained out of him long ago. He didn’t much care what the answer was. What he was really thinking was Say something. Try something. I dare you. I want you to. Let’s finish this.

“Can’t an old, sentimental man visit his son? The manners of your generation!” The man’s taunting expression and jeering tone were almost enough to get his face flattened into the ground. Almost.

“I’m no son of yours - you said that yourself. Now I suggest you take my wife’s advice and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“Wife! Atta boy,” the man cackled, barreling on and completely ignoring him. “And a tyke too. Taking after the old man after all, are we?”

Simon’s knuckles flexed. You were right when you said he was nothing like the man standing before him; he had worked hard to be sure of it. Every therapy session, every time he communicated with you when he was upset, every time he cooled off before arguing, every time he looked at his infant daughter and vowed silently to the universe to only ever show her safety and love, he was making sure of it. Every time he used his strength and brutality - perhaps the only gifts his father ever gave him - for the good and safety of the world and made the decision not to bring it home with him he was making sure of it. Every time he used his pay to pay bills and take care of the house instead of spending it at the pub, he was making sure of it. Every time he nurtured the friendships and brotherhood he had with his teammates, he was making sure of it. Everything he was as a man, as a husband, as a father, was in spite of his upbringing, not because of it. And he would be damned if this man would take credit for any of it.

It was on the tip of his tongue, this acidic rebuttal, when realization struck: he’d won. He’d grown into a man he was proud to be, a man who embodied everything his father had tried to beat out of him. He’d created a home where he and his loved ones felt safe, he’d found a good-hearted woman and built her up rather than draining the life from her, and now she was a great mother to his daughter. His beautiful little daughter who would never know the fear, the hunger, and the confusion that had marked his earliest years. 

The realization was shocking and humbling, and he blinked, taking in the scene before him with seemingly new eyes. The dirty, snarling man before him was nothing. Not a challenge, not a threat, nothing more than a nuisance. Not worth the air it would take to explain why he was wrong, and certainly not worth putting his hands on and causing a scene. 

Simon let out a long breath, and with it, decades’ worth of something to prove. The man before him wouldn’t hear it, and couldn’t understand it, and that was okay. Because Simon understood it, and you understood it, and one day your daughter would understand too. He could see his future stretching out before him, and there simply was no room for the mean little man on his porch. 

“If you ever come back here, you’ll regret it.” He said, finally.

And then he closed the door.

[marvelfanfics1]

Ooooooh, little!reader stressing over finals and daddy!John B. trying to gently coax her into little!space to get her to calm down🥺

I have been stressing so much over my finals and I need this to happen to me🥺

You got this sweetheart!!! But I hope you're okay and don't overdo yourself 🫂🫶🏻

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"This is so stupid!" You groan for what feels like the hundredth time already.

The finals are getting closer, meaning you were spending every possible second learning and re-reading all your notes over and over again. Books and paper sheets scattered around on the living room floor at the Chateau and you are sitting directly in the middle of it all.

John B walks in after just finishing his surf session and sighs, seeing you rub exasperated hands over your face.

"Hey there, champ. How's it going?" He asks, standing beside you and scratching your scalp to soothe you.

"Bad. I just don't understand this!" You whine waving a sheet of paper up in his face.

"What about taking a little break, hm?" He suggests and you shake your head.

"I can't." You say while grabbing one of the books again not seeing John B roll his eyes.

It had been going on like this for days and he understands where you're coming from and really tries to support you but he also noticed that you haven't been little the last days 'to not get distracted' which concerns him because he knows your mood could only get worse the longer you keep pushing the headspace away.

"Have you eaten anything yet? Or drank some water?" He suddenly asks, crouching down beside you. He brushes your hair to the side and the way you shrink back in yourself let's him know anything he needs. "C'mon, just a tiny break."

"Da- JB, please. I'm fine, 'kay?" Your small slip didn't go unnoticed by him.

He smirks, his hand going down to rub your back. He's almost through the barricade that you built up in your head, you just need a little push. "Don't you want to cuddle for a little, bun?"

You pout at him using the nickname he only uses when you're little. It's not fair. It's like a switch being turned off, finally being able to forget about all the stress.

Tears of relief start building up in your eyes and John B coos at you, gently taking the heavy book from your hands and laying it aside before he scoops you up into his arms.

"Thereee we go. No need to cry, I'm here now." He shushes you, carrying you to his bedroom knowing you will feel more comfortable there.

He sits down against the headboard with you curled up on his lap, your head resting against his chest as he starts rocking you. "All that fuss and just needed daddy to come and save you, huh?" He chuckles, reaching over to grab your bunny stuffie, placing it in your arms before wrapping both his arms around you tightly.

You just snuggle more into him, your eyes fluttering shut at the constant rocking. John B looks down and smiles at the sight, he'll just make you something to eat after your much needed nap.

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Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

And All The Fears You Hold So Dear

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language. Angst. Unplanned Pregnancy. Mild violence. Also there's like a smidge of nsfw talk there but thought I'd let you know beforehand just in case.

Word count: 4.3K

A/N: Part Three and Final Installment of something that started as a one-shot and somehow escalated into this¿¿

I just want to thank you for all your very kind comments and let you know that I got a couple requests that I'll be working on, so this might not be the last you see of me. Ily <3

also i cried so much writing this now you have to suffer like i did. xo

Right after the tears finally stopped coming, the emotional exhaustion translated into an intense weariness that made you collapse on the sofa. That hour spent out of consciousness was a blissful interlude in the pain that had your chest hurting and leaving you unable to breathe.  You’d once read somewhere that there was something called “phantom limb syndrome” in which people could feel pain in an amputated hand, arm, or leg. When you woke up, you looked out at the now dark sky and thought of giving Miguel a call to tell him about what an awful day you were having until the memories came back like a harrowing tsunami that had you tearing up when you wondered for how long you’d have to keep reminding yourself that he wasn’t there anymore. This time, however, you became angry. And oddly self-assured.

You didn’t need him. You’d given him a choice, and if a sad, pitiful, lonely life was what he wanted, then good riddance. His loss.

You could do this. Jessica’s pregnancy hadn’t stopped her after all. Sure, it would be challenging but there were mothers out there who took care of one or more children and balanced several jobs didn’t they? So what if you moonlighted as a vigilante whose life was on the line every day? What if you’d have to spend the rest of your life protecting him or her from the bunch of fairly dangerous enemies you’d made in the past months?

Or maybe you didn’t have to.

Your eyes wandered off to your suit which you’d mindlessly thrown on the floor the second you’d arrived home, scrutinizing the details and the care that you’d put into creating it. You wondered what it would look like inside a box, hidden in the back of the closet for years, or until your kid stumbled upon it and asked about mommy’s dutifully hidden past.

An obnoxious beeping sound coming from between the cushions snapped you out of your fantasy as you fished your watch. You hadn’t even realized you’d taken it with you and now it was issuing a warning concerning an anomaly with an amazing timing that had decided to pop into your dimension.

Placing a hand on your stomach, you looked out of the window and doubtfully pressed your lips together.

“Shit. Please, let it be a Vulture that’s literally a vulture, please,” you pleaded with whatever deity chose to listen to you as you picked up your suit and rushed to the bathroom, mindlessly throwing the test into the trash can before pulling the mask over your head.

Unfortunately, you didn’t arrive at the location to find a confused scavenging bird flapping around. You weren’t even sure of what you’d been sent to capture. At the scene, several police cars had formed a barricade outside of an empty warehouse and seemed to be lying in wait, aiming at the door with their guns. Good. That meant you could get in there and set things straight with the unwanted visitor before anybody got hurt.

You stealthily made your way from a nearby ledge to the roof, finding your way in through a broken skylight and landing on top of a pile of metallic crates solid enough to hold your weight but making your entrance noisier than you would’ve liked.

Whatever you were looking for, it was nowhere to be seen. The warehouse was in such darkness that, if it wasn’t for the night-vision lenses Miguel had fitted into your mask, you wouldn’t be able to see further than your own nose. They had come in pretty handy, and you couldn’t believe you’d been so opposed to getting them.

“(Y/N) it’s just one small modification, give me one reason not to.”

“Because you’ve already done too much!”

“Oh come on, it will take me what? Twenty minutes?”

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean you’ve done too much to my suit, Miguel. First, the emergency parachute, next the spine and nape reinforcements, then you literally said ‘You know what? How about we just redo the whole thing with fireproof fabric?’ and now another modification?”

“He added memory foam insoles too, said you wouldn’t notice, I’m with you on this one” Lyla chimed in.

You pressed your lips together to fight back a satisfied smile while Miguel glared daggers at the AI assistant, who refused to back down.

“She still remembers please and thank you, alright?”

“Lyla, will you please go check if there’s a faulty connection or a leaky pipe somewhere? Thank you.”

After throwing a sickly sweet smile his way, she vanished.

“Alright then,” Miguel continued arguing, “I’m sorry for offering to install state-of-the-art, potentially lifesaving enhancements to your suit. What was I thinking, not wanting my girlfriend to die?”

He lifted his hands in defeat and retreated to the other side of the room, minimizing the digital blueprints of the new glasses.

“And for the record,” He continued, “I didn’t do all the work for your new suit, you designed it, remember? I had no idea of what a ‘basque waistline’ was,”

When he finished talking, he was surprised to hear absolutely nothing coming from your side. Furrowing his eyebrows, he turned to see you still leaning against the metallic table on top of which your suit rested. You were staring at him with a surprised expression that only baffled him further when he noticed the bright blush spreading around your cheeks and down to your neck. Then it dawned on him.

“Oh shit, I’ve never called you that before, have I?”

“No, you haven’t,”

Of course, that small window of vulnerability was all he needed.

“Please let me put the lenses on your suit?”

What he didn’t know was that you can see both ways through a window. When he earnestly pleaded with you to let him install the stupid attachment, his true motives were as clear as if you’d heard them straight from his mouth.

Last time I wasn’t careful enough. I didn’t plan ahead. If something happens to you and I have the slightest notion that I didn’t do absolutely everything in my power to keep you safe…please. Do this for me, would you? For my own, selfish peace of mind?

And he’d been right. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw something dart from behind one container to the next one.

“I see you,” You announced, rolling your shoulders as your Spider-Sense began acting up, “Listen, you’re probably feeling confused right now and if you come out we could…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence as something heavy and cold tackled you onto the ground. Instinctively, you rolled over just in time for something sharp the size of a harpoon to stab the ground next to your head strong enough to pierce the concrete. Without wasting one more second, you jumped on top of a container to take a better look at whatever the hell that was just to find that same spot completely empty. Whatever it was, it was fast. Wincing at the sharp pain in your shoulder, you reminded yourself you had to be more careful and avoid taking strong hits like that.

However, you couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. And, as if to affirm that thought as quickly as it came, your sense warned you of something coming at you from behind. Before it could take you by surprise again, you swiftly moved out of the way and shot webs twice to try and pin it down so you could at least take a good look at what you were up against.

“What in the…?” You gasped as you stared at what you’d captured. Before you, a 20-foot-long pale yellow scorpion furiously trashed about as it tried to free itself from your webs. Not even five seconds after you spotted it, the critter broke free of its restraints and disappeared behind another container. Well, reasoning and trying to bring him in peacefully wasn’t going to work with this one. For now, you knew that it was going to try and keep attacking you, so the best you could do for now was to keep an eye on him before he could plunge that hideous stinger through your forehead. Especially since the little shit was remarkably fast. What was that thing Miguel always told you to do?

“No, remember. You’ve got to think further, think two steps ahead,”

“You know, Miguel, repeating that a million times isn’t going to suddenly give me the ability to see ten seconds into the future,” you muttered, taking the hand he reached out to help you get up. With a wince, you placed a hand on your shoulder and rolled it until it popped.

“It’s not about seeing into the future, (Y/N), it’s about finding unprotected spots and patterns,”

“How come outside I’m love, gorgeous or mi chiquita preciosa de ojitos bonitos, but the minute we’re in here I’m back to being (Y/N),”

“First of all, that last one never happened, we agreed on it, I was in…a vulnerable…”

“You were drunk, you can say it, I won’t tell,”

He glared at you in a way you knew meant ‘won’t you?’. Hopefully, he’d never find out you’d told Peter every last detail of his drunken silliness as soon as you had the chance.

“Second of all, here you’re just like anybody else. You mean nothing to me and I mean nothing to you because that’s how the attackers are going to see you, as an obstacle to get out of the way. Now focus. I’m going to attack you again,”

While knowing beforehand he was going to come at you gave you some advantage, you managed to block the blow he launched at your head. Before he could try again, you noticed his next attempt at an attack was leaving his legs completely exposed. Then, you did what Jess had taught you to do whenever you faced somebody taller than you: go for the knees. You crouched and, with a classic foot sweep, managed to make him lose his balance just enough for you to hook your legs on either side of his and take him down.

You were so tired you couldn’t even gloat properly, instead settling for smiling to yourself and releasing a short, triumphant, ‘ha!’ with your last breath before crawling over to him and sitting next to his lying body.

“You know, if I’m supposed to think two movements ahead,” You say, a beckoning look in your eyes, “I think it’s safe to predict you’re going tell me that there’s nothing more you can teach me, and then carry me to your quarters to do absolutely unspeakable things to me,”

Honestly, it had been stupid of you to think he would give up that easily. Not even two seconds later, it was your back that was pressed against the floor as his large frame covered you, and his hand held your wrists on top of your head. Then he leaned in, painfully slowly, until he was close enough for you to feel the heat that radiated from his skin, a low chuckle left his throat.

“Chula, you don’t know half of all the things I can teach you. But this isn’t the place for most of them. Let’s get moving.”

Thankfully, you forced your brain to focus on the matter at hand before it could replay the entire memory.

Two steps ahead (Y/N), come on.

That thing always attacked with the stinger first. Then it would probably try to immobilize you with its pincers. Quickly tracing a plan inside your head, you started to roam the dark warehouse looking for the missing critter, your spider-sense as sharp as ever as you looked behind every crate and container only to find nothing. Maybe it had left the building without you noticing? Outside, the police still remained alert and in wait. There was no way it could have left without being seen.

Fine. If you couldn’t find him, then he could come and find you. Making your way to the center of the empty space, you remained perfectly still and waited for your sense to tell you where the beast was coming from. The wait was short-lived as you felt a sharp wave of shivers running down your right arm, your entire body shifting to face that side just in time to shoot enough web to completely wrap the entire stinger and leave enough web for you to jump and throw over a beam, leaving the scorpion hanging upside down while aggressively pinching the air around him with its pincers. Unwilling to take any risks, you covered them as well. You had to stand there and catch your breath for a few seconds before looking over to your watch to report you’d successfully captured the anomaly. Only then you had the chance to see that you had several missing calls from Peter.

“(Y/N)?” Peter asked when the call went in almost immediately, “Where have you been? I tried calling but you didn’t answer,”

“Yeah, sorry for going AWOL. I’ve been…busy. I caught something back here. I just reported it,” Behind you, you could hear the scorpion still struggling to free itself, “It’s an ugly one, Mayday’s going to love it.”

“(Y/N), listen, I think you should come back here. You and Miguel should try to talk…”

“P.B., I love you but I really don’t want to talk about that right now. Okay? How about you come over here and help me drag this feisty little shit back to the HQ so we can send it home? You won’t believe it; it has to weigh at least…”

When you turned around to proudly stare at your prisoner, you were met with nothing but a lone stinger, eerily dangling from the ceiling. Your proud smile faded as quickly as it had arrived. Before you could open your eyes to say anything else, you found yourself trapped between two cold surfaces that painfully squeezed all the air out of your lungs as you let out a painful yell. You desperately grabbed each side of the pincer, trying to pry them open to release yourself to no avail. With your brain already starting to run low on oxygen, your strength began to fade. You heard Peter questioningly say your name from the device still attached to your wrist, but he sounded as if you’d been submerged underwater. And his voice sounded as if it was further, and further away. You were falling into a deep and dark lake, air deprived and without enough strength to swim to the surface. So you let yourself sink further, close your eyes and let darkness engulf you as you keep going down.

You’d wondered once or twice what would come after life. Since there was no way for you to be certain about anything, you decided to believe what sounded the most comforting. You would wake up in a beautiful place, full of light, that smelled like freshly baked cookies all the time because you would be sitting at a kitchen table with all the people that you lost along the way, and it was time for all of you to have cookies with whatever you wanted to drink, maybe you just hung out in silence, or you would discuss all the wisdom that the act of passing away seemed to come with…the point was that in no scenario did heaven smell like antiseptic.

This discrepancy was what made you start slowly blinking as you furrowed your eyebrows, the intense white light surrounding you making your head spin. Eventually, you were able to discern some shadows that slowly morphed into a familiar face.

“Hey, welcome back,�� Jessica gently greeted you from a chair in the corner of the room. The hospital room. Like they’d done hours before when you woke up from your nap, a new wave of unpleasant memories came crashing down once more as you tried to sit up with a worried expression.

“Is…are we both okay?” It wasn’t until you tried to ask that you noticed a certain reluctance at saying the word.

“Yes, don’t worry,” Jess immediately assured you. Then why did she look so troubled?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked, rolling her chair closer and grabbing your hand gently, “Honey, of all people you know I would’ve understood,”

“Jess, I’m so scared,” Was all you came up with before shutting your eyes and clamping your lips together to keep the sobs inside, tears already beginning to fall from your cheeks, “This wasn’t supposed to happen, I don’t know how I’m going to handle this, how am I supposed to do this if I can’t even take down a lousy scorpion without getting myself killed?”

With a reassuring smile, the woman tried to hug you as much as her pregnancy allowed her, comfortingly running one hand down your hair and rubbing your back with the other.

“See? You’re great at this already and your kid isn’t even here,” You sobbed against her shoulder, too exhausted to return the embrace.

“What makes you think you won’t be?” She asked, pulling away to give you some space and much-needed room to breathe.

And you knew the exact reason. It came to you so fast and with such clarity that it scared you. But maybe she would understand that too. However, right as you opened your mouth to speak, a soft click coming from the door interrupted you right before it opened, leaving you completely exposed to the thorough, scrutinizing look of the man that hours ago you thought you’d never lay eyes on again.

You turned at Jess, hoping she’d create an excuse for him to leave you alone. You weren’t done talking to her. You desperately wanted her to stay. However, she’d already turned to look at him and left her chair.

“I’ll give you a moment,” She said and, after gently caressing your shoulder one last time, left the room.

And then there were two.

For the life of you, you couldn’t think of one single thing to say, much less anticipate what his next move would be. Yet, your eyes never left his. Your jaw hurt from how hard you had to clench it to keep yourself from bursting into tears again. Fuck, could the hormones be acting up already? Right when you were starting to wonder if, should neither of you say something, you would just stay there in this staring contest until the end of time, Miguel spoke.

“How long have you known?”

“A day. Or so.” You blurted out so quickly that he wasn’t done speaking when you replied. It wasn’t until his eyes left yours and wandered down that you realized you’d been clutching your pale blue gown the entire time. As you slowly let go of it, you realized your hands were shaking.

“And you didn’t say anything?” He asked again, his voice turning one octave higher right in the middle of the question.

“Well, I found out not so long ago, and immediately after I was called here to help so I thought we had bigger problems and this could wait. But then you said we had been a mistake all along so I imagined I was on my own for this one. And I think that pretty much covers it.”

Silently, he took a seat on the chair next to the hospital bed.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” He replied, not looking at you but at an empty spot on the wall, “Back there, when I realized you were gone something didn’t make sense. You’ve pushed back much harder for less important things and now you just turned around and left? And with this, it makes even less sense. Even out of spite, you would’ve told me before leaving.”

You hated how well he knew you, and how right he was. And how what he said didn’t make you angry, but instead make you confront the harrowing confession you’d left unfinished before he walked in.

“What if you were right?” You asked taking a deep, shaky breath, “I didn’t intend for this to happen, you know? It just did. What we had was manageable because at least it was just between us, no third parties affected, if anything went wrong with the timeline and such we could call it off and that was that. But now there was something tangible real coming out of this and I panicked because what if it messed everything up? What if we’d made a mistake? But I just didn’t want to think about it until you sort of confirmed it,”

You weren’t going to cry. You refused to cry in front of him while having this conversation. You tried to focus on anything else to cope with his seemingly endless silence, anything but his slouching shape next to you. The soft fabric of your sheets, or the faint whirring of the monitor next to you displaying your vitals. Now you focused on your breaths. Long, deep breaths.

“So,” He finally spoke in a hoarse voice you were sure you’d never heard before, and you were so taken aback by it that you turned to look at him before you could stop yourself to find a strange, oddly endearing sight. He was crying. Well, maybe that was a bit of a stretch but there were definitely tears in his eyes and even if he was better at hiding it, you were sure he was struggling to keep them confined there as much as you were. Suddenly self-aware of the change in his voice, he cleared his throat before continuing.

“So, we’re having a baby?”

He sounded so expectant, and yet so afraid of the answer. He was absolutely terrified. You could see it in his eyes. This man, who faced life-risking challenges every day and had seen enough for several lifetimes, had never seemed so frightened. The thought, for some reason, made you laugh as you shuddered when you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Seems like it,” came the reply in such a croaky voice that it left you no choice but to laugh a little bit more.

This time he laughed too, although you could barely catch a glimpse of his smile before being engulfed in a hug that made you wish you weren’t in such a state so you could pull him as close to you as you really wanted. Instead, you settled for resting your forehead against his shoulder as he pulled away enough to plant several small and warm kisses on your temple.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, “God, I swear I didn’t mean one single word. Whatever happens next, we’ll deal with it as it comes, I don’t care, right now all I know is none of this would’ve been worth it if it hadn’t brought me here to you,”  

“Hey, don’t get sentimental on me, O’Hara,” you jokingly said, pulling away to be able to look into his eyes, “We’re going to be just fine,”

“I won’t if you keep doing stupid shit like this, (Y/N), ¿qué carajos te pasa? ‘we’re going to be just fine’ Claro, si por tu culpa no me da un infarto primero,“ He scolded you, leaving his seat, “You know you’re benched, right? You’re staying right here, where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you stay out of trouble,”

“What about my dimension? There are plenty of non-interdimensional criminals there desperate to be caught,” You complained.

“Well, I’m afraid the NYPD’s going to have to figure it out for themselves for the next few months. Might even teach them to appreciate you a little more.”

“And if there’s another anomaly?”

“Dios mío, mujer,” He impatiently argued back, “I’ll go then. Or we’ll send somebody else. You’re staying here. Period.”

“Fine,” You huffed, not pleased at all with the order despite knowing you’d been very lucky this time, “But just for three months,”

“Six,” He stubbornly insisted.

“Five, but Peter’s going to be the godfather and you have to tell him.”

A disgruntled sigh echoes throughout the room.

“Fine,”

Taglist: @anywherebuthere @khaleesihavilliard @spookyboogyuniverse @sunshiines-stuff @letharue @withbeautyandrage

[finelinevogue]

hiii! not sure if you’re open to requests, but could you do one maybe about y/n being one of the background singers for matilda and she gets really emotional during singing it! (harry wrote it about her)

just a lil blurb for you<3 thank you for the inspo xox

word count: -1k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x backupsinger!eader

“And let’s give it up for our wonderful ladies tonight!” Harry shouts into his microphone, leaving the crowd of Coventry to scream back at him.

“We have, Elin.” Harry announces and Elin waves excitedly.

“As, always and forever, we have Sarah Jones.” The crowd goes crazy for Sarah. “A name so good you have to say both first and last name.”

Harry turns to face the audience and notices a fan trying to get his attention more than the others. He pulls out his ear piece so he can hear better.

“Sorry?” He politely asks her to repeat.

He focuses his attention on the fan at the barricade.

“Oh your name is also two-name worthy. What is it? Annie? No.. Amy? Yes, Amy..? Amy Styles? Ah you’re funny, you.” He smiles as he sees what the fan is trying to do here.

“No it actually is!” The fan shouts back and holds up her driving license for Harry to see.

Harry kneels down and his jacket widens open and fans scream as they see more of his chest, whilst the fans behind get a great view if his bum.

He looks at the driving license before laughing into the microphone. The crowd cheers at the tiny noise.

“Are…” Harry stops to laugh again, “Are you part of my long lost family or summat?” He asks and the fan nods her head desperately. “Wow. Never knew there was more of us out there.”

He hands the driving license back to the fan before standing back up again. It’s clear that Harry is thinking about saying something, because he stares at you, next to him on stage, with wonder.

“She’s got my last name before you do, Y/N.” He says into his microphone and the crowd goes completely wild.

You shake your head at him for being so chaotic onstage. You and Harry like to keep your relationship as private as possible, which is difficult when he’s a global superstar and you’re one of his backup singers.

It’s little things like calling each other by your proper names in public, but behind closed doors you only call pet names to one another. Or, you won’t kiss on stage because that’s too PDA for you both, but behind closed it’s exactly the opposite. Sometimes Harry’s lips will be sore when he sings from how intensely he kisses you.

“Soon though, soon.” He says to you, not into the microphone but close enough so the crowd hears.

You hold up your pinky finger and nod your head in agreement.

“I haven’t introduced her yet, but you all love her so let’s have your cheers for Y/N!” Harry shouts into his microphone and the crowd go the craziest for you.

Harry then introduces that he’s going to sing Matilda and gives reasons why it’s so important to him, before the little guitar riff for the song starts playing from Mitch.

The crowd goes still as they anticipate one of Harry’s slower songs. When the words come in, the crowd start singing in a tone that is just so peaceful and lulling.

A few fans wave to you and you wave back, allowing them to have a little scream at the notion. You laugh and catch Harry smiling at the interaction.

You don’t start singing until the chorus, but when you do the same fans hype you up.

The love from the fans is so overwhelming that you start to form tears in your eyes.

It gets even more overwhelming when a red heart balloon is lifted into the air, from the crowd, during the bridge.

You have to take a step back to clear your throat, before continuing to sing, blinking back the tears in your eyes too.

You don’t expect it, but Harry reaches over and cups his hand with yours, giving you a tight squeeze in the process. You smile as you sing, looking over slightly to catch Harry watching you with awe.

The interaction between you two goes viral and becomes the trending topic for weeks to come.

When the song is over, you immediately pull Harry into you and he hugs you back just as tight. The crowd cheers not only for the beautiful song, but also for the interaction between you and Harry.

“I love you.” You tell Harry.

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“Impossible.”

[daisyblog]

Surrounded By Love

Too Young Masterlist Summary: YN, Arthur and the Tomlinsons at Victorious Festival.

Based on this request.

YN was days away from being 37 weeks pregnant, and she could confidently say she was eager and counting down the days they got to meet their new little bundle.

It had been a busy few weeks for them all, especially with joining Louis on his festival tour. YN was glad to be back in England, now that Louis was playing his first UK festival.

Whilst Louis ran through a few checks backstage and made sure everything was prepared for his performance, YN and Arthur enjoy a little bit of calm time before the show begins.

“Mum…look it’s Auntie Phee and Olive”. Arthur pointed behind her as they sat on a blanket enjoying some sunshine. Phoebe, Jack and Olive were walking towards them. Arthur’s little legs ran over to the three.

“Hello trouble!”. Phoebe opened her arms wide to give her nephew a cuddle. “Where’s your Dad?”.

Arthur gave Jack a fist bump, something they do whenever they see each other. “Uhh…he somewhere backstage…Mum’s over there”.

YN waved from her place on the blanket. They all greeted eachother as Phoebe and Jack joined YN on the grass. “How are you feeling?”.

“I’m hoping I give birth earlier rather than later…I’m so exhausted and uncomfortable”. YN ran her hand over her tummy. “Do you want to meet your new little cousin soon?”. YN tickled Olive who gave her a big grin.

“Oioi!”. Louis voice snapped them out of their conversation as he walked towards them, Lottie, Daisy and Lucky on his heel and Lewis and Ryan chatting behind them. “We can go backstage now!”.

“You’ll have to leave me here…I can’t get up now”. YN held her hands up in surrender as she had found a comfortable spot.

Louis held his hand out for YN to reach. “C’mon love…I’ll get ya a chair if I can find one”. With a little difficulty, YN managed to raise to her feet.

Arthur ran ahead as he chased Lucky. Louis wrapped his arm around YN’s shoulder as they walked behind them all towards the backstage area. “I’m so proud of you”.

“I’m proud of us!”. Louis smiled down at his fiancée. “Couldn’t have done this without you by my side”. He placed a sweet peck to her lips.

The Tomlinsons all mingled waiting for Louis to perform and one of the crew stated that he would be on in five, which meant Arthur and Louis shared the special handshake and a big hug before he grabbed his mic and in ears. “Go smash it Dad!”.

“Good luck babe!”. YN wrapped her arms around his neck. “We love you”.

“I love you all more”. Louis found his lips on YN’s, his sisters teasing them as they broke apart. But making the moment even sweeter, Louis leaned down to her tummy and placed a long peck as he rubbed his hand over the bump.

---

With Lucky and Olive being young, the Tomlinsons decided it would be better for them to watch Louis perform from the side of the stage, behind a barricade.

“Tell you I'm on my way…Nothing can make me late…Said I had a plan for us…Time had came and changed it all…We had to disappear…'Cause nothing gets through here…Through that circle 'round my heart…Where the best of me should start”.

Despite seeing Louis perform regularly, YN still loved seeing Arthur’s face light up as Louis sang. His eyes would be glued to his father as he moved around the stage, doing what he loved.

“Together we're the greatest…We'll never be that cold again…No fallin' all to pieces…We're the greatest…It's you and me until the end…Life for us is never over”.

---

“You're a nightmare on the dance floor…And you hate me, and I want more…You're a total distraction…While I'm waiting for your reaction…Why, ah, ah, ah”.

Arthur sang the lyrics out loud, as he tried to dance with Lucky, who was also enjoying himself as he watched his Uncle on stage.

“You kill my mind…Raise my body back to life…And I don't know what I'd do without you now…You kill my mind…Raise my body back to life…And I don't know what I'd do without you now”.

YN had a little dance herself, well she moved as much as her growing bump would allow her.

---

“When somebody told me I would change…I used to hide behind a smile…When somebody told me I would change…I was afraid, I don't know why…'Cause so does the world outside, I realized”.

YN watched as Louis moved around the stage, singing as he looked out to the sea of fans that were always a big support to him.

“I didn't read the signs…Walking different lines…I know I took a left…Tryna make it right…All of these voices, all of these choices…I don't hear them anymore…Hear them anymore”.

But as she looked at her future husband, he hadn’t really changed at all. He was still that young man she had fallen in love with, the one that caught her eye way before she cared to admit.

“And it's bigger than me…It's bigger than me…I've woken up from my sleep…It's bigger than me…It's bigger than me”.

---

Despite it being almost 10 years since the band went on hiatus, whenever one of the boys sing a song from the albums, it always held a glimmer of hope of a reunion one day. Including for their families.

“I've got fire for a heart…I'm not scared of the dark…You've never seen it look so easy…I got a river for a soul…And baby, you're a boat…Baby, you're my only reason”.

Louis’ family sang along to Drag Me Down, a tad of nostalgia for them as they remember being at the One Direction tour.

“I love this one Mum!”. Arthur jumped up and down as he held onto the barricade in front of them.

“Me too…it’s one of my favourites”. YN spoke as she moved her hips to the beat, her hand rubbing over the moving baby in her tummy.

“All my life, you stood by me…When no one else was ever behind me…All these lights, they can't blind me…With your love, nobody can drag me down…All my life, you stood by me…When no one else was ever behind me…All these lights, they can't blind me…With your love, nobody can drag me down”.

“Nobody nobody” Arthur sang mindlessly, causing the others to laugh at how much he was enjoying himself.

---

“Hey, babe…It's written all over your face, say it…A hurricane behind the door, oh-oh…So I've come ready for a war, oh-oh”.

Without any thought, Arthur turned around to his Mum. “Hey Mum…Dad told me that this song is about you being grumpy”.

The words tumbling out of Arthur mouth, caused Lottie to hold onto her own little baby bump as she laughed hysterically at her nephew.

“Louis’ will be in trouble now”. Daisy joked, as she held Olive in her arms.

“It’s written all over my face”. YN sang as she smiled at the teasing.

“But I hear that thunder in the distance…I know it's getting close…You're giving me the silent treatment…Don't know what it's achieving…When we're finished saying nothing…Can we please get back to loving?…When it's good, it's really something…Can we please get back to us now?”.

---

“I know you say you know me, know me well…But these days I don't even know myself, no…I always thought I'd be with someone else…I thought I would own the way I felt, yeah”.

Arthur had somehow convinced Ryan to let him sit on his shoulders, “So he could have a better view”. YN used this opportunity to have a cuddle with Olive who was the happiest of babies, smiling as she took everything in her stride.

“Whoa, you stress me out, you kill me…You drag me down, you fuck me up…We're on the ground, we're screaming…I don't know how to make it stop…I love it, I hate it, and I can't take it…But I keep on coming back to you”.

From his place on his uncles shoulders, Arthur continued to make everyone laugh. “Mum…Dad said a bad word…he said fu-“. Before YN had chance to shush her son due to Lucky’s young ears listening, Lewis reached over to place his hand gently over Arthur’s mouth to stop the word spilling out.

---

This One Direction song always reminded YN of Harry, and as much as they spoke everyday she still missed him.

“Counted all my mistakes and there’s only one…Standing out from the list of the things I’ve done…All the rest of my crimes don’t come close…To the look on your face when I let you go”.

YN had felt their little baby move since Louis began to sing, but the little peanut had started doing somersaults now. She couldn’t help but think that maybe she was carrying a baby directioner.

“Now I’m searching every lonely place…Every corner calling out your name…Tryna find ya but I just don’t know…Where do broken hearts go…Where do broken hearts go”.

---

“Gettin' high on the amber wave…Going deep for the ones who do the same…Air Max's and silver tongues…Settle in for another heavy one…You said love was a pretty lie…And I choked when your smoke got in my eye…Bad logic and empty cans”.

Silver Tongues always will hold a special place in YN’s heart. It held small moments that only she and Louis knew about. Memories that seem like a distant past now but luckily will live on thanks to this song.

“You said grass was a dirty drug…You like to preach with a vodka in your mug…I love all the things you know…But I'm king on a fifty-metre road…We stand up tall and beat our chests…We shout some things that we'll regret…Sit down with a master plan”.

YN smiles to herself as she hears the words preach with a vodka in your mug, the memory of her and Louis standing in her uni kitchen and him teasing her about her drinking the alcohol out of a mug rather than a glass.

“You and me until the end…Wakin' up to start again…You and me until the end…Wakin' up to start again…There's nowhere else that I would rather be”.

Louis turned to the side of the stage as he sang the verse, pointing towards YN as she sang back to him. Both mirroring each others bright smiles as they enjoyed the moment before they were about to become a family of four. He was right, there is nowhere else he would rather be than surrounded by his family, and that meant surrounded by love.

Taglist :@jillsvalentinex @itsmytimetoodream @peterholland04 @youcan-nolonger-run @chronicallybubbly @macy-tpwk @wh0s-nadii @lillisummers

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Fake summary please for this made up title:

Flip me off and I’ll flip you over

🎸 Flip Me Off and I’ll Flip You Over

It had been an honest mistake, hand to God.

Louis had seen him last night, two rows away from the front, eyes closed and mouthing along perfectly to All This Time, his sweaty tendrils framing his forehead and the sleeves of his Faith in the Future tee artfully cut off.

They had made flirty - some would even say, obscenely heated - eye contact under the bright lights.

That’s how Louis knew about the dimples; that’s why Louis ran to the barricade three songs too early and a little too far to the left. He didn’t actually see if one of the hands that had so desperately clutched at him belonged to Dimples, but he’d thought it safe to think so. (No one stood that close to the stage, totally dolled up in their little outfit just to make eyes at the artist all night and not try to touch him. Please.)

But the thing was, Louis was also just a wee bit hungover this morning; cranky, headache-y, and severely under-caffeinated after a late night at the club and an inhumane five a.m. radio interview call time. Not to mention being unceremoniously manhandled into the car by Joni after some fans got a tad too excitable at the entrance.

So when he saw Dimples for the second concert in a row, now strategically stationed outside his dressing room wearing leather trousers in 36 degree weather, smiling at Louis like that…

Well, he’d just kind of… assumed.

“Bit too early to be this thirsty for a back room shag, darling, innit?” Louis snarked over the pounding in his head. Though he squeezed his eyes shut behind his dark sunglasses, he didn’t miss the startled look on Dimples’ face.

“W-wh—” he stammered, seemingly bewildered. “I—I beg your pardon?”

Louis would roll his eyes at the impeccable feigned innocence if he wasn’t so dizzy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he peeked one eye open at the same time he lifted his coffee up to his mouth. Caffeine would save him.

He smirked a little at the deep blush on Dimples’ cheeks; at how caught out he clearly was. The movement only made Louis’ head hurt more.

“Posh little thing, aren’t ya?” He observed off-handedly, wincing at the reverberating sounds inside his head over the brim of his cup. Out of the corner of his eye, he clocked the pen in Dimples’ hand and he tipped his head as far as he could without giving himself vertigo to point at it. “Want me to sign your chest or something? Will that get you to leave me alone?”

Dimples narrowed his eyes at Louis in what seemed like the perfect cross between confusion and annoyance. “Ex-cuse me—”

“Come on then,” Louis interrupted impatiently. With a heavy sigh, he gestured with his palm to hand over the pen. “Just lift up your shirt and let’s get this over with—”

“Oh good, you’ve met!” Oli’s voice was so loud it made Louis flinch. Well, it was either his volume or the two forceful slaps he clapped on Louis’ back as he beamed as Dimples. “Louis Tomlinson,” he said, with a dramatic drumroll-type tone to his voice, “meet the legendary Harry Styles, youngest senior concert critic in Rolling Stone magazine history!”

To say those were the absolute worst words Louis could have possibly heard at that moment would have been incorrect. Mostly because the absolute worst words Louis could have possibly heard at that moment were the next six: “He’s here to review your tour!”

Louis lifted his horrified gaze to Harry’s face slowly. Their eyes locked, anger flashing across Harry’s features as he crossed his arms over his chest. Ironically, the lanyard of his press pass was now painfully obvious where it hung around his neck.

“Charmed,” he deadpanned.

Whoops.

— or, Louis Tomlinson’s World Tour was off to a great start until he royally fucked up by mistaking a world famous concert critic for a groupie. Then again, it’s not like anyone said Harry Styles couldn’t be both.

[lunarwritesthings]

☆– Anything For You –☆

Paring: Noah Sebastian x Gn!Reader

Fandom: Bad Omens

Request: Yes

Prompt: #11, “Who did this to you?”

Summary: You come backstage after Bad Omens finished their sets. Noah sees bruises on you and it ready to burn the world and the dumbass that hurt you.

A/N: I apologize for how long this took. Life has been rough recently and I also apologize for the writing in this. I tried to write this with writer's block.

It started like any other show of the tour. I was standing in the pit, something Noah was not a fan of. He was aware how crazy some fans could get during concerts, however he allowed it as long as I was at the barricade and right in the middle so that he could always see me.

Everything was going perfect, until the boy got on stage. A few fans around me started pushing, shoving, and elbowing me in an attempt to get closer to the band and the barricade. I tried to keep a hold on the barricade and keep my attention on Noah, however I could see the concern in his eyes.

I gave him an reassuring smile letting him know I was okay and to focus on the show. It seemed to be enough for Noah because he relax and continue with the show. However little did either of us know it was about to get worse.

The fans around me were staring to get rougher with their actions. I could feel area around my chest and ribs that were hurting quite a lot. There was one final, hard elbow to my ribs that knocked all the air out of me.

I quickly waved a security guard over so I get backstage quicker. Once I got backstage, I knew Noah immediately saw the bruises that were forming. "You look beaten to hell and back," Noah mutters, taking in the bruising with his sharp eyes. His eyes burning with anger.

I could tell by his body language he was detailed to find dumbass that hurt me. Noah holds me close, protectively. "What did they do to you? Who did this to you?" Noah exclaimed, grabbing my arm tightly. I winced, remembering how I had been shoved and elbowed during the set.

The level of Noah's voice grabbed the attention of the other who were prepared to hold Noah back if necessary. I briefly explained what happened not wanting Noah to get angrier. "There was a group of fans that were around me that got excited when you guys got on stage."

The mere thought of anyone hurting me sends Noah into a rage, his fists clenching and his knuckles turning white. My safety is one of the most important things to him, and he's not going to stand for anyone messing with me.

I watched quietly as Jolly and the Nicks got closer to Noah. His body language was a dead give away he was bound to rush outside of find the fans. Yet when Noah realized what was happening, he took a few deep breaths and calmed down.

Noah turned his attention to my bruises and cuts. "Let's go get you cleaned up." Before I could respond Noah gently grabbed my hands and pulled me towards the tour bus. Unknowingly Jolly and the Nicks stood back and watch me and Noah walk away with smirks on their faces.

Sometime all you need is a best friend that with make sure you're alright.

[bambi-kinos]

Why do you think Paul keeps saying to this day that John was really sweet. He really wasn't. He treated everyone like shit including Paul. Because he feel he has to? Because he was killed and people made him into something he wasn't? I don't blame John for this ). Or but because he was in love with him and that's what he remembers. John doesn"t deserve it. He's even overrated. Both P and G was/is better. I just don't get how someone like Paul who's a better man, artist and person keeps giving J so much credit. I'm not a new fan of the Beatles or Paul. I really can only see it that he was in love with him.

What else is Paul supposed to do?

Idk man I think Paul is just doing his best with what he has. He's never going to get closure on their relationship. He's never going to get an explanation that satisfies him. So he has to work with what he's got.

You have the wrong end of the stick on this, Paul isn't trying to give John credit that he hasn't earned. Paul is trying to move on from what John did to him by focusing on the good moments and remembering who John was before he was brain damaged by heroin and LSD. If your boyfriend has a TBI that changes his entire personality, is that really your boyfriend anymore? Is he really still himself? These are the questions Paul has wrestled with and it looks like he's realized he's never going to get an answer.

So he's focusing on what he does know which is that the John he knew and fell in love with was a sweet kid who sometimes let his insecurities rule him. But he was still a loving person who cared about Paul and was his closest friend for years.

Furthermore: if John was actually the raging dickhead that the internet thinks he is then he would not have had any friends to begin with. People with truly no redeeming characteristics who are assholes all the time don't get friends who defend them even after they die. The truth is that John was not actually a prick all of the time. Otherwise no one could have stood being around him. Paul calls John sweet because he knew the John that was a sweet guy, the guy that Paul loved.

You're also falling for John's own propaganda a bit. John never stopped projecting the image of being a cynical hard bitten street tough that intimidated everyone into submission with his temper. John occasionally admitted that all of this was an act (see his comments at playacting the Teddy Boy image while not actually being a gang member and why he felt he had to do it.)

But the truth is he never stopped projecting the "I'm an asshole you better not fuck with me" thing. All of this "I'm an irredeemable asshole I hate George and Paul!!!" is pure fakery. The very qualities you don't like were fabricated in large part by Yoko as part of a propaganda campaign, and from what I've read in the Dakota Years memoirs, this propaganda was out of John's control from the moment he started the Lennon Remembers interviews. John is just as much a victim of information warfare as Paul is, he just reacted to it differently and used it to barricade himself away from Paul.

That doesn't mean you have to like John or feel sorry for him or agree with Paul's decisions to try and leave the damage behind. You are reacting to the fact that Paul is visibly in pain when he talks about this stuff. He's bleeding in public and there's nothing no one can do to help him. The wounds are permanent. It is, in fact, rage inducing. John isn't here to speak for himself and try to explain. What else can we do as observers except be angry.

But Paul McCartney is 82 years old.

He's close to the end.

He doesn't want to do that, doesn't have time for it, doesn't want to spend his last years rehashing this shit.

Is there an alternative for him? All he can do now is try to make peace with it while he's alive and then he can finally get closure with John when he moves on to the next stop.

Paul doesn't call John 'sweet' for the sake of John's image. He does it to remind himself of the boy he fell in love with in 1957. Because he doesn't have a lot of time left and he wants to spend it being in love with John, not being angry at him. Paul is doing this for Paul. Simple as.

[princncess]

The Problem With Fucking Ex-Cader Units

Don’t try to fuck an ex-cader unless you’re a real specific type of person. That’s my advice. Lemme explain this from start to finish. First of all, I’ve got to explain to you what a cader actually is. 

See, since the 30’s, where pilots were really wearing glorified suits, to the 40s, when mechs took on a size and shape more reflective of early cultural depictions about what they would be, to the more hulking things they are now, mechs have been steadily increasing in size. Around ‘53, the protection game changed. At that point, the penetration really wasn’t as much of an issue as the impact of a weapon, and no matter how much armor you caked on, nothing would stop a .24 c-cal¹ round from just jolting you so hard your internals got fucked up anyway, even if it stopped way short, nestled comfortably in the dozens of feet of whatever exotic metal they decided to layer on top of you.

So they ditched the whole heavy armor thing, which increased combat capabilities a ton, cause, y’know, extreme weight decrease. I shouldn’t need to tell you that that left a huge vulnerability. To fill that gap, they came up with a new class: Barricader units, or caders for short. Rumor has it a higher-up spelled “cadet” or “cadre” wrong and everyone just ran with it, too scared to correct the guy, but who knows. Caders are a single purpose unit. All the armor stripped off the glorious fighters who get all the medals, put onto caders, and their job was to take damage. No weapons, save for the ability to give someone a mean slam with your armor. High propulsion to get in the way of stuff quick and then back out so your team could return fire. Mechs physically built and pilots mentally trained to drag themselves by the last functioning finger to the next source of pain. Can you tell yet why they’re not a fuck for the faint of heart?

So no surprise that when these pilots are out-of-mech, they’re more than a little weird. I know you’ve seen all the posts about how ex-pilots are always breaking things, twitching like they’re scanning for targets, unusually sadistic, what have you. You’ll usually find an ex-cader cutting the shit out of itself and the like- some people think they’re depressed or PTSD or something, but really they’re just trying to get high again. They actually did a study on ex-caders, turns out they’re actually going through something chemically analogous to drug withdrawal, but for pain. If they’re not getting hurt, they feel like they aren’t serving their purpose, they get anxious, start freaking out until they can get their next fix of pain. They’re the ones reading “abuser blocklists” like a fucking menu, pissed that no one on there is an actual abuser. It’s not even “wires crossed” at that point, the wires are all fucking melted together.

I run a place where off-duty and discharged military come to relax, satisfy bodily urges- I don’t need to spell it out for you. Some of them actually end up working here instead of being customers. Anyway, any time we get an ex-cader in here, they’ve just got needs beyond the pay-grade of anyone who works here. It’s not like they try to force anything- well, some try this sorta… manipulation game, but the only satisfaction they’ll get if they do is getting kicked out by me- but even the behaved ones clearly leave disappointed. It’s nice for us that all the shit laws against sex work faded out, but the things these ex-caders ask for are still far into illegal territory, not to mention far past what my toughest employees can stomach.

Now, I’ve got one employee, Lucy, who’s also an ex-pilot- not a cader, an assault pilot. Doesn’t get very good reviews, bless her, she goes way too hard, can’t meter her force. People tap out. We had to give her a special whip that didn’t hurt very much, and only give her the serious masochist clients because damn could she swing. It was only a matter of time before an ex-cader arrived, heard about her, and decided “I gotta try it.” Can’t lie, I was interested in what would happen too. I had no idea the chemical fucking reaction that was about to take place.

A funny thing happens when you add “someone who wants to take more than anyone can give” and “someone who wants to give more than anyone can take.” It was unstoppable force meets immovable object. Someone created to be hurt, versus someone created to hurt. The answer is, they fuck like they’re both trying to kill the cader.

As is protocol, we left them alone in a room to do their business. Business outside that room, however, ceased. You could hear the sound through the entire building, both of them making the same noise- like a scream and a laugh combined, what I can only describe as the sound of Purpose, capital P, being fulfilled in the most violent way. Not to mention the impacts and claps, cracks of what I thought at the time were furniture. We kinda wanted to go in and check on them, make sure they were safe, but that’s against our rules, so we let them continue. We actually had a bit of a crowd forming near the wall, can’t blame the people for being concerned or interested. But after a little while, about halfway through their time slot, we could only hear one person scream-laughing. No club safe-word from anyone yet. I again considered checking on them, but figured I’d give it some time. Ten minutes later, the sounds were all calming down, still only one person could be heard. I knocked a few times. No response each time. The concerns were mounting among me and everyone else there. I cleared the crowd for privacy reasons, then got ready to enter.

That wasn’t a metaphor I used earlier. I saw Lucy on a chair, waiting, and the cader on its stomach on the floor. It- well, she, but this thing was no longer recognizable as anything but an it- looked like it had five elbows, the way its arm was broken up in a few places. The attached hand was scratching at the ground pulling the rest of the body what must have been micrometers closer to Lucy while she giggled and looked down at it. She looked up at me with a more intense joy in her eyes than I’ve seen in anyone- and waved to me, giddy, with a “Hiiiii!!!!”

In the low light, the only thing I could see wrong was the silhouette of the fucked up arm, I didn’t know how bad the situation was. I turned on the light and the first thing I saw was the various places blood had splattered. I screamed, Lucy laughed again, and someone peeked in who I had to shoo back out. I closed the door out of respect for the two pilots, but didn’t feel good about being alone with Lucy. I walked toward the cader, around its body to the other side- I saw legs broken entirely out of commission, the other arm hanging on by sinew, broken-off wood from the furniture jabbed into its abdomen. That special whip I got for Lucy tied around its neck. Then there was what was left of its face. It was like a crater, I was stunned the pilot was even still alive. Somehow I could tell it was smiling, despite the fact that I could see nothing but pulp. It almost sounded like the thing was purring, the way it was gargling blood somewhere deep in its throat. I looked around the room. It looked like just about everything in there had come into play at some point during their session, everything scattered. Broken glass. Some fingers. Turns out I had misconceptions about what vocal cords looked like. I saw Lucy’s wrist had also broken somewhere along the way, and the rest of her was as bloody as anything else in the room. She was staring back, but it didn’t seem like she was upset at me, or registered me as a potential target. When I regained the power of speech, I sat down in a patch of ground without much blood and called an ambulance I knew wouldn’t be enough. I tried to talk to Lucy a little bit, but she seemed too starstruck by her experience to offer much beyond “Look how cute!”

Well, I guess whoever peeked in called the cops, because they came along with the ambulance. Lucy was too out of it- and proud of her work- to do anything but admit to everything. While they took her away, I wondered what was going on in her head. Did she understand she did something wrong, or was the euphoria of that whole thing just too much?

Scratch that. I have no idea if she did something wrong.

¹ Centcal, abbreviated c-cal. 100 times a caliber. .24 c-cal is the same as 24 cal, or a 2-foot-wide bullet.