#and putting all this pressure on it is getting in the way of me

[nerdlvr]

✩ mama

(MDNI)

smut , husband jeno x reader , hey mamas in a sexy way , impreg/breeding kink , just a quick lil thought blurb , big humongous ginormous jeno dick (canon) , smaller reader , no condom ofc thats the point y'all , rough dirty raw sex , doggy style ruff ruff , creampie , degradation kink , overstimulation , dacryphilia , daddy kink yikes! , pet names , requested here !

message to past self : do not ask your feral husband to give you a baby.

now you're 3 hours in, 5 orgasms later , and 8 inches deep, and your husband won't stop until he thinks you've had enough.

.

you slapped at his thigh, a helpless attempt to release the pressure he was putting on your womb.

"jen- jeno, please, s' full, i can't anymore." your choked sobs were like music to his ears, a low chuckle leaving his throat, "yeah you can mama, look at you-" he reached down to wipe your tears, his smirk growing wider.

his cock pulsed inside of you, releasing another spurt of cum into your leaking hole.

"hurts baby, hurts so good." he laughed at your words, proud of you for lasting this long, "so strong for me baby, love it when you milk my cock-" he pressed deeper into your cunt, your stomach clenching at the feeling of more cum seeping into you.

"take it, gonna look so good when that tummy starts to grow, hm? gonna want me to fuck you when your breasts are all swollen and you can barely walk?"

you nodded into the sheets, his large hand gripping the back of your neck as he pressed you deeper into the bed.

"yes jen- fuck, always want you to fuck me- need you to."

he finally released the pressure he had on you, cock slowly sliding out of your swollen cunt, your breath shaky as your body began to twitch.

"desperate little pussy- look at you, not even a drop going to waste."

you shivered as he ran a finger along your fold, chuckling as his cum remained soaked into your cunt, fingers only wet with your arousal.

he lined his length back up to your core, sinking in slowly, only a couple inches at a time. you sobbed into the sheets, the walls of your cunt burning as he teased you, "jeno please-"

he pressed in deep, hips flush against your ass as he wrapped his arms around your waist, "please what mama? don't tell me to stop- you know i can't."

he drove back into you, hand grabbing onto your hair to pull you up towards him, "say my name baby, who's the only one that can fill you up like this hm?"

you choked on your cries, voice weak as you spoke, "you, daddy only you, please please please."

he dropped you back onto the bed, hands moving to grip your ass, spreading you so he could get a clear view of you sucking in his cock.

"only me- only daddy can feed this hungry pussy, fuck you're perfect baby, made for me."

.

if you thought this was the end you were very much wrong. jeno only had one thing in mind, and he was going to get it done.

[rhythm-catsandwine]

Then to add to "your body your choice your life"

This includes what people eat, don't eat or how they eat it.

Unfortunately again sometimes it comes from "being caring".

Again it's the religious people who come in two types.

The " your body is a temple" as a excuse to be diety or try to force "diet culture" into their and others lives. ...Just ask anyone that came from a high control religion. There is a pressure to be thin and put together all the time with no exceptions.

Then there are the idk what to call them .... "bread people" . These are the ones I grew up with. They have zero understanding of food and nutrition. They try and control what people eat especially if they eat healthy. They don't understand food alergies and think god or prayers can fix them. Everyone must eat almost nothing but starches and sugar with a bit of protein. They also police how much people eat.

I've had people gage at the vegetables or plain food I have in my cart when checking out. Or they would ask where my bread is or why I didn't get enough bread or food. (They don't think of vegetables as food in a way).

I've had people run up and put bread or "little Debbie's" in my cart because I "must eat them for god commands it"

And people would put food on my plate for no reason other then they want me to eat it. They don't ask they just do. .... This was mostly common at church dinners. But it happened at party's.

Everything revolved around food and not in a good way. It was all about "sharing food" (but they would harass you into eating their food) what others ate and NOT about sharing food for the sake of community.

Some things come from pure ignorance. I've had people freak out at me eating bell peppers. They think they are hot and thus should not be eaten. Or I would have a low social battery from explaining what the vegetables on my plate were and why I ate them.

You also "couldn't" work out. People were freaked out when I'd go for runs or walks. ....I was made into a local spectacle. I was the "Girl who runs and never gets tired! It's amazing because only God allows her to do it. God is amazing!"

you fucking suck if you make other people feel badly about their bodies

[troyo-boyo]

Grounded in Chaos (Paige Bueckers x Reader)

Summary:When Paige and her friend KK turn a quiet evening into chaos, you end up grounding Paige to get some peace for studying. But Paige's playful attempts at "responsibility" and her quirky distractions make for a funny and frustrating night, reminding you that even a grounding can't tame her energy.

Wordcount:2.9k

The sun had barely begun to set, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the sky, but inside your shared apartment, chaos reigned supreme. It was supposed to be a quiet evening, a time for you to focus on studying for your upcoming finals. Books, highlighters, and scattered notes covered every inch of the dining table, a testament to the academic war you were waging.

But peace and focus? Those had left the building the moment Paige Bueckers, your girlfriend, and KK Arnold, her partner in crime, decided to turn the living room into their personal playground. The sound of laughter, basketballs bouncing, and sneakers squeaking on hardwood echoed through the apartment, threatening to shred your last nerve.

You had tried to get used to this, tried to embrace it, even. Paige and KK had a dynamic that was infectious, their energy contagious in the worst and best ways. They'd been best friends for years, so their connection was like a magnetic force that never seemed to let up. Paige, with her easy confidence and her larger-than-life persona, was a force of nature in herself. KK, on the other hand, with her quick wit and an attitude that could melt anyone, made it impossible not to get swept up in whatever wild thing she decided to do next. It wasn't always easy to keep up with them, but you loved them—crazy as they were.

Still, tonight, you needed peace. You had an exam the next day and couldn't afford another round of procrastination. The hours you'd already put in should have been enough to make you feel confident, but the pressure to excel in every aspect of your life weighed heavily. That pressure was only made worse by the constant interruptions from the duo in the next room.

"Okay, okay, watch this," KK's voice rang out, filled with excitement.

You glanced up from your notes just in time to see KK toss a basketball in Paige's direction. Paige caught it effortlessly, grinning like the confident star she was, and immediately attempted a trick shot aimed at the laundry basket across the room.

The ball ricocheted off the rim of the basket, bounced off the wall, and narrowly missed your stack of notes. You froze, your pen hovering mid-air, as the ball rolled under the table.

"Oops," Paige said, biting her lip to stifle a laugh.

"Oops?" you repeated, your voice dripping with disbelief. "Paige, KK, I'm trying to study here!"

"Babe, you've been at it all day," Paige said, grabbing the ball and tossing it back to KK. "You need a break."

"Yeah," KK chimed in, dribbling the ball. "Come on, live a little! Finals will still be there tomorrow."

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your cool. "If I fail because I didn't study, finals won't be the only thing I'm dealing with tomorrow. So please, can you two just... not?"

For a moment, they seemed to take your words seriously. Paige nodded solemnly, and KK mimicked the gesture, both of them wearing exaggerated expressions of mock remorse. You sighed, relieved that they were finally going to leave you in peace.

But, of course, it didn't last.

"Bet you can't bank it off the fridge," KK challenged Paige, holding up the basketball like a trophy.

"Oh, you're on," Paige shot back, her competitive spirit ignited.

"You have got to be kidding me," you muttered, dropping your pen and burying your face in your hands. The sound of the ball bouncing against the fridge and then the floor was the final straw.

"That's it!" you exclaimed, pushing back your chair and standing up. Both Paige and KK froze mid-laugh, the basketball caught awkwardly between them. You rarely got angry, but when you did, the temperature in the room seemed to drop, and both of them instinctively knew they had crossed the line.

"Uh-oh," KK whispered dramatically, her usual bravado noticeably shaken.

"Paige Madison Bueckers," you began, your tone firm and low, a sure sign you meant business. KK and Paige exchanged wide-eyed glances, their expressions a mix of fear and regret.

"I'm grounding you. You're grounded."

Paige blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"

"You heard me. You're grounded," you repeated, crossing your arms.

"Wait, can you even ground me?" Paige asked, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a grin.

"I can, and I just did," you shot back. Your tone left no room for argument, and Paige's grin faltered slightly as she realized you were not messing around.

"What about basketball?" Paige asked, her tone suddenly serious.

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Fine. Other than basketball, you're grounded."

Paige exchanged a glance with KK, who looked like she was enjoying every second of this despite the palpable tension.

"Okay, so no TV," you continued.

Paige raised an eyebrow. "The TV's already broken."

You frowned. "Then no computer."

"I need the computer for school," Paige pointed out, her tone oh-so-reasonable.

You glared at her, searching for something—anything—to ban. "Then no, uh... no KK."

KK's eyes widened in mock horror. "What? No KK?"

"NO KK!" you repeated, pointing a finger at her for emphasis.

The room fell silent for a beat before Paige burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching her sides. KK looked between the two of you, her expression a mix of indignation and amusement, but she clearly understood you weren't in the mood for further antics.

"You can't just ban me," KK protested, albeit more cautiously than usual.

"I just did," you replied, your voice steady despite the ridiculousness of the situation. "No KK until I've finished studying."

Paige wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing, but her laughter was tinged with a nervous edge. "Oh my god, babe, you're the best."

"I'm serious," you said, glaring at both of them.

"Alright, alright," Paige said, holding up her hands in surrender. "We'll leave you alone. No more basketball, no more chaos. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you muttered, sitting back down and picking up your pen.

For the next few minutes, the apartment was blessedly quiet. You managed to get through an entire page of notes without interruption, a feat that felt like a minor miracle. But just as you started to feel hopeful, you heard a faint whisper.

"Psst, KK," Paige whispered loudly.

"What?" KK whispered back, equally loud.

You looked up, narrowing your eyes. "What are you two doing?"

"Nothing!" they chorused, their faces the picture of innocence.

Moments later, a small paper airplane landed on your notes. You unfolded it to find a crude drawing of yourself, complete with steam coming out of your ears. Beneath it, Paige had written, We're sorry... kind of.

You couldn't help it—you laughed. "You two are impossible," you said, shaking your head.

"But you love us," Paige said, her grin wide and unrepentant.

"Unfortunately," you teased, rolling your eyes.

Despite the chaos, you couldn't deny that life with Paige and KK was never boring. Frustrating? Sure. Exhausting? Absolutely. But in the end, their laughter and love made every moment worthwhile even if it meant grounding your girlfriend and her partner in crime from time to time.

Just as you settled back into your study groove, the sound of KK whispering something mischievous to Paige snapped your concentration yet again. You slammed your notebook shut and stood up, your patience officially at zero.

"That's it. KK, out. Now," you declared, pointing toward the door.

"What? Me?" KK said, her voice a mix of shock and amusement. But there was a hint of hesitation, a flicker of genuine concern that showed she wasn't keen on pushing you any further.

"Yes, you," you said firmly. "You're officially evicted for the night. Go home. Do whatever you do when you're not here. Just let me study in peace!"

Paige burst out laughing again, but KK put on her best pout. "This is unfair. I thought we were friends."

"We are. And as your friend, I need you to leave before I lose my mind," you said, walking over to grab her jacket from the hook by the door.

KK reluctantly stood, taking her jacket with exaggerated slowness. "Fine, but just so you know, this is a betrayal I'll never forget."

"Oh, I'll sleep just fine," you said dryly, opening the door.

KK walked out, but not before turning back dramatically. "Paige, remember me. Tell my story."

"Get out!" you said, laughing despite yourself as you shut the door behind her.

The apartment fell into blissful silence. Paige leaned against the couch, still chuckling. "You're kind of scary when you're mad, you know that?"

"You should keep that in mind the next time you decide to turn the apartment into a gym," you replied, sitting back down. "Now, are you going to behave, or should I ground you again?"

Paige held up her hands. "I swear, I'll be good."

"Good," you said, picking up your pen again. "Because if I have to get up one more time, I'm grounding everyone in this building."

Paige laughed, but this time, she kept her promise, letting you study in peace at last.

Minutes later, the sound of soft footsteps caught your attention. You glanced up to see Paige slipping toward the door, clearly attempting to follow after KK.

"Don't even think about it," you warned.

Paige froze, her hand inches from the doorknob. "What? I was just—"

"If you leave out that door," you said, your voice dropping to an ominous calm, "I'll be talking to Coach about giving you extra suicides."

Paige's eyes widened, and she stepped back from the door immediately. "Okay, okay. Point taken. I'm staying."

"Good choice," you replied, turning back to your notes.

Paige flopped onto the couch, letting out a dramatic sigh. "You're terrifying sometimes, you know that?"

"And you're exhausting," you retorted, smirking. "Now sit down, be quiet, and let me study."

"Yes, ma'am," Paige muttered, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. For the first time all evening, silence finally reigned in the apartment.

A few moments passed before Paige broke the silence, her voice soft but filled with mischief. "Hey, babe..."

"Don't," you warned, but your smile betrayed your attempt at sternness. "Don't even think about it."

Paige laughed quietly, but complied, sinking deeper into the couch as she finally let you study in peace.

As you bent over your notes, the silence in the apartment stretched out longer than it ever had before. For a few minutes, you were able to concentrate, the weight of your looming finals feeling just a bit lighter. But then you felt it—the weight of Paige's gaze, pressing on you from across the room.

You glanced up from your textbook and found Paige sitting on the couch, her chin resting on her hand. Her eyes were wide and focused on you, but there was a distinct lack of interest. She was watching you study, not in an admiring way, but more in the way someone might stare at a TV show they don't really like but can't look away from.

"Are you... seriously just watching me study?" you asked, your voice laced with amusement.

Paige didn't respond immediately. Instead, she let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically falling back onto the couch with her arms spread wide. "I don't know how you do it, babe. How can you just sit there for hours reading and writing and... whatever it is you do? It's like torture."

You couldn't help but laugh at her exaggeration. "I don't have a choice. Finals wait for no one."

"Yeah, I get that," Paige said with a half-hearted wave, "but this is boring. It's just... you're just sitting there, doing the same thing over and over. And I can't even bother you! You said I was grounded!"

You turned your attention back to your notes, fighting the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Exactly. You're grounded. You need to learn some discipline."

Paige groaned dramatically and rolled onto her side, her face buried in the couch cushion. "Ugh, this is like prison." She peeked up at you, her eyes twinkling. "Well, if I can't distract you, maybe I can just entertain myself in other ways."

You shot her a sideways glance. "What are you thinking?"

A mischievous grin spread across her face as she sat up. "Well, since I'm grounded, I guess I'll be productive too." She stood up, stretching dramatically. "I'll organize my life!"

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going. "Organize your life?"

Paige nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! Grounded or not, I've got to get things done." She grabbed a few items off the coffee table—a random assortment of books, clothes, and a couple of things you hadn't even noticed and started stacking them in strange, random piles around the apartment.

"Isn't that your pile of clothes that need to be folded?" you asked, squinting in confusion as she carefully placed it on the couch with a very serious look on her face.

"Exactly! I'm organizing," Paige declared. "And look, this pile of notebooks? This can be a bookshelf now." She stacked your textbooks one on top of the other, like a wobbly tower.

You could feel the corners of your mouth twitching as you watched her carefully make piles of the mess she had just created. It was almost like a game to her, one where she took the grounding seriously, but in a very "Paige" way.

"Well, I can't argue with your dedication," you said dryly, shaking your head.

Paige gave a mock salute. "Thank you, thank you. I do my best." Then she went over to the window, pulling the curtains closed before turning back with a puzzled expression. "Why is it that when you want to study, the world decides to have fun without you? Like, this should be a communal thing! We should all be focused and studying together, but no—here I am, stuck organizing random piles of stuff."

You stifled a laugh. "It's called 'discipline,' babe. Something you could learn a little more about."

"Ugh, I have plenty of discipline!" she replied, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "I'm grounded. I'm not complaining. You're the one who grounded me! I'm just making the best of a bad situation."

You shook your head, finally giving in to the amusement bubbling inside. "I never thought you'd take grounding so seriously."

"I'm a responsible adult," Paige declared with exaggerated seriousness, though her eyes were full of mischief. "I take my responsibilities seriously."

You chuckled, feeling the tension of your studies easing just a little. As ridiculous as it was, Paige's attempt at being responsible and her newfound "organization skills" was distracting enough to break the monotony. It wasn't quite what you had imagined your study session would look like, but the amusement she brought was a welcome interruption.

Paige, growing bored of her self-imposed "organization," flopped back onto the couch again, but this time she kept a respectful distance. "Okay, okay. I can't do this anymore. Watching you study is like watching paint dry. I don't care how much of a genius you are, this is painful."

"Well, you're the one who's grounded. I'm studying. It's what responsible people do," you teased.

Paige poked her tongue out at you before snatching a cushion and tossing it at your head. "I know, I know. But you're so serious about it! This is your life now? Books, notes, and highlighters?"

"Unfortunately, yeah," you said, only half-kidding. "But once I finish studying, maybe we can actually do something fun."

Paige looked at you thoughtfully. "Yeah, yeah. I guess I can survive a few more hours of silence. As long as we get to go out and do something fun afterward, I'll suffer through this."

You gave her a pointed look. "No more distractions?"

She held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, fine! I'll behave. But only because I love you."

"And because you're grounded," you added with a smile, sitting back down and picking up your pen again.

Paige laughed softly, curling into the couch, still playing the part of the obedient, grounded girlfriend—at least for now. "Yeah, yeah, grounded. I'll be good."

For the next little while, the silence wasn't quite as peaceful as you'd imagined. It was a strange mixture of quiet focus and Paige's playful energy, still radiating in the background. But it worked. You managed to finish a few more pages of notes, and Paige seemed to settle into her self-imposed confinement, her boredom shifting from dramatic antics to occasional mutterings as she tried to occupy herself with her own brand of "responsibility."

As you closed your notebook, finished with your study session, you looked over at her. Paige had somehow turned the "grounding" into her own personal challenge and in a way, she had kept her word. Even if she hadn't exactly been a model citizen in the conventional sense, you couldn't deny that her presence, however unconventional, made the long study session feel a lot less grueling.

"All right, I'm done," you said, stretching. "We can finally take a break."

Paige jumped up from the couch, a wide grin on her face. "Yes! I've earned my freedom!"

"Just remember," you said with a smirk, "If I have to study again tonight, you're back to being grounded."

Paige held her hands up in mock surrender. "I've learned my lesson. I'll behave... mostly."

As you two left the apartment to enjoy the evening, you couldn't help but think that, as exhausting as it was, life with Paige and her colorful brand of "responsibility" was never boring.

[mythicmanuscripts]

..reader changing their signature clothing/accessory/whatever color to blue after marrying Aemond

Oh my god anon you are an absolute genius, I love this so much.

Nothing NSFW in this, just soft fluffy Aemond. Enjoy lads!

---------------------------

Firstly, I've always found it interesting how Aemond has a sapphire in his eye and not an emerald? Even if the sapphire was a random choice, he absolutely could have gotten an emerald to replace it once it became clear that the war would end up being blacks v greens.

Yet for some reason he never did. He says he wishes to serve his house yet he does not wear the color of his house? He didnt just not choose a colour, he actively chose a color other than the color of his house and would have had plenty of opportunities to swop it but always chose not to.

I've always thought that the choice of sapphire was a way of him distancing himself from his family, of showing how he isnt quite like them, isnt quite a green in the same way they are.

It's this that makes me think you choosing to wear blue would be so meaningful for him. When you first agree to the match and the wedding planning gets underway, you wear green. Of course you do, you're joining that family, you have to be seen as loyal to them. In particular you have to make sure you're seen as loyal to Allicent, that you're wear their green, their symbols, showing your integration into their house.

After the wedding, you slowly become closer with Aemond and begin to learn about him. You start to hear stories of how it was growing up for him, how he lost the eye, how he hates being the second son. He has so much more to him than you first expected.

You don't pressure Aemond to take off the eyepatch. You want him to be comfortable with you and that means you can't break his trust, ever.

But once he does take it off and you see the sapphire, you know immediately what you must do. You're able to make that choice now because you're part of the family. You no longer need to be on your best behaviour to ensure the match isnt called off. You're married to Aemond now. You don't need Allicent's approval to secure your place here anymore.

So you start to look for blue clothing items, in particular you look for that deep sapphire blue. You get necklaces and bracelets with sapphires, you get new dresses that are deep blue, coats and scarves too. Aemond doesn't notice the new clothes arriving, until one day you join him for lunch and you're wearing all blue.

He stares for a moment, awestruck, and then just says you look beautiful and things go back to normal. He thought this was just a new outfit you had gotten somehow, which is perfectly fine with him you can buy whatever you want. But then a few days later you're dressing for an event you must attend with him and again he sees you put on blue? This time he even sees you put on a necklace with a sapphire inside.

He forces himself to look away and refuses to even look at you for the entire event. You think you've done something horribly wrong, especially when he seats himself at the very end of the row of seats and you are forced to sit two rows down from him all on you own.

He leaves before you do, and so you when you watch back to your chambers alone you're surprised to see he is already there. You ask him what was wrong, and he just takes off his eyepatch and pulls you into a hug, crying softly into your shoulder because you've chosen him. You and him have your own side in this war, and that is the side that will prevail.

[sun-kissy]

my lovely san !! sorry i'm so late to this 😭 but could i please please request a 🧣with remus + “are you- are you seriously playing with my hair? now?!” 🤎 ((and why isn't you x me an option?))

can't wait to see what you come with, love you ! 🫶🏼✨

no apologies necessary at all, dear nicole! thank you for the request <33 (and you’re so right, i should’ve put you x me as an option 😔) anywho, here’s your scarf babes🧣 love you!

entangled | r.l.

— “Are you — are you seriously playing with my hair? Now?!”

remus lupin x reader

summary: remus and you get entangled in fairy lights while decorating for a party

“Hey.” You hear Remus from behind you, the shuffling of his feet as he takes his shoes off. “Hey, sweetheart. You need any help with that?”

You grunt your dissent from your place on the top rung of the ladder. There’s a dull ache in your toes from how long you’ve been tip-toeing, trying to hang up fairy lights for the New Year’s party later. It had come to you and Remus to host it this time, after James and Lily’s cosy sleepover two years prior and Sirius’ disco party last year.

Remus was a natural at this kind of thing, and you were glad for it. He’d taken it upon himself to prepare most of it – the food, movies, and even fireworks. But you had insisted that he couldn’t be doing everything, it wasn’t fair for your lovely boyfriend to be so… lovely. 

He finally conceded and let you handle the decorations. You weren’t exactly having much luck with it.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“No!”

Remus chuckles quietly, and you feel the gentle pressure of his hands on your ladder, steadying it. You mutter a disgruntled, “thank you,” and he presses an appeased kiss to the back of your thigh.

You manage to loop one end of the string of lights around the hook on the wall, letting out a quiet exhale as you place your heels back down on the metal rung. Remus gives your foot an indulgent squeeze as he looks around the living room. “You’ve outdone yourself, lovely girl. The house looks really good.”

You grin. “I told you I could handle it.” You run your hands down the length of the string of lights, fingers landing on a particularly big knot.

“I didn’t think you wouldn’t be able to.” You hear the smile in his voice. You’re focused on the task in front of you, nails digging into the small spaces between the tangled up string to pull it loose. “I just didn’t want you to overexert yourself or anything, you know? You’ve been working so hard these past few days, even though it’s the holiday season.”

“I know,” you mutter, tugging on the section of lights you got a grip on. You grasp the string with one hand while you pull with the other, one foot going behind the other in an attempt to get some kind of leverage on the nasty knot threatening to wreck your efforts. “But I –”

Remus lets out a quiet shit just as you yelp – you trip. One foot goes around the other, giving way for gravity to wrap its arms around you. The string of lights quickly unravels from the hook and the ladder clangs to the floor horrifically. You thud straight onto Remus.

Tangled. Everything is tangled; limbs and lights and you. Remus groans from below you, and you can’t help but let out a giggle at how you’re positioned. He took the brunt of the fall for you, your back on his chest and face right next to his.

You turn to look at him. “Hi, Rem.”

He opens his half-lidded eyes, fixing you with a deadpan gaze. He looks silly; you expect you look quite the same. The colourful fairy lights blink mockingly, here and there and everywhere where they entangle you. “Hi, doofus.”

“Hey!”

“Well, you are a doofus,” he sighs, trying to wriggle his hands out from beside him. But he’s stuck underneath the weight of you, binded by the decorations like ropes holding him hostage. 

You grin, shifting slightly so you’re lying on your stomach. You reach out to pull a string of lights free from his hair. 

Remus blinks. “Are you – are you seriously playing with my hair? Now?!”

You giggle, and he can’t help but melt. He tries but fails to maintain his grumpy pout; it’s not his fault he can’t feel anything but affection at the sight of you. 

“I’m not playing with your hair, Rem. Just trying to help.”

“You can help by getting off me, you know.” 

You laugh and roll off of him. He pulls you back towards him for a kiss, to which you happily oblige. 

You let Remus press his lips to yours a few more times before disentangling yourself. You don’t help him, and he pretends to complain – yet he’ll love his doofus girlfriend either way.

san's christmas sleepover

[minnietrys]

Cherish

◯ Cho Hyun-ju x Fem! Reader

▵ Alternative universe! (Baby youngmi is alive)

□ fluff, some flirting, small mentions of homophobia and transphobia

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Warning this is the first time I write fanfic since I was 12 writing on Wattpad… so please let me know how I do! I wanna bring mine and people wanted fanfics to life because they ain’t any for baddie hyunju.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

She was beyond lost, her family, friends, and all her loved ones turned their back on her once she finally started being who she felt like who she should be. Maybe she did something bad in her past life to deserve this. Or maybe she was mentally ill like they said.

All those thoughts keep pounding into her head as she just sits. Sits all alone feeling more alone then she see looks.

“Excuse me ma’am?” Hyunju jumps out of thoughts but multiple keep coming at her at that word ‘ma’am’. It’s like the missing piece finally met the puzzle. It makes her feel better about herself. Makes her feel like she was right about her feelings.

“Um…would you like more coffee?” The waitress asks. Finally Hyunju looks up and finally answers “oh my yes. Sorry I have a lot going through my head I guess I tuned you out. I’m so sorry” she was nervous with the reply. She finally gets a glimpse of the waitress name ‘y/n’ she must say it’s a pretty name for a good looking girl.

“Oh that’s fine! That happens to me a lot!” y/n said with a joyful smile. But hyunju feels safe in that smile. Like all her worries can just disappear.

Wait no she has to snap out of this. She just barely met her for crying out loud. More importantly you haven’t even told her your name she just had wandering eyes. But she would love to know you.

“Um..this may sound totally odd but can I have your number? You just seem like a really nice person that I wanna know.” Hyunju put her big girl pants on and finally shot the answer. Though her palms are so sweaty with the need for your answer.

Most people look at her with disgust and say nasty things to her face. But not you. You have the look of kindness something she hasn’t seen or felt in awhile.

“Oh..s-sure? Sorry I don’t get asked for my number as often” she noticed you nervous movements. Maybe it was a bad idea to ask. Maybe you feel pressured. Maybe she came off as threatening. Maybe you hate who she is. Maybe you—

“Here, please text me or call me. I’m y/n by the way and your name?” Her thoughts were cut off when you gave her a paper from your notepad with your number, name and a heart?!?! A heart! She started feeling flustered, but remembered your question.

“C-cho Hyunju..” she answered very timidly. “Well then by the looking of it your Hyunju unnie, right?”you said hoping to not just have guessed wrong.

But the word keeping racing though her head ‘unnie’ a name she thought someone will never call her but someone did and she hopes she can continue to cherish this moment and that person.

She just nods, but you smile “Well I hope you see that text from you unnie, if not I will not give you any more sugar for your coffee.” Hyunju fakes gasps “So what if I don’t text but I call instead will I still get the sugar?” she try’s to hide the little smirk forming on her face.

“Hmm nope, you will actually have to buy me coffee instead if you call” you say with blush hoping to not come off as pushy. “Well then I suppose I will call because that’s a better deal than just some sugar.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Ahh let me know if this was good and maybe if I should make it a series! I will also try different characters and plot lines

[mourning-sapphire]

living dead girl | aemond targaryen | teaser

Summary: You didn’t think going to a gig would then have you on your back in a hotel room with the lead guitarist between your thighs and a blinking red light on the nightstand.

Pairing: Metal Guitarist!Aemond x Reader (modern au)

Warnings: voyeurism/filming sexual acts, strip tease, soft dom!aemond, a lil dry humping.

Teaser Word count: 1187

The air between you crackled with tension and heat as you got up, your legs trembling from lust as you stood between his parted legs. It was nerve-wracking, looking down at him and the blinking red light, his gaze rolling over your form hungrily. Your hands trembled as they gripped the hem of your shirt, Aemond’s gaze and the camcorder burning into you; unwavering and unrelenting. He was memorising every move you made.

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushing under his intense scrutiny, however, the heat in his gaze was reassuring, grounding you in a way that made your nerves fade into the background. Slowly, you lifted the fabric, revealing more of your skin inch by inch. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as the shirt finally cleared your head, your hair fluffing around you as you dropped the fabric off to the side like it was nothing. He let out a low hum of approval at the sight of your bare chest, the shirt you wore to his gig not built for wearing a bra under it.

His room wasn’t the warmest in the world as you felt your nipple pebble with the cooler air, and the look of his eyes feasting on each piece of skin you showed. He was laid out like a Greek god and you were his water nymph he was playing with; one of his legs bent on the bed to rest his foot on the edge, widening his stance. All in an attempt to clearly ease some pressure from his erection.

"Good girl," he murmured, his eye raking over you with unfiltered hunger, his hand surprisingly steady with the camera as he let one hand go to palm himself, a flush blooming over your chest and cheeks from the action. "Now the rest for me, nice and slow."

His words, paired with the way he sat back like he had all the time in the world, sent a blooming heat through you. Your hands slid to the waistband of your shorts, emboldened by his words as you caressed your skin on the way, unbuttoning them with deliberate slowness as you followed his command. Each movement felt like a performance under his intense gaze, the weight of his attention making your heart pound harder.

“Look at you, baby,” He sang softly, appreciating you as the shorts slid down your legs and onto the floor, you stood there, bare save for your underwear and tights, feeling simultaneously exposed and powerful under his gaze. “Putting on a show just for me…”

"Perfect," he said softly, almost to himself, before tilting his head to get a better look at you, his platinum hair falling over his shoulder. "The rest of it too, baby, turn around and show me…”

You swallowed thickly at that, the low rasp of his voice sending shivers down your spine as your nipple only pebbled more at his tone. Aemond’s gaze never wavered from your body, his intensity a weight in your chest that kept grounding you in the moment. You gnawed softly at your lip, hesitating for only a moment before spinning slowly on your toes, letting him drink in every exposed movement. The stillness of the room let you hear his sharp inhale, which was low but unmistakable, a subtle confirmation that he liked every inch of what he saw.

His gaze burned as it followed the curve of your back, your hands moving to the waistband of your tights as he asked. Your body rolled down with them, giving a little wiggle to your hips, as your hands worked on sliding them down inch by inch. The fabric clung to your legs before pooling at your ankles, kicked off to the side and leaving you bare but for the thin piece of cotton that clung to your hips.

As you straightened, your heart hammered in your chest anxious to make sure you were doing good for him, your lip still between your teeth as you glanced over your shoulder at him.

Aemond’s lips parted slightly from behind the camera, his tongue darting out to wet them again like he was restraining himself. "Turn back around, baby…" he murmured, his voice low and rough, the barest hint of a growl behind his words.

You obeyed, slowly turning to face him, your hands instinctively moving to rest at your sides. His gaze roamed over you, lingering at your hips, the lines of your legs, rolling back up over your chest, and finally returning to your face. His smirk deepened, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in satisfaction.

His gaze didn’t waver as he reached out to place the camera off to the side, the red light moving like a star in the sky as he rested it just out of reach but you had no doubt it still had the two of you in view. He didn’t need to say another word in the moment as he held his hand out to beckon you closer, your legs hitting the edge of the bed as his hand rested on your hip, guiding you closer with deliberate slowness.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a low purr as he leaned back further, his back hitting the sheet this time, spreading his legs just enough to make space for you. "Climb up, baby. I want you right here."

Your heart thundered in your chest as you obeyed, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm but not restrictive as you settled into his lap.

The feel of his denim-clad legs beneath you was rough, a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch as his thumbs began tracing slow circles on your skin. He was hard as a rock as he tugged you forward slightly, resting your core over that hardness as you squirmed. Your hands resting softly on his hips for balance as you gazed down at him. His belt buckle was cool even through the thin material of your panties, every breath feeling like it was nudging you further into the cold metal as you fought a small whine that was building in your throat.

"You look so good like this, baby…" Aemond said, his gaze locking onto yours, the hunger in it making you feel like the only person in the world. "So fucking beautiful."

Heat pooled in your stomach as his words wrapped around you, his praise making you feel bolder despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. Your hands moved to rest on his waist, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his tee. His smirk deepened as he felt each little squirm of your hips, the scent of leather and faint cologne wrapping around you like a second skin.

"Move for me," he coaxed, his voice a quiet demand that left no room for argument. His hands guided your hips gently, encouraging you to rock against him, the friction sparking a delicious heat between your bodies. "Just like that, baby. Let me see how good you feel."

Full fic coming very very soon...

[narcissisticsmoker]

The air between us feels electric, thick with the tension that’s been building all night. You’re standing there, pinned against the wall, your chest rising and falling with shaky breaths as you stare up at me. Your eyes—half defiant, half begging—ignite something raw inside me. I step closer, my body pressing into yours, leaving no space between us. My hand comes up to your neck, my grip firm but measured, tilting your head back just enough to bare the soft, vulnerable curve of your throat.

“You’ve been testing me all night,” I growl, my voice low and rough, vibrating against your skin. “Flirting, teasing, pretending you can get away with it. But we both know better, don’t we?”

I don’t wait for an answer. My lips brush over your neck, just enough to make your breath hitch, my teeth grazing the delicate skin. You shiver against me, your hands clutching at my shirt, your body caught between pushing me away and pulling me closer.

When I bite down, it’s deliberate—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp sharply, the sound turning into a soft moan as I hold you there, my teeth sinking just enough to leave a mark that blooms instantly beneath my lips. “Feel that?” I murmur, my breath hot against the now-tender skin. “That’s me, baby. You’re mine now. Everyone who sees this will know exactly who owns you.”

I pull back slightly, my thumb brushing over the fresh bruise, watching the way your body reacts to the faint pressure. You wince, but there’s no resistance, just the way your breathing quickens, your chest pressing harder into mine. “Every time it aches, every time you see it in the mirror, you’ll remember this moment,” I whisper, my voice dark and possessive. “You’ll remember how easily I make you fall apart.”

My other hand slides down your side, tracing every curve deliberately, gripping your waist hard enough to leave its own mark. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” I murmur, my lips trailing lower, kissing the edges of the bruise, soothing and claiming all at once. “To feel me here. To carry me on your skin like a secret no one else gets to know.”

I press my body closer, my thigh slipping between your legs, eliciting a small, helpless sound from you. “Look at you,” I smirk, my voice dripping with control. “You act so strong, so defiant, but you’re trembling for me now, aren’t you? Falling apart, just like I wanted.”

I tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet my gaze, my fingers tightening slightly around your throat. “Say it,” I growl, my lips brushing over yours but not giving in. “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your lips tremble, your voice barely a whisper, but it’s enough. “You,” you breathe, and I reward you with a rough, claiming kiss, my hand still firm on your throat, my grip on your waist unyielding.

When I finally pull back, leaving you flushed and shaking, my thumb brushes over the bruise one last time. “Good girl,” I murmur, my voice softening but still thick with dominance. “Now, go ahead. Try to forget who put this on you. I dare you.”

[spookyrea]

Been a While Since I've Held Anything

When a picture of Loki's soulmark goes viral, his mood takes a dramatic turn. He's moody, rude, and trying to ingratiate himself to you in bizarre ways. Maybe it has something to do with the anonymous love letter you sent him while trying to build up the courage to tell him how you really feel. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that your soulmarks match.

Chapter 1 / 3 - read on AO3

A soulmate-identifying mark AU - no warnings, though epilogue will contain smut

(chapter 2) (epilogue)

Dear Loki, you wrote. You’re vile.

The picture was uploaded to Twitter on December 12th at exactly 3:43 pm. It was terrible quality, taken in a dimly-lit bar. Loki’s head was bowed to hear his brother over the din, his hair drawn up for all the heat in the packed bar. A perfect storm of circumstance to allow his shirt collar to ride low on his shoulders, exposing the elegant slope where his neck met his spine - and about three quarters of his soulmark. 

Loki’s mark was a delicate thing. Twenty-two dots of varying sizes, curved in a crescent shape along the top of his spine to disappear into obscurity. It was a shape so familiar that you could have traced it blind – because it was also yours.

I don’t have the words to describe how you make me feel. You make me feel stupid. You frighten me. 

Someone like him left the public particularly susceptible to match hysteria – a phenomenon where infatuated individuals became convinced they were a match despite the obvious fact that they weren’t - and within a matter of hours the Avengers Tower was inundated with love letters. Pepper immediately benched him to the auxiliary rota, essentially dooming Loki to a few weeks of house arrest until the fervor could die down.

I hate your mouth, and your hair, and your eyes. Everything about him made your skin ache, ultraviolet hot like a sunburn. On a good day, Loki was charming; on a bad day, he could bring countries to their knees with a smile. On the rare occasion that that attention had been turned on you, you understood keenly why he was called Silvertongue – it was difficult to remove yourself from the fantasy that he might be interested in you when he leaned in so closely, spoke with such intimate conspiracy in his voice.  I hate how vulnerable you make me feel. 

You hoped that, by getting the awfulness of lovesickness out on paper, you could eventually begin to draft a real love letter. Something to slip through his mailslot alongside the deluge of adoring fans. He would never read it – Loki had made his thoughts on the public’s “meagre attempts at poetry” quite clear. (Though that didn’t stop his preening at the absolute magnitude of letters - and how each one seemed to raise Tony’s blood pressure just that little bit higher).

Yours,

You signed the letter with your name and slid it into a nondescript envelope for the formality of it all, sealed with a lick to the underside, and tucked it away in a junk drawer to be forgotten about.

You would write a dozen more love letters. They would range from sweet to obsessive, pouring onto paper every ounce of affection you felt. You fought gods and monsters and would-be bank robbers; if you could survive having your solar plexus shattered and four-weeks of bed rest, you could mail off one silly letter confessing that your coworker made your brain go fuzzy.

You eventually picked one and mailed it off -- anonymously -- along with your heart and every anxiety you had ever owned. 

(You almost believed it when you told yourself that this put you one step closer to actually telling him to his face.)

You would find that very letter in a drawer, seven weeks later. Untouched. Unsent.

“Look alive, agent.” Steve knocked you with his shoulder. He was too big for the backseat of the smart car you’d rented at the airport, meaning he had to crane his neck to avoid hitting the roof on every speed bump. “Simple extraction mission: escort Loki to the cargo, he’ll do his little magic trick, and we’ll be warm and on our way home before Santa comes.”

Steve wasn’t particularly devout; he didn’t go to mass on Sundays, and he swore like a sailor and drank twice as much (to little effect), but he took Christmas incredibly seriously. He had been compiling lists of possible presents for months and, despite the team running the gamut from Muslim to Jewish to Literal God, everyone would be getting a gift tomorrow morning.

Loki, though not as broad as Steve, was also suffering in the backseat to your right. His legs were folded ungracefully in the meager space behind the passenger seat, twisted to press up tightly to yours. There was nowhere to run between Steve and Loki, so you had to endure the terrible pleasure of the weight of Loki's thigh against yours for the entire ride.

It made the soulmark on the back of your neck burn. You wondered, as Clint took a turn too hard and Steve's weight forced you into Loki's side, if Loki felt that same itch. If the dots scattered down his back also sang whenever your hands brushed.

“Here we are,” Loki growled. The car rolled up two blocks away from your destination - a bank where an artifact said to be able to “control the minds of the weak-willed” was being stored in a safety deposit box. According to FRIDAY, the artifact was warded with a powerful magic that would unwind all but the most powerful sorcerers at the seams.

 (It’s just energy, Tony had grumbled, give me a few days and I can figure it out. 

Loki, with a terrible sneer, responded: Or you could just let the expert handle it.) 

You were there to provide backup should the plan go South. Your super-strength meant you could go toe-to-toe with most armed guards, holding off the worst of it until Steve, Nat and Clint could come to your rescue.

“Shall we, pet?” One of his gloves hands laced through yours. “Try not to get us killed, hmm?”

“What are you going to do about your,” you waved your free hand in front of your face.

His seidr sighed, crossing over him with a light hand; his features didn’t change (same sharp nose and cock-sure smile, though maybe a touch more gaunt) but his hair shortened and lightened to a pale auburn. He fixed you with a doe-eyed stare, dark brown eyes peering up through a fan of pale eyelashes; his attention – preternatural in its intensity – lit something inside of you that made you nervous, made you shy. Because despite the pale hair and the dark eyes, despite the freckles – it was still Loki. Still the most devastating smile you had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

When he spoke, he laid on a thick accent - Brooklyn, maybe. “Who would ever suspect me now?”

Your crush on Loki was basically public knowledge on the team; you could hardly stand to be in the same room as him some days because of how embarrassed he made you feel. It dissolved all human poise and reduced you to animal instinct, it seemed, because every time he turned to you at a party, or at breakfast, or in the backseat of a quin-jet in the early morning hours, you lost any ability to form full sentences and found yourself blinking cow-eyes at him until you could excuse yourself. If your avoidance bothered him, Loki never commented, but he did make an impressive effort to lord over as much of your attention as possible. Rare was the occasion when Loki was not teasing you, or asking after you, seeming to revel in your infatuation.

“Of course,” he continued. “My real soulmate would be able to recognize me based on shape alone. Which is demonstrative of how ridiculous the entire farce is, anyway – it took a picture for these souls to finally realize I was their match? Laughable. I have spent aeons tangling the threads of lovers – why should I trust the Norns to be kind to me?”

Loki stepped out of the car and hauled you along behind him. “Rest assured, pet – no number of pretty things claiming that my heart belongs to them will ever draw my eye. They are but window dressing in my already magnificent life.”

His mark was a heavy iron weight on the back of your neck. “That’s a terrible accent,” you blurted out.

His smile dropped away, affront evident in the way his nose tipped upwards; there was a lingering static charge to him, and you could feel his seidr humming in your back teeth. In his regular voice, he said, “I thought it was alright.”

“No one from Brooklyn talks like that.”

“Well, maybe you’ll appreciate it more once you see the accessories.” Loki drew from thin air a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, which he adjusted to sit high on his nose. “Don’t you think they make me look scholarly? What a gentleman.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. 

“What? You don’t like it?”

“I don’t think I have time to like it. We need to move, now.” A job was at least a welcome distraction; despite the way your skin crawled when Loki looked at you, you could narrow your attention to the work at hand. 

Loki conjured an armful of paper bags for the two of you, masquerading as a pair of Christmas shoppers. He ushered you into the bank with a hand on your back before stepping into his charming persona, plastering on the widest grin you had ever seen.

Getting into the bank vaults was easy enough; Loki prattled on about honeymoons and pre-nuptials and getting your valuables in order to a clerk who was clearly quite taken by him. As soon as she left the two of you alone in the back room, Loki leapt into action.

“Tony said we were looking for–”

“I know which one it is.” With a snap of his fingers, the security cameras overhead sizzled and drooped.

“How long do you think it will take them to notice the cameras are down?”

Loki’s seidr pried the door off one of the safety deposit lockers like it was made of plastic and not reinforced steel. “If they’re not completely incompetent? My guess would be a couple of minutes.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, then.”

“You do that.”

You watched him work with a certain kind of love in your eye, admiring the outline of his profile as he unknotted the ropes holding the cargo together. It had been swelling, some sweet thing, in your chest now for some time – your match, it would whisper, growing frantic by the day, you were meant to be!  

If only you could get over the fear; the fear of rejection, of ridicule, or worst of all – patent indifference. The idea that Loki might look at your neck and not laugh, not sneer, but merely shrug, repeating his disinterest in letting fate choose for him.

“Pet,” he drawled. “Are you going to help? Or would you prefer to stand there and glower all day?”

You leaned backwards into the hall, craning your neck to see if anyone was coming. “I don’t glower.”

“Glare. Sneer. You may pick any synonyms you wish. Now, fetch me the gauntlet from my bag before we’re discovered and I have to invent some new ruse to whisk ourselves off to safety.”

He said it all with a scowl. It was rare to see him smile as of late; he seemed to follow the team around the tower like a perpetual storm cloud, sticking his nose into business he had no right to be implicated in; making snide, snobbish comments whenever possible. You imagined it had something to do with his soulmark being revealed; despite his boisterousness, he was a quiet, private sort when intimate details were concerned. He would prefer to keep the public - even his friends - at an arm’s length, lest he need to extricate himself quickly. 

To have something so personal broadcast so carelessly – well, you were sure it was chewing at him.

You handed him the metal glove, which he strapped around his wrist and forearm with a medical precision. His seidr hummed with each tug of the fastenings, speaking in hymns too old for you to understand. A startling quiet overcame Loki’s expression, before he flicked his wrist, conjuring sparks of green at his fingertips, and slowly sank his hand into the packing material in the box.

“You feel any different?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Please. This is child’s play compared to some of the tricks I played on Thor. I’m not sure I even require the gauntlet, honestly.”

Despite his lofty attitude, dread needled at your ribs. The box gave off a similar energy as Loki did, something that smelled like sea salt and ozone, and the two competing forces were making you feel a bit nauseous. If he needed help, you wouldn’t be much help – it would tear you in two without an afterthought – so you could only trust that he had it under control.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m going to die.” Terribly slowly, Loki twisted his arm and began to dredge the artifact up from its packing material. “Have some faith.”

It was the strangest sensation; as soon as the gauntlet - tech that Tony had drafted to interrupt other forces from interacting with Loki’s seidr after a nasty run in with a witch - was removed, you felt a sparkling, smacking kiss on your temple, as if to placate your anxiety. You glanced around but found no potential source of a draft.

“Are you playing some sort of trick on me?”

Loki shot you a glare. “Why would I do that?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

He didn’t deign to respond. The two of you abandoned the safety deposit box the clerk had pulled out for you as well as most of your pretend shopping bags and began navigating the halls at random, trying to find an exit in the unfamiliar layout. It was pure luck that the holiday meant the building was understaffed; you somehow made it to a fire exit without being accosted, though you could hear the beginnings of a commotion picking up now that the dead cameras were being discovered.

Beyond the fire escape, there was a familiar flash of blue-and-red as Steve swept past the bank, the brim of his baseball cap pulled low enough to hide his face from an unsuspecting crowd. You threw your shoulder against the door, which dented with a grating crunch. An alarm began to wail overhead.

“You coming?”

Loki’s grin was repugnant and bleeding innuendo – the most attractive thing you’d ever seen, really. “I hope so.”

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“I’m afraid you make it too easy for me to tease.”

Loki shoved the artifact into a bag (not trusting it off his person in some pocket dimension or another) and then the two of you tried as surreptitiously as possible to blend into the sea of Christmas shoppers.

“Howdy, agents.” Steve tapped you with his elbow, the only physical acknowledgement of your presence. He kept his eyes faced forward, a calculated disinterest in his pursed mouth; if you didn’t know him so well, you would almost believe him to be talking on the phone through some hidden earbud. But then he glanced, side-long, at you and managed to convey everything you needed to know: you’ve been compromised, a car was coming, survive until then.

He grunted. “You got everything?”

You were not nearly as adept at subtle communication. “Yep. No issues.”

“One issue,” Loki growled. His hand curled around your elbow and yanked you backwards just as a convoy turned the corner, crawling down the snow-heavy street. Steve veered right, crossing the road with his shoulders pulled high; you would have made to follow if Loki hadn’t elbowed you aside, out of the sight lines of the convoy, before slinking off ahead. You watched his bright red hair melt into the crowd – and then a great boomerang of green light rocketed off a lamppost, giving you just enough time to scurry down an alleyway and through a chainlink fence.

Loki’s seidr hung heavy in the air, swelling like a thunderstorm. Even as you put one, two, five blocks between yourself and the bank, you could still hearing is humming in your ears; headlights on parked cars would spring to life without prompting; window displays would glow radium-green in your periphery. You had no doubt that Loki was having the time of his life causing a distraction… though you worried what the consequences of too much fun might be if his disguise was discovered.

You kept walking. The city began to recede, thinning out to apartment buildings and stretches of public park lawns. There wasn’t much room to hide out here; you turned a random corner and tried to retrace your steps from a couple of blocks over.

Panic brushed up on you like a hungry stray when another glossy convoy rolled down the road, close enough for you to make out the heavy brow of an enemy agent behind the wheel. You tamped it down and tried to gather your bearings, searching for a street sign – anything that might allow you to collect your bearings. You crossed a road and hurried into an alley; maybe you could climb a fire escape and get to higher ground to await extraction.

A hand closed around your hip, yanking you backwards. You startled, half turning, fists raised to defend yourself, when a staticky sensation licked up your cheek in greeting.

“You’re like a skittish cat,” Loki growled. His fingers pinched the same spot that his seidr had touched you. “Is that what I should call you? Kitten?”

Your heart tripped over itself. “Rude.”

“I can be ruder.”

“Do you know where we are?”

Loki curled, his body one long line of crooked confidence, around you, tipping his head to speak in your ear. “Absolutely no clue.”

“Okay.” The closeness made you a little dumb. You blinked at him, admiring the way the snow caught on his pale eyelashes and didn’t melt. Though his skin felt warm, almost humanly-so, it must have been an illusion. Just one more layer of pretense, like how he and Thor blinked less frequently than normal people, or the strange cadence they adopted when speaking in private. “Do you think your seidr gave you away?”

“Maybe.” 

You weren’t sure why you were whispering. “I hope that disguise of yours is good enough.”

“Not even my soulmate would recognize me, kitten.”

Loki followed you with a hand fisted in the fabric of your coat; the streets were wild, requiring you to dart around passersby at random intervals, and it was safer to stay in pairs than to break off on your own. Occasionally, you thought you caught sight of Steve or Natasha, but neither you nor Loki was willing to stop moving to check. You walked a complicated knot, turning at random, ducking into department stores like every other couple on Christmas Eve. This close, you could hear his seidr rumbling, that tinny sound bouncing off of telephone poles and street lamps in his excitement. 

You eventually found some quiet in a side street a few blocks off the main drag, tucked between two apartment blocks with plenty of exit strategies. You leaned against a short fence, pausing to catch your breath. “You can let go of me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Loki vanished the shopping bags he had been holding in both hands. “I’m not touching you?”

As he blinked back at you, you felt the distinct impression of five warm fingerprints soothing over your lower back. The twinkling sound returned, followed by a humming in your molars that betrayed the presence of magic. “You’re sure about that?”

You expected some snide comment or witty response, but Loki’s head only titled. He raised a finger to his lips; his eyes were narrowed, cast to the side as if to focus. A wave of green light glanced off his hand; the air around you warped and bent like a mirage, just in time for a silver drone to zip by over your heads.

Your breath felt a little thin. “Good catch.”

“I have some decent qualities.” A pause drew on between the two of you. “If we stay like this… we should be able to avoid detection.”

You shifted your weight, leaning ever so slightly away in order to calm your racing heart. This seemed to upset Loki; the phantom hand on your back wriggled, urging you deeper into his personal space.

This close, you had little choice but to admire the shape of him. There was a military poise to him, a rigidness to his shoulders that gave the impression that he was wearing heavy plate-armour and not a wool coat. 

“Why red hair?”

“In your myths, I’m sometimes depicted as a red-head. I might have worn this version once or twice on my excursions as a youth.” He eyed you strangely. “Come now, kitten. Do you like what you see? This new Loki, he’s– sweet. He’ll even hold doors open.”

It was different, definitely – the light hair made him seem softer somehow, younger maybe, and he had topped the disguise off with a smattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose. It sent a secret thrill of delight through your chest when, upon closer examination, you discovered the shape of his soulmark scattered among them. Like fingerprints and tree rings – something innate, a secret coded in his DNA.

“Hmm…” You tried to feign nonchalance. “I think I like my usual Loki better.”

His mouth tipped up in one of those rare smiles, the quiet kind where the creases beside his eyes kissed, the slightest curve of shyness in his slanted brows. His hand, which was trailing a lazy path up and down your forearm, circled your elbow and gave you a squeeze. “Your Loki?”

“Our Loki,” you corrected. “Loki-Loki. You.”

“I could be anything, really. It’s all an illusion.” He drew you in by the sash tying your winter coat shut. You had a sneaking suspicion that, if you wore pigtails, he would be tugging on those too. “You seem to like this version. You certainly talk to it more. So come now, tell me – what is this version of me like? This fair-haired gentleman.”

“He’s nice, I guess.”

Loki nodded, his eyes fixed on your mouth. “I could be nice.”

“Nice?”

“Mhm. I can be anything at all.”

The streetlamps overhead sighed in the presence of magic. Loki’s seidr was a living thing swelling in the space between you; you felt it like a phantom mouth over yours, sliding over your skin, adoring and exotic. It seemed to thrill Loki, who leaned in even closer, his pale eyelashes fluttering, heavy with snowflakes and the weight of an almost-kiss.

“It doesn’t really matter what disguise you wear,” you mumbled, turning your face to the side. A car ambled past the mouth of the alley, digging deep wells in the snow. “You already know you’re hopelessly handsome.”

“Careful now,” Loki said quietly. “It almost sounds like you’re starting to like me.”

You scoffed – understatement of the century. When you gathered the courage to look back at him, Loki was frowning.

“I do like you,” you said quietly.

“You have a very strange way of showing it.”

“I like… how clever you are.”

“I like how I feel when you look at me.” Even in a moment of vulnerability such as this, Loki watched you like a wild animal. His hand walked a lazy path from your elbow up to your bicep. His eyes tracked the entire journey until he reached your shoulder, where his hand flattened and ghosted up the curve of your neck, so the tips of his fingers laid across the highest notches of your spine. A sigh escaped him, unbidden, coloured with a flush of wanting. An ardent sound. “ Ketlinkr… Kome nhér. Kis kis kis kis…” .

Softly, with a tentativeness you didn’t know him capable of, he closed his lips over your bottom one. A great tenderness swept over you; though both of his hands stood still, curved around your sides, a phantom sensation whispered over your neck, your temples, your cheeks, giggling in tiny, electric bursts, as if Loki’s emotions had spilled over and been animated by magic.

“In my most lecherous dreams, as of late, it’s my mark on your neck. Did you know that?” He drew himself closer, a slave to some innate gravity, and pressed his next words into the clammy skin where your pulse thrummed. “Do you ever think of me like that?”

It was half innuendo and half heartbreak. There was attraction, definitely, burning a hole in your skin where his hand was drawing a complicated figure-eight over your shoulder. But beneath that, sticky and nefarious like tar, was a desperation for validation. 

His lips slotted against yours again, firmer this time, at such an angle that the tip of his nose dug into your cheek. Strange magic welled, pooling in the hollow between your ribs – matched, you matched! 

You pulled away without finesse, sputtering. Loki followed as if to silence you, lurching, just missing your mouth to kiss the corner instead. “Wait– wait, stop,” you started.

Loki snatched himself away, his expression tense. “I can be nice. I have been nice, as of late.”

You were still a little fuzzy, disoriented by the kiss; your blood seemed to be rushing backwards, pumped out through your veins and back through your arteries. “What?”

“Do you really loathe me that much? Not even a new face can sway my – my vile image?”

“I feel left out of this conversation. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“You don't look at me.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair, vanishing the red from it to wisps of smoke until his natural hair colour returned, startlingly dark against his pale skin. “You turn your face. You find excuses to leave the room. You don’t do that with anyone else.”

You tilted your cheek to hide the heat creeping up under your skin. “I don’t turn away.”

Loki crowded up against you, taking your face between both his hands and manoeuvring you to look him in the eyes, green eyes, the glamour forgotten. Frustration carved a deep line between his brows; he opened his mouth as if to barrel on – before a self-deprecating laugh rushed out of him and he sank back on his heels. “There are hundreds of creatures pouring their love for me through my mailslot and I’m out chasing the one woman who wants nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not–”

“What’s not fair is that when I’m a perfect gentleman, you look away. No matter what face I put on, or how docile a creature I become, you slink off like you don’t trust me. I’m good. I have a purpose.” He threw his hands up in frustration. “What do I have to do to prove myself? Perhaps you’d prefer it if I prostrated myself on the ground?”

“I don’t not like you. I never didn’t like you.”

“I frighten you.”

“Yes!” You chewed on your lip. “Of course you do.”

He walked you backwards, a dangerous energy roiling in the air between you. Cold brick bit into the small of your back where it brushed the strip between your jacket and your jeans. “I can be anything. I’ve been many things, worn many faces. I’m good at it. Good at pretending. Just tell me how to act.”

“You frighten me because I like you.” You stumbled over your words in a rush. “Because I’m attracted to you.”

The phantom mouth was back; his seidr slid up the column of your throat, whispering a staticky sound just under your ear. “Because you don’t want to be.”

“Because we–” You cut yourself off. For all your waiting, for all the days spent agonising over how you wanted to tell him that you were soulmates - this was not how you wanted it to go. It was a hollow confession. “Because we match.”

His terrible expression stilled. It was a particular cruelty to reveal it in a moment such as this, but what other reason could you have given? It was the truth, plain and simple: you matched. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, then raked the same fingers through his hair. “I see.”

“Loki–”

“Bendr. The Asgardian word for soulmate. It translates to ‘wound’. Our ‘mortal wound’.”

“That’s morbid.”

Loki laughed. It was not a nice sound. “It’s true though, isn’t it? A soulmate is only one more flaw in my armour to have to account for. It– norns, this hurts. ”

Loki drew from thin air a piece of paper. One of the innumerable love letters he’d received, written on green parchment. Crinkled, weakened in the middle from how many times it had been opened and then refolded. 

"What is that?"

"You," he said gravely. "Wrote me a letter."

Your stomach twisted; you had written him a letter, but you were certain you hadn't signed it. It was all complimentary, though maybe a little over-the-top. You'd waxed poetic about his smile, and his sense of humour, and how every time he looked at you you felt like your heart was learning to beat all over again.

“Dear Loki,” he began. “You’re vile.”

It wasn’t a love letter – or at least, it hadn’t had the chance to be. Too embarrassed by your feelings, you’d struggled to put into words anything other than despair. You couldn’t conjure up clauses to any of your statements - you’re vile in a way that makes me laugh. Handsome in a way so infuriating that I can’t help but steal glances. Terribly witty. 

“... I hate the way you make me feel. I hate your mouth, and your hair, and your eyes….”

It wasn’t a love letter, yet Loki had kept it all the same. Folded and unfolded it. Ruminated on your poor opinion of him.

“A cruel joke,” he continued. “I thought you were shy, at first. I thought – I thought, perhaps, that I could charm you with jokes, or with some severe attentiveness. You're so skittish... Maybe I could prove I was worth the hassle, or… Make you see – I’m not sure what. I haven’t changed. I’m exactly the same insecure bastard that I always have been.” He winced. “And then I read your note.”

“I must’ve written a dozen letters.”

“All equally as eloquent, I'm sure.”

“I didn’t mean to send that one. The one I wanted to send was nice.”

He laughed - hollowed out. “We match.” 

“Loki…”

Tires crunched over fresh snow; a dark green jeep pulled up at the end of the alley. Loki took one step sideways, inserting himself in between you and the car, before his shoulders bent and drooped under a sudden weight. Natasha leant out of the driver’s side window, a knitted cap balanced on top of a mop of red curls. “Morning, strangers. You wouldn’t happen to know the way to the airport, would you?”

Strange magic – that's what people said about soulmates. It’s that strange magic. Like disappearing car keys or an extra spoon in the cutlery drawer. It was strange magic that placed that letter in front of Loki. Strange magic that hummed and chewed at you now, watching Loki fold himself into the back of your getaway car. 

Fate wasn’t kind to Loki, and it definitely wasn’t kind to you.

You didn’t leave your room all morning. Curled up in your bed, you traced the photo of Loki’s mark with your fingers and wondered at the mess you’d made. 

Loki had left you a letter the day following your return; he’d made himself scarce after, and seemingly bribed FRIDAY into refusing to disclose his location.

Thor and and I were born with star maps across our backs. On Asgard, this meant that we were destined to fight side-by-side. Thor was born with your Midgardian Ares – the ram. His letter began.

Mine Ours is one of Asgard’s constellations. Canavirna-hundr - the beast. 

He had included a drawing. You weren’t aware that he could draw, but it would later occur to you that he was thousands of years old, and so likely had mastered every art form to exist. A huge creature with sharp ears and the saddest eyes you had ever seen, outlined by the curve of twenty-two dots.

There was a wolf more beautiful than any other. A wolf with fur like seafoam and eyes as black as the darkest night. Hunters from every corner of the galaxy coveted her – but she was quick, too quick for even my father Odin to pursue. He chased her for three days and three nights by following the tracks left by her mate, Canavirna-hundr, a hulking beast too large to ever catch up. But love makes fools of even the most graceful creatures, and she slowed her pace.  

At dawn on the fourth day, when her mate finally fell in step, Odin struck. Blinded by guilt and fear for his beloved, Canavirna-hundr leapt ahead and let the arrow pierce his heart instead of hers. Moved as they were, the gods put him in the sky to watch over her 

The constellation pictured was your soulmark – yours with a capital Y, belonging to you and Loki. Twenty-two dots of varying sizes, the largest at the farthest point on the left.

This was my favourite of the constellations as a child. I fancied myself a hero, to one day be memorialized in the stars next to my brother. I wondered - what would be my legend? When generations referred to Loki, the constellation - would I be exalted for love? 

It doesn’t exist anymore – none of them do. Destroyed by Ragnarok. Like my friend Atlas, I carry a little piece of my planet everywhere I go.  

I’ll stop pretending. Maybe one day I won’t frighten you any longer. 

Yours, 

He didn’t sign his name. But then – he didn’t have to. You would know the impression of him anywhere.

[dominiquelucalover]

Center of Danger | Dominique Luca x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Your Tuesday plans are put on hold when you're caught in the middle of a bank robbery, but as if that didn't put a damper on your day, going into labor in the middle of it certainly did.

CW: fem!reader, pregnancy, labor, hostage situation, guns, death threats, death, blood, mild descriptions of violence, pre-established relationship. If any of these topics trigger you in any way, please do not read. Your wellbeing is so important.

A/N: I tried to make reader a behavioral analysis expert who works with S.W.A.T. but I don't know how well I incorporated that. ( not me trying to flex my Criminal Minds knowledge like a fucking nerd.) PS: I spent four straight hours writing this lol. and nother hour and a half proofreading and editing (and adding a whole 'nother fucking thing to the end of this jfc) (I'm having fun lol)

Your day had been going well. You went to one of your final doctors appointments before you were supposed to have the baby, you'd grabbed some of the last minute things on your baby list, and you were going over what you needed from the grocery store while you stood in line at the bank. It was one of those errands that you couldn't put off doing anymore, especially with the impending birth of your child, so it seemed easy enough to get out of the way today while you were already out and about. Unfortunately, a group of greedy, grubby-handed robbers decided to ruin those plans.

You couldn't lay on the ground like they wanted everyone to, which already irritated not only them but you too. The floor was uncomfortable as you sat against one of the desks while everyone else was forced to lay face down and not to move. It was a tense situation as the three robbers made the tellers fill their bags, one you wished would be over soon.

However, the robbers had already fucked up and got themselves stuck in the bank. A teller had sounded the silent alarm and in a fit of anger, one of the criminals shot the security officer dead. Another one freaked out because "no one was supposed to die" and seemed to be on the verge of tears, but it was hard to tell because they were all wearing plastic Halloween masks. This was turning out to be the worst bank robbery you had ever witnessed, not that you had ever actually witnessed a bank robbery but you had studied plenty.

"Shit, man! The cops are here!" one of the robbers all but growled. He turned his weapon on the tellers with a nasty glare from behind his ghoul mask. "Which one of you sounded the alarm, huh? Fucking idiots!"

He shot at the ceiling suddenly, causing people to scream. You jumped and held your belly protectively, taking a deep breath as you tried to stay calm. However, your blood pressure was already up and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. The baby was kicking, sensing your distress, and you rubbed your bump in an attempt to soothe them.

"Cool it!" another of the robbers chastised his buddy, seething with anger behind his devil mask. "You're gonna need those bullets. So chill the fuck out."

"I'll do as I damn-well please," the first one said, then walked away, seeming to look for another way out.

The freaked-out robber stayed out of the conversation, seeming more subservient to the other two. He just stood the to side, watching over the hostages like he'd been told to, hiding behind his clown mask. You knew from that if any of them were going to break first, it was him.

As things around you began to calm down, you leaned your head back on the desk and took even, deep breaths. Of course, the quiet couldn't last long.

A couple were whispering to each other a few feet away and as soon as the robber with the devil mask, who seemed to be the leader, caught wind of it, he stomped over and pointed his gun at the woman's head. "I said to keep quiet! You want me to blow her head off?"

"No, please! We'll be quiet!" the man begged.

"I should make sure you stay quiet for good," the leader said, teasing the trigger of his gun. The grin of his devil mask made the scene more unsettling.

At that moment, you felt a sharp pain in your belly and let out a heavy groan. All eyes turned to you and watched as you withered in your spot. You were caught between pain and confusion, hoping that you weren't going into labor. You weren't due for another three and a half weeks. Your baby couldn't come now, this was the worst-case scenario. Anywhere else but in the middle of a robbery would have been ideal.

The devil walked over to see what you were doing, letting out a frustrated groan. "Oh, for fuck's sake! Give me a break!"

You looked up at him as the contraction passed, irritated and not ready to give birth. You spat, "Sorry to ruin your parade!"

He pointed his gun at you but the clown ran over and pushed it down. "Dude, you can't shoot a pregnant lady!"

The leader looked at him, then walked away muttering under his breath about how this was going terribly and how the last thing he needed was a baby to mess it up further.

It was about that time one of the phones rang and he walked over to answer it, knowing it was the police outside. It was about time, but you thought that perhaps they needed a negotiator to show up, which was unfortunate for you. A few minutes earlier and you might not be in the early stages of labor right now.

"What do you want?" Devil asked brashly.

You couldn't hear who was on the other side of the call, sitting too far away. You watched closely, hoping your boyfriend was outside with his team. It would be the perfect fantasy if he came to your rescue; besides, they were the best S.W.A.T. team in LA. What were the chances that they weren't here?

The phone call only lasted about two minutes before the leader hung up having made no demands. He laughed, shaking his head. "They think I'm an idiot."

The ghoul came back into the room and grunted. "They've got the whole place surrounded! They probably have snipers ready to kill us if we walk outta here. What do we do?"

Devil thought for a moment, then gestured with his gun at the people laying on the floor. "Put them in front of the doors and windows. Use them as a shield. They won't shoot in here with hostages in the way and it'll give us time to think."

His accomplices nodded and started getting people up, guiding them with their guns to form a line around the center of the bank. The patrons followed orders dutifully and linked their arms together, their lives put further in danger by their captors.

The leader came over to you and grabbed your arm, but the clown came over and asked him what he was doing. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting her off her ass."

"She's pregnant, man," he said, his voice a little more confident than before. He didn't seem to like that you were there at all, but as soon as his bossy friend came near you, he jumped to your aid. "Just leave her alone."

"You questioning me?"

He seemed to think on his feet. "I'm just saying, if the cops know we got a pregnant lady in here, thye're gonna get more aggressive. They'll try harder to get in here. Think about it, man."

"Kid's got a point," Ghoul said, looking over. "She'll be our secret weapon."

Devil looked between them and shook his head, letting you go. "Fine, maybe you're right... this time. We'll see."

He walked away to make sure the wall of hostages was cooperating, looking out the glass doors and windows at the front of the bank to evaluate what his next move should be. He took slow, calculated steps, taunting the police and the hostages at the same time.

Another contraction hit you and you whimpered, holding your stomach and slightly curling up. The clown crouched down beside you, looking at you with wide eyes from behind his mask. He stuttered, "A-are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" you asked through clenched teeth. He looked down, almost ashamed for asking the question. You would feel bad if he wasn't hiding his identity and holding a large automatic gun on his back. Once the pain passed, you breathed out. "How old are you?"

"Doesn't matter," he answered.

"Sure it does. They called you kid," you told him, making him look up at you. "Means they don't respect you."

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head. He stood up and walked away, but looked back at you as he did. That was how you knew you did it. You planted that seed of doubt in his mind.

The next call came in not that long after, but Devil made one of the hostages answer the phone, a terrified older man who had been there to help his son open a bank account. He instructed the man on what to say, telling the officer on the other end that they wanted an armored car and a one way trip out of the country for the three of them, all within the next hour. It wasn't possible, you thought, which you were sure was what they were told before the hostage was made to hangup the phone with the promise that if their demands weren't met by that time, someone else was going to die.

The time seemed to pass sluggishly. You wouldn't have known it was going by at all were it not for the contractions picking up speed. You had read all your books about pregnancy and birth, so you knew that wasn't a great sign in this particular situation. Your labor seemed to be fast approaching, but you didn't want it to be. Were this in line with your birth plan, that would be ideal. However, a speedy birth was not on your agenda for the day.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock," Devil taunted as he walked the line of hostages again. He'd been pacing behind them to needlessly remind them of his presence. It was cruel and having to watch him was intense. "Five more minutes."

"What if they get us what we want?" Clown asked, looking at his friend.

The leader shook his head. "They won't get us what we want. They'll try to bribe us with less than what we asked for just to get us outside."

"So you're just gonna kill one?"

"Yup."

A woman in line cried out at hearing this and she was snapped at to shut up by the ghoul. He held a gun to her back and laughed at her terror as she tried to muffle her cries.

Clown watched, clutching his gun to his chest, before looking at Devil. "Wasn't killing the guard enough?"

"Not until we get out of here with the money and our lives," the leader answered, then shoved him. "Now shut up and do your job."

You watched as the 'kid' shook his head and walked away, listening to the devil without another question. Paying attention to everything else around you was the only thing keeping you from going insane from the pain. It was more persistent now and you felt the baby had moved lower. It was getting harder to keep your cool as all you wanted to do was yell and kick your feet at these guys who had forced you into early labor.

You were trying not to think about the time passing, watching Devil pace back and forth behind the line. He was looking at them, gun pointed at their backs. Then, suddenly, another sharp contraction shot through you and all you could do was scream as he shot a woman in the back.

She would have dropped to the floor were it not for the two people on either side of her whose arms were linked with hers. They were told to drop her as she cried and writhed. Then Devil went to stand over her, watching her squirm on the ground and bleed, before lifting his gun and shooting her in the head. Everything stopped and grew quiet except for your cries. They echoed off the high walls of the bank, violently reminding everyone there that life came with pain.

Sweat and tears slipped down your face as people were forced to listen to you until you quieted down. The contraction passed and you were slumped against the desk once more.

The devil turned to Clown and motioned toward you. "Go make sure she's alive."

"Okay," he said and walked over to you. He put his gun on his back and crouched beside you, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat from your forehead. "You're, uh, you're getting closer to, um, having the baby, aren't you?"

You nodded, keeping your eyes forward, watching the way Devil made two hostages move the woman's body closer to the door. They were going to use her as a block in front of the door incase S.W.A.T. came running in, which made you sick to your stomach. You'd seen a lot of malicious shit, but that was a new low.

The phone rang, but no one moved to answer it. Then the devil chuckled.

"Get her on her feet," he said, looking over at you and the 'kid.'

Clown puffed up his chest. "She can't possibly-"

Devil got angry. "Don't question me! Just do it!"

Clown looked at you apologetically and put an arm around your back and hoisted you up. You cried out as you felt the baby shift lower. It was hard to walk, awkward really. But he held you up and guided you to the phone as it rang. Just as you reached the desk, it stopped, and you wanted to scream but managed to hold it in. You knew they would call back. They had to.

The clown leant you against the desk and brought its accompanying chair over to you. He helped you sit in it as his buddies scolded him, but he didn't argue back or justify his actions then. Only when you were seated did he turn to them and bark back.

"You're making a pregnant lady do all this shit when she's about to have a goddamn baby! What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled.

Devil got in his face. "I'm the one calling the shots around here! You do as I say, and if I want that fat bitch to answer the damn phone, she will, or she and that baby won't-"

"Oh, so you're gonna kill a lady and her baby?"

"Wait a minute!" Ghoul interrupted, looking at the devil, "Who died and put you in charge?"

"I've been in charge, numbnuts!"

The argument would have continued on from there, but the phone rang. They all looked at your tired face and waited for you to comply with what Devil wanted. So, you did.

"Hello," you said.

The voice on the other end of the phone made you feel some relief as he said your name. It was Hondo. "Is that you?"

You didn't answer immediately, not wanting to put the robbers on edge or clue them in to anything.

He seemed to understand. "If you are who I think you are, say 'where's the car?' if you're not, say 'please help us.' Okay?"

"Where's the car?" you asked, eyes trained on the robbers. Devil nodded at you, seeming to like that you were apparently smart enough to understand the situation at hand - you got right to the point of things and had been paying attention. Little did he know...

"We're gonna get you out of there, okay? We're working on it," Hondo told you.

"Well work on it faster," you told him, wincing in pain. You held your belly with your free hand. You kept your mouth shut about being in labor, knowing the robbers didn't want that detail known to anyone outside. "They've already killed someone else."

"We know, we saw," he said, letting out a regretful sigh. "But our eyes can only see in through the windows. The camera system is down. How many people are left inside with you?"

You looked around the room, trying to count the number of hostages, but it was harder to concentrate on something like that. "I don't know."

"What did he say?" Devil asked.

"They want to know how many people are alive."

Ghoul huffed. "Why does he want to know?"

"I don't know," you groaned, feeling another contraction rearing its ugly head. You did know, but there was no way you could strategize what the right thing to say to them was at that moment. "They-they probably- ahh!"

Hondo said your name several times, keeping his voice even. "Talk to me, mama. What's going on in there?"

Devil came over and seethed at you, "Tell him to get us what we want or we're gonna kill another person. Then hang up."

You spoke through the pain. "Get them what they want-"

"Are you in labor?" Hondo asked, hearing the strain in your voice.

"Or they're going to kill again," you said. "Please, please hurry."

Ghoul took the phone from your hand shook, slamming it into the holder. He watched you as you grabbed the arms of the chair, digging your nails into the hard wood. You scraped it and he shook his head. "Pregnant people are weird," he mumbled.

He and the devil moved on, talking to each other about what to do next. They began to argue about it but it was short lived as they parted ways. Ghoul slammed his fist on a desk and stomped away to try again at finding a plan-b escape. Devil leaned on a desk out of view of the windows, near you, and waited.

Clown stayed with you and talked you through the contraction. His voice wavered with fear and nervousness, seemingly never been in a situation like this before, as far as pregnancy went at the very least. Once it passed, he wiped your forehead again. "What-what's going to happen if you give birth in here?"

You looked at him, unsure yourself. "Well, there will be a baby in here and we'll both need immediate medical attention. If at that point they know about that, S.W.A.T. might just do anything to get in here."

Now that Hondo knew you were in here, there was more pressure on him to get inside and ensure your safety. You knew he wasn't going to tell Luca that you were one of the hostages because it would cloud his judgement, damned be the third generation S.W.A.T. officer that he was. His girlfriend and unborn child were in the center of danger and he'd do anything to get you out of there.

Clown got you water and helped you drink it as you continued to wallow in pain. As you sat there, you knew the situation was dire. You could see out some of the windows, seeing S.W.A.T. officers gearing up. You knew that sooner or later, they were going to come inside. You also saw an armored car pulling up, but it was a great distance away from the doors.

Ghoul came back, a little bit of a skip in his step. "They got our car! Let's go!"

"Wait!" Devil said, standing from his position and walking up behind the hostages. He took a man from them by putting his arm around his neck and pointing his gun into his side. They slowly made their way to the windows so he could peer out. He seethed. "They're trying to lure us out."

When he got back to the safe zone, the devil scratched his head, clearly deep in thought. He knew they were in deep, and with your timely reminders about the impending birth of your child, their odds of getting out of here was getting slimmer and slimmer.

"Wait for them to call," he said, turning to his friends. "We tell them we're going to take a hostage with us to ensure our escape."

"Dude, they got the fucking car, why do we gotta wait?" Ghoul asked.

"Because as soon as we step anywhere near those windows, they're gonna gun us down," Devil said, shoving him. "This is why I'm in charge, because you don't think!"

"I think better than you!" the ghoul yelled. "It was my idea to come here, remember?"

"And look at where that got us! You could of picked any other bank, but it had to be this big fancy one in the middle of town!"

"The cameras are out! They can't see in here, dimwit!"

You were about to yell at them to shut up when the phone rang. Devil looked at you and nodded. As you picked up the phone, Ghoul tried to continue the argument, but the devil shoved him away and told him to be quiet.

"Hello," you said.

Hondo sighed with relief at hearing your voice. "Say 'what do you want?' if you're okay. Say anything else if not."

"What do you want?" you asked.

"Tell the brothers we have their car ready for them," he said, which peaked your interest. You looked at the robbers in front of you and it clicked. Their arguing and dynamics made sense now.

They were brothers.

"Your car is ready," you told them.

Ghoul leaned against the desk in front of you. "Tell him we want it closer!"

Devil shoved him away again. "And that we're taking a hostage with us, so if they shoot at us, they'll be killing the next innocent person."

You took a deep breath and nodded. "They want the car closer so that they can get in with a hostage."

Hondo grunted. "Of course they'd try that trick. Listen to me, okay, we're not gonna let that happen. But tell them that we have to make room to move the car, so it'll be a minute."

"Okay," you said and sighed, rubbing your belly. You were in the last stretch of contraction. You could just feel it. "They have to make room for the car to get closer, so it'll be a few minutes before you can leave."

Devil didn't say anything, only took the phone from you and hung it up. "Get ready to get out of here, boys. Make the hostages take our bags to the door."

Then he walked away.

Ghoul took control of that mini mission, bossing two of the men in line to move and hustle to get their bags full of money to the door. They dropped them off and promptly got back in line, seeing the robber's finger ever-present on the trigger of his gun.

You were leaning forward on the desk, head laying on your arms as you whined and tried to breath deeply. You tried to hold your legs closed, preventing the progression of labor in anyway you could. You cursed having worn a dress today. You tried to think about anything else but where you where in that moment and what was happening. You tried to put yourself at home, in your baby's nursery that you and Luca had spent the last few weeks putting together and decorating. It helped distract you for a few minutes until more yelling broke the illusion.

Looking up, you saw Devil and Ghoul arguing about which hostage to take with them, which was the stupidest thing you had ever seen. It made you angry as you sat there, in labor, having to listen to this. Devil wanted to take you but Ghoul wanted to take anyone else. You were at your breaking point.

However, Clown snubbed out your lit fuse. He came with more water and helped you sit up so he could bring the cup to your lips. You sipped it, thankful that he was the kindest of the brothers. From what you had observed, he had to be the baby of the three and didn't want to hurt anyone there. He was there to rob a bank, not kill anyone, and each time you were in pain, he came to your side. He took care of you as much as he knew how. Something inside of him was redeemable, you thought so at least.

"They're both idiots," you whispered to him.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah... I can't believe I agreed to do this. I should have never let them talk me into this."

You nodded. "Yeah, that's true."

He leaned against the desk, staying close to you as you both listened to the argument devolve, once more, into who is in charge. It was beginning to sound like they were a broken record, but as they continued the back and forth, you heard how similar their voices were, how similarly they spoke, and you could picture them as brothers more and more. It was in contrast to the 'kid', who seemed a little more mild mannered and quiet. He only spoke against the other two when he was passionate about whatever he was fighting them for, be it the lives of the people there or your wellbeing. It made you wonder how he was a part of this family.

Suddenly, everything came to a head.

"I told you to stop questioning me!" someone yelled, followed by a round of rapid pops from a gun.

You couldn't process anything for a moment, stomach tightening and making double over, leaning onto the desk again. You held your belly, screaming with the other scared people trapped with you. The moment passed quickly, but you couldn't look up.

"Bobby, what did you do?" Clown yelled.

The devil, Bobby, turned and criticized his kid brother. "Shut up! Don't say my name, you idiot!"

"But-"

"I said shut up!" he yelled and pointed the gun at him. "Now stop asking stupid questions or you're next."

You peeked up from your arm, seeing how far Devil had devolved. In the beginning, he was semi-organized (given how shittily the robbery was planned, there was at least some effort on his behalf), but the stress of the situation and his brother's mouth had finally snapped his last nerve.

Clown backed down and slowly sank to the ground beside your chair. Bobby began pacing again.

The phone range and you answered it.

"What's happening in there?" Hondo asked.

You could feel the devil's eyes on you. "You need to hurry."

"What happened?" he said again, fearing the worst.

You let out a breath. "Someone else is dead."

"Tell them we're going as fast as we can," he said.

You looked over at Bobby. "They're going as fast as they can. Please don't shoot anyone else."

"I'll shoot whoever I damn-well please," he said and took the phone from you, putting it to his ear. "You listen here, buddy. You don't tell me what to do, got it? Now, if that car isn't at the front door in five minutes, I'm killing everyone in here."

He slammed the phone into the holder before ripping it off of the desk and throwing it across the room. He stomped off, going back to his look out position from behind the line of people. He watched the doors impatiently, seemingly unbothered by the crying people before him. Their anguish brought him no joy, unlike his now-dead brother, as it was obvious that the people were merely pawns in his game. He didn't care about them whatsoever.

You laid your head down and whispered, "He's gonna kill you."

Clown made a worried noise in the back of his throat. "No-no he won't. He-he's my brother..."

"You blew his cover. Everyone here knows his name and it won't be hard to track down a Bobby in an armored car," you said, pausing to moan and shift your seated position. You couldn't hold your legs together anymore, knowing it was dangerous. It was a feeble attempt anyway. "He's already angry and you're the only one left brave enough to stand up to him."

He whined. "I-I'm really not."

"Yeah, you are," you told him, hoping to break through to him. "You've protected me from him this whole time. That took a lot of courage, I know it did."

"But... he's my brother... The only family I have left now," he said.

You looked at him, meeting his sad eyes past the mask. "Family wouldn't put you in this position."

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then looked away in contemplation. He didn't say anything for a moment, which felt like an eternity, and then he looked at you again. "What's your name?"

"Why does it matter now?" you asked.

"Because if I'm gonna die, I'd like to know the name of the lady I protected," he said.

You didn't understand what that meant, it could mean many things, and as you felt the pain getting worse, you couldn't think very well anyway. You told him your name between heavy breathes.

He gently wiped your forehead again, talking you through the pain. Then he took off his mask, revealing his face to you, and you were saddened to see how young he was. There was no doubt he was in his early twenties but he still had a baby face and the biggest eyes you'd ever seen a man have, giving him a deer in the headlights look.

"I'm Eric."

Then he stood up and moved away from you, walking over to another desk quietly. He moved out of your sight and you couldn't move much anymore, too tired to do much of anything as it were. Despite the situation, all you wanted to do was get this over with.

Then, there was a loud thud from where Eric had disappeared to.

Bobby turned around and marched over to you. "What the hell are you doing?"

You groaned, looking up at him. "Nothing."

He seethed again, "I've about had enough of you and you're whining."

"I'm about to push a watermelon out of me, what do you want from me?"

"I want you to shut u-" BANG!

He fell to the ground in front of you, his blood splattering on the desk. Looking over, Eric had his gun trained on his brother from behind the desk a few feet away, eerily still, like he was trained for this. It made your heart ache because your stomach was already twisted. What kind of life had this kid had that led him and his brothers to this?

As he walked over to you, he yelled at the other hostages, "Go! Get out of here! Go! Get out!" They listened without hesitance and ran screaming and crying for the door.

He crouched down beside his brother's body and took the gun off of him, sliding it across the floor. He then took his own gun and push it to follow. Then he turned to you, "Are you okay?"

You nodded. "More or less."

Eric couldn't say another word before S.W.A.T. came into the bank with guns at the ready. They aimed at him and he put his arms up, already on his knees. You screamed in pain and he turned to look at you, making Hondo yell at him to stay still, but he didn't seem to hear him. If he did, he didn't listen and reached out to you.

He took your hand and let you squeeze it as the pain made you sob.

You managed to cry out, "He's unarmed!"

The team got closer and saw the truth in your words. They pulled his hand from yours despite your tight grip and handcuffed him, getting him onto his feet. While Chris and Street patted him down, Luca and Hondo came to your side.

"Fucking hell, I could kill this guy for all this," Luca grunted, clearly angry. He took your hand into his.

You shook your head. "He's a hero, believe me."

"How is he-?" Hondo asked, but was cut off by your guttural scream.

Deacon shook his head as he watched. "We need to get her out of here. Now."

The paramedics came in with their gurneys and attended to the bodies on the floor, but by the time it was decerned that they were beyond saving, everyone was busy and there was no room for you anywhere. Luca picked you up and carried you outside in hopes of finding an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital, but they were all tending to the injured who had run outside earlier.

Tan opened up the back doors of Black Betty and called out to Luca, ushering the team over. Street helped get you inside while Tan and Chris ran to the side doors to get in. Once you were laying on the floor, Luca behind you and holding you close, everyone else piled in and closed everything up, turning on the lights and sirens.

You were screaming the whole time, crying as it became too much. Your body was telling you to push and that was all you could think about doing. Luca was trying to soothe you, telling you that you would be at the hospital soon and that it would be okay. But your baby had other ideas, they had waited long enough.

"The baby's coming!" you cried out.

"We know, we're gonna-"

"No! Now! The baby's coming right now!"

You let out another scream as you pushed. Deacon slide onto the floor and pulled your legs up onto the seats on either side of you, pushing your dress away. He ripped your underwear to get a look at how things were progressing and then looked up at Luca, Street, and Hondo, "She's right. She's crowning."

Hondo called out to the front, "Tan, pull over!"

Luca held your hands as you rested you head back against his abdomen, crying as your body guided you. Everything you'd read and come to understand was nothing compared to the way your body told you what to do.

Black Betty came to a stop on the side of the road, but it only took three more powerful pushes that the ended the pressure. You ached, but the pain was lessened dramatically. You opened your eyes to see Deacon picking up your baby, who was a little chubby for a newborn and rather long, aka big like their daddy.

Deacon gently held them and patted their back, getting them to cry and clear their airways. He smiled at them and happily said, "Welcome to the world, Baby Luca."

Street rummaged around for anything to wrap the baby in, only for Chris to pass a fresh shirt to him from the front. He thanked her and helped Deacon wrap your little angel up to keep warm before they were laid on your chest. You took her, Luca's arm coming under yours to support you both.

"It's a girl," Deacon told you and you smiled. He smiled too, knowing that joy and pride well. "Congratulations."

Tan put Black Betty in gear and let everyone know he was going to start driving again, as you and your daughter needed to be taken to the hospital. After that, no one said anything. They just let you and Luca have your moment with your daughter.

Luca couldn't even speak. He had spent the day tirelessly trying to save hostages from a bad situation that only got worse as the minutes passed by, only to learn from Hondo that you were one of them minutes before they stormed in there. He ran to you as soon as he could and wanted to burn the robbers to the ground with how angry he was because you were caught in the middle of their idiocy. Then, as soon as he saw you were in labor, he was scared, too. However, now, all that stress and anger and fear was erased. You were safe in his arms with your daughter. He had a daughter! He was nothing my happy.

Street inevitably ruined the precious moment, but lightened it at the same time as he broke the silence. "I can't believe you gave birth in Black Betty."

The team didn't react until you laughed, which let them know they could laugh too.

"I'm just glad it wasn't in the bank," you said, the ache still in your heart for the people who were lost and the kid brother who had saved you. You looked at Hondo as you remembered him. "I wanna be there for Eric. He really did save those of us that he could."

Hondo didn't question you, because you were tired and hormonal and he knew you knew what you were talking about. He just nodded and said, "I'll talk to the DA, but for now, you just worry about that cutiepie you got, okay?"

"Okay," you said.

When you got to the hospital, you were taken to a room immediately. Not only because you were wheeled in with a baby in your arms, but because you had a team of S.W.A.T. officers escorting you. Luca went back with you and ensured you and your baby daughter were okay.

Despite being three and a half weeks early, she was healthy. She would need to stay a few extra days for observation, but that was okay with you. Both you and Luca wanted the best for her, so you knew she might need a little extra watching over because of her early arrival and the stress you were under, and you needed to recover as well. It would work out, you were sure.

Once that was cleared up, Luca sat beside you with your daughter asleep in her basinet at your bedside. He watched her with nothing but love in his eyes. He'd only been talking about how excited he was for her to 'hurry up and get here' in the months leading up to this moment. He hadn't cared if she were a boy or a girl, as you'd left finding out to be a surprise at the birth, because he was going to love his kid no matter what. You knew he was going to be an amazing father.

You watched him, tired as all hell, but couldn't fall asleep. Even after the day you'd had, you laid awake on some pain killers with a soft smile on your lips. "I love you."

Luca turned to you and chuckled. "I love you, too." He reached out for your hand and squeezed it gently. "You are the most amazing woman I've ever met, you know that?"

"You only tell me that at least once a day," you laughed softly, careful not to wake your sleeping angel.

"Well, I mean it so much this time," he told you, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. "You're so strong and smart and brave. What you went through today was a lot and you powered through it like a champ. And you see the good in people even in situations when it's hard to see anything but bad."

"What can I say?" you asked, not really sure what there was to say. You just read the situation like it was. And it helped you and several other people get through it. "I'm just a woman."

"Nah, you're more than that," he said and leaned in closer, kissing your head. Your eyes closed and this time they were too heavy to lift back open. "You're Superwoman."

"If you say so," you mumbled. You then fell into a dreamless sleep, getting the much needed rest your deserved.

Lowkey, I'm now attached to the backstory I accidentally gave Bobby, Ghoul, and Eric, so here it is if anyone cares. Bobby, Ghoul - who's real name is Terry, and Eric were born in a less than ideal home. Raised by a worked to the bone mother and a father who had lengthy arrest record, they were doomed from the start. Bobby and Terry were closer in age to each other than either of them were to Eric, often getting into trouble and leaving him out. When they weren't getting suspended from school, they were pushing Eric around metaphorically and literally. They would often use Eric as a punching bag when they weren't getting into fights with each other. They mother wasn't around a lot as she worked multiple jobs to keep a roof over their heads. When she was around, she was frustrated and tired, often getting angry at them for little problems like leaving their shoes out for her to trip over and bigger issues like getting kicked out of school. Their father was in and out of jail for most of their lives, but when he was around, he taught them how to shoot, steal, and hot wire cars. Averse to these activities, Eric was once again the odd one out and often the target of his brothers' criticism. Their father often got drunk and ranted to his sons about his drawbacks in life, often blaming others. Due to this unstable environment, it was no wonder the brothers turned out the way they did. Bobby followed in their father's footsteps, often helping their old man with his criminal endeavors when he could. After their father's untimely death at the hands of a homeowner protecting himself after he broke into the house, Bobby was angry. He went on a bend of drinking and crime, ending him up in jail where he made friends. Once he was out, he started robbing houses and small business. Terry at least finished high school and got a job as a mechanic, which was stable enough for a while. He started to doing shotty work for cheap and got fired once his boss found out. He did a number of odd jobs after that. Eric was on the right track but couldn't catch a break. With a grant, he was able to start college but had to leave after his mother became ill. He was almost done with college when he dropped out to take care of her, but it was fruitless. He didn't blame his mom but rather the bad hand life had dealt him, but didn't grow very bitter. He got a shitty job and went about his life. However, their mother's death is what brought the brothers back together. It was several months after the funeral that Bobby came around with the idea to rob a bank. Terry was crashing on Eric's couch at the time and liked the idea, immediately liking the idea of free money and getting to go anywhere they wanted. The two oldest brothers talked Eric into it, telling him they could go live their dream lives and get out of the shambles they called a life. Plus, they were brothers, the only family he had left, was he really gonna left them do it alone?

And yeah, that's what I got for the bank robbing brothers. If it doesn't make any sense, I came up with all of this over the span of 8 hours and little to no sleep.

[sunny-knight]

What Kind Of Monster Was He?

A @forgettable-au fan (colored) animatic

MINOR BLOOD WARNING!

*Was he the kind to do too much, or not enough?

…OK, SO WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS-

I had planned to finish this into a full fledged animation, but a lot of the parts I did end up finishing just didnt live up to what I imagined…I waited for more motivation to happen, but it just didnt so HERES THE COLORED ANIMATIC CAUSE IM REALLLY HAPPY WITH WHAT I HAVE and ive sat on posting this for like a 2 weeks 😭 which is an eternity in my time

Im gonna post the unfinished “finished” part on my side account @o-sunny-day though! and probably have people yell at me cause it actually isnt that bad AND IT TOTALLY ISNT I just… art. You get it. ENOUGH YAPPING! ITS TIME TO YAP!

except not yet, MORE BACKGROUND INFO HUCDHUC- but its background info on explaining the lore…

The explaining is much less expansive than in Dear My Dear just because I didnt work on it long enough to think every bit of it through. This is just a clean, nicer looking, and colored version of the very first storyboard.

I usually think about and put more effort into the little stuff while making the FINISHED bits since ive had so much more time to think about that in all the preppin n sketching.

BUT I liked the explaining format I did for Dear My Dear so im sticking with it!

The main idea for this was to do a study of Wingdings’ character from what we’ve been given, mainly focusing in on the expectations he puts on himself because holy shit the lyrics for this works so stupidly well it makes me mad LOOK AT THIS???

its ridiculous. i love it. I didnt know Jack Stauber helped write Forgettable AU???? woww!!! ANYWHO thats the gist of it, not much context is needed past that. Onto the sillies!!!! (per usual excuse the shitty quality of the pngs idk why Tumblr does that-)

Did you know love? Will you rest in peace?

Wingdings and Sans holding hands as kids, before turning to a casket like appearance for adult WD. The flowers hes holding are pretty important too, Marigolds to represent grief, Lilys, new life, and Forget Me Nots for this lovely little line I found when looking up good flowers to use-

“a promise to always remember” ….stop that.

That actually also has a double meaning in this case too. 1, ofc the forgetting of Wingdings. But ALSO Wingdings forgetting something himself. Forgetting who he is. Almost like a Zuko ATLA situation.

Did you have a family?

Who knows where theyre parents are, but this is HAPPY TIME and we’re gonna assume they were so awesome and very kind but had to leave or went to a farm in the sky for whatever reason.

The colors here I had a lot of fun with. Their parents had warm colors but the boys have cold, still with warm accents. Its said they more or less raised each other being very independent as shown in the second part with them running out the door by themselves.

How was the view from the shelf? Did you ever believe in yourself?

Before, we started with the beginnings. The good things, the only thing Wingdings cares to even recall. Now we’re seeing his life really start to turn upside down- making first contact with The Player :D

He’s hesitant to reach out, but is intrigued, before getting a rushing revelation of his reality and how it isnt “real”

Rather than feeling crushing existential dread, he more feels pressured to be BETTER, to figure a solution, to do something. Thats what white represents here

WHAT KIND OF MILK WERE YOU?

We then switch to more examples of how Wingdings is taking this pressure (not well) The soft tones of yellow that were shown before, turn to way brighter, intensifying that feeling that he should be fine, he should be happy, drowning in success of being the Royal Scientist.

But he just desperately wants to just go back to a time of nice coldness.

The warm vs cold tones in this I had so much fun with, coldness is supposed to represent hostility usually, while warm is nice and happy. (same with Black and white. Scary, relieving,) But these points often contradict each other, its hard to tell what you’re feeling vs what you’re supposed to be feeling. Just like Wingdings!

WHAT KIND OF LIFE DID YOU LIVE THROUGH?

The white lab coats, the expectations, theyre on all of them. But Wingdings has essentially become his expectations.

He questions what life he wants to live, one being himself and alone (speaking in wingdings) or not himself and with company (speaking in a “normal” font) Still, he frames it in past tense as he believes theres no going back now, based on what he knows.

“One of the last happy moments they had together” stop that. (i cant find a link to when that was said but I know it was once, about them taking a photo together….)

DID YOUR LIFE RUN RICH WITH CALCIUM?

Calcium….bonesss :3 Hehehehdhehfhehehheheheh still dont know why he has holes in his hands so we’re movin on

DID THEY LAUGH AT YOU OR DID YOU LAUGH AT THEM?

Compared to the childhood Wingdings remembered, heres the sadder, bleaker, more realistic version. He always thought they were laughing at him but… maybe they werent.

DAIRY BELOVED. YOUR DAYS ARE GONE,

It doesnt matter now though. Because in the NOW, Wingdings has become consumed by his expectations of himself, seeing this has the “only option” to do the only thing that he feels will give his life meaning and purpose, establishing connection with THE PLAYER

But the grocery list goes on…

And yet life continues on without him, and his room is transformed into a more livable space now that someone is…living in it. Always hurts so much making the differences between Wingdings and Papyrus’ room. It feels like making something out of the man Wingdings COULD HAVE been. Because honestly thats just what Papyrus is,

Thank you to my bestie @fruitytrip for helping me with all of my art in general but especially the storyboarding on this :3 <3

[rafescherie]

STRESS RELIEF — RAFE CAMERON

synopsisᝰ.ᐟ stress-ridden rafe cameron can't seem to get himself off without your help

warningᝰ.ᐟ 18+ MDNI. details of male masturbation, stressed & pressed rafe (mean!rafe if u squint), unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, name-calling, degradation & praise (yummy), slight sadistic undertones, partially proofread

word countᝰ.ᐟ 1.9k

the spit within his palm felt warm against the cold air of his bedroom, salty sea breeze from off of the ocean a bit colder than normal. his window was open, helping cool off the sweat forming on his forehead as he desperately pumped his cock within his hand, groaning with each pass over.

no matter what he did, he couldn't make himself cum.

not with everything going on — those stupid fucking pogues, running around and ruining shit. and his father? the stress and mental turmoil ward put on the eldest cameron sibling was enough for anybody to go crazy. it was all he could think about, mind clouded with the endless noise of conflict and tension, when it should have been focusing on other things.

with an aggravated sigh, the waistband elastic of his pants slaps against his stomach with a hiss. he's shoving his feet into a pair of shoes out of frustration, truck keys lodged inside of his warm hands as he descends down the stairs.

he needed to clear his head — he needed a distraction.

rafe: be ready in five, need to clear my head

he was there in under that time, foot a bit too heavy on the pedal — but what was new with rafe? he was impulsive, his next moves hardly ever calculated. and maybe it was a bad idea he had shown up to your house when his cock angrily poked against the zipper of his pants, pre-cum definitely staining the inside of his boxers.

he watched as you walked down the dark driveway, tight top hugging the curves of your breasts so nicely, he practically had to pry his eyes off of you as you approached. the hum of the music within the truck vibrated the vehicle, playboi carti playlist on repeat in his expensive black truck.

you hopped into the passenger seat easily, plush black leather forming around the globes of your ass so perfectly it was like his truck seat was made specifically for you. your beautiful eyes landed on him, watching the way his knuckles threatened white flesh at how hard he was gripping the steering wheel — it was obvious he was in a mood.

"what's wrong, rafe?" you ask, voice soft but filled with concern. it wasn't uncommon for him to show up at your house like he had, hardly giving any warning, especially with everything going on. you seemed to be the only one who could calm him down.

he's hesitant to reply, sexual frustration clogging his brain. it's not like he could be upfront with you, i can't get myself off without thinking of all the shit going on. that was pathetic, and quite frankly, a bit too much information. instead, he shrugs, "my dad."

it seemed to always be his answer. you had known rafe for years, and had been around tannyhill enough times to recognize the immense amount of pressure ward put on his only son, taking out the frustration of his missing daughter on the only other person who craved his acceptance. their love was conditioned — an endless battle of rafe tiring himself out to the point of crashing out, and his father continuing to neglect him no matter what he did.

"again?" you question, eyes forced towards the road when he puts the vehicle into drive.

"yes, again," he sighed, his eyes squeezing shut in frustration. what a stupid fucking question, he thought. but it wasn’t, not really. he knew the truth — he was just wound too tight, desperate for any kind of release. it wasn’t fair to take his frustrations out on you, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. "fucker won’t give me a damn break."

you shrugged, glancing back at him. "you two are around each other all the time. it’s normal to get on each other’s nerves—"

"jesus christ," rafe snapped, cutting you off. his voice was sharp, almost biting. "i asked for a distraction. i don’t want to talk about it anymore, fuck."

"you know, you're being a real dick right now, rafe." you spit back, eyes rolling.

his vision snaps towards you, eyes filling with anger at the remark. he wasn't about to take shit from you now, too.

turning the wheel sharply down a backroad, you gasp at the sudden shift of the vehicle. it looks dark for miles down the dirt road, and your heart begins to thump within your chest, until he angrily shoves the gear of the vehicle into park. furrowed brows, you watch as he moves his body towards the passenger side of the large vehicle.

his hand cups the soft skin of your cheek, guiding your head toward him as he presses his lips forcefully against yours. startled for a moment, you quickly kiss him back. his tongue meets yours in a heated battle for dominance, the taste of whiskey lingering on his breath. with a soft moan, you yield, letting him explore the inside of your mouth the way he wanted, every movement deliberate and consuming.

he pulls away from the kiss, a pitiful pout planted on your now swollen pretty lips, panting for air. “push your fucking seat down.” he orders, voice gruff with aggression and irritation.

“what?” you question, confused.

“do it, s’my truck and i’ll leave y’out here alone if i want.”

it was an empty threat, really — he wouldn’t dare, and he knew that. the threat in his voice is enough to make you obey, just like the obedient girl you were for him.

your heart pounds against your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as rafe's sudden, impulsive movements send a wave of anticipation crashing over you. there's raw energy in the way he moves, unpredictable and intense, leaving you breathless. the tension in the air thickens with every gesture he makes, every glance he casts your way. you can't help but feel the pull of it, your pulse quickening, senses heightened as he tugged down the rigid material of your denim shorts. boy, you had sure gotten yourself in it, now.

the feeling of his calloused fingers rubbing the thin material covering your pussy had your head feeling nice and fuzzy. the fabric of your lace panties were soaked, within only a matter of seconds.

"since y'wanna be a brat, i'll fuckin show you better." he mutters, voice quieter than usual as he works to unbuckle his belt. "chose the wrong fucker to mouth off, sweetheart."

pushing your sticky underwear to the side, his fingers guide the head of his cock towards your entrance, teasingly rubbing it over your soaked folds, “you’re so pathetic, doll. this drenched, and all i did was be a bit mean t’ya?”

the pressure of his fat tip pushing into your tight cunt without warning sent harmonized groans filling the small stuffy space you shared in his truck. the feeling of your warm, velvety walls wrapping around him was enough to have him cum on the spot, head of his dick so sensitive from failed attempts at getting himself off the entire night. he couldn't stop there — he wouldn't stop there.

he fucks into you with so much force, hips smacking against your ass over and over and over again. it becomes clear to you just how stressed and frustrated he had been, thick cock taking it out on your poor cunt. still, your walls clenched and gushed around his length, only becoming more turned on by the mixed sounds of skin slapping, and the squelching of your pretty pussy.

thank god he had spent so much money on such a big truck, or else he wouldn't have be able to have your back pressed against his chest, big rough hand wrapped snugly around your throat. he drove his length in and out, the sound of your pathetic whimpers filled the truck, both pairs of eyes rolling from pleasure. the way your warm walls hugged his fat cock even despite the rough snapping of his hips was driving the orgasm he had been chasing for hours closer to its arrival.

"look at you," he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear as he speaks, warm breath sending goosebumps down your skin, "taking my cock so well. good little slut, huh? my perfect little whore."

he's so self serving, hardly putting in an effort to help you cum. he was such an asshole sometimes, thinking with his cock more than his head. his mind was set on one thing — his perfect dark blue eyes on the prize. not that you minded, you were willing to be rafe's cock sleeve whenever he needed it, if it meant feeling him inside of you. such a pathetic little whore, it was almost comical.

"gonna pump you full of my cum, jus'cause i can." he groans, the noise coming deep from within his chest as his hips fail to stutter, pounding relentlessly against your puffy cunt. "you're gonna take it too, like a good bitch, isn't that right?"

the sound of your whimpers and whines isn't an answer enough for him, your brain too fuzzy and fucked-out to form a coherent sentence — all you could think about was the way his spongy tip poked at that gummy spot inside of you. his hips halt suddenly, eliciting a whiny groan from your pretty plump lips.

"rafe..." you cry out, the knot within your stomach fading the longer he refused to move.

"the fuck did i just ask you?" he hissed, hand finding your face as he pushed your flustered cheeks forward, before delivering a smack against the flushed skin of your face. "come on, don't disappoint me now. what happened to that attitude, pretty girl?"

"fuck," you groan out, cunt clenching achingly around his length, lodged so deeply within you that you swore you could felt it grazing your cervix, "i'll take it, daddy. need you to fuck me again so bad, m'gonna let you cum in me till you're satisfied."

and his hips continued, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your sensitive skin, right below your exposed shoulder. "'atta girl, that's what i like to hear."

it was becoming too much, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge, your body responding instinctively to him. you tried to focus—tried to ground yourself in the way he felt moving inside you—but it was useless. your thoughts were a haze, melting into nothing as he kept control effortlessly, his rhythm unrelenting. he had you exactly where he wanted you, utterly undone and entirely his, every gasp and whimper proof of how thoroughly he’d taken you apart.

"shit, baby," he cursed, thumb creeping it's way into your mouth as you suckled on the digit almost gratefully. "you cock-hungry or what?"

you moan out around his thumb, pools of saliva beginning to fall from off of your own tongue, drenching your chin in spit. "gonna cum, rafe." you mewled.

"nah," a twisted grin curled his lips, "been needing this since i picked you up, don't ruin this shit for me."

he could be so cruel, sometimes. this was so obviously about him, how stupid of you to think otherwise. this was about him, not you. his thrusts turn lazy, before he's spilling his thick creamy seed inside of you. your poor cunt twitched at the feeling, your own orgasm sending your walls clenching around his slick cock at the feeling of his nut shooting inside of you, legs practically trembling as he held your weight against his broad chest.

he shifts back into the driver's seat, the sound of playboi carti's music filling you ears again after you had come down from your high. he buckles his belt and fixes his shirt, looking over at you with the proudest, most smug expression you had ever seen.

"give you a ride home, least i can do for fuckin' the shit outta ya."

[astrxsee]

I absolutely loved "price bringing the boys to his country home for the holidays," RAHHHHH, thank you for sharing your visions 😁 also re: your tags, I Will be getting you started on how soap talks SO FREAKING DIRTY About Price's pride and joy - - lord -- anyway, love for the New Year!

<3 -@horny-for-tf141

ilysm this is my first ask ever eeeeee

also this is part 2 to this

no bc simon wont shut up about you. johnny would hear about every interaction between the two of you that day. the scot eating up every sweet word that falls out of the larger man’s mouth.

“i could just smell her ‘air, took everythin’ in me not to grab her right there.”

soap would nod like an eager puppy, probably holding back something borderline feral.

“yeah, l.t., those eyes, they just do something for ya. don’t they?”

he’d say to ghost, pushing him to say more. he’d try and miserably fail to hide the growing tent in his pants as his superior kept talking. soap couldn’t help but to notice the tension in simon’s body and the way his hands would ball into fists as he kept talking.

“now what was she thinking putting on that slutty little dress on new year’s eve. god i wanted to rip that little number in half. our little birdie should know that she’s all mine.”

simon would say, his eyes peering over to johnny.

“aye, l.t., poor lass doesn’t know what’s good for her is all. show her what she needs. cap’ can’t keep her here forever.” the scot speaks up, the light from the warm fire your father made earlier flickering over his face.

-

AND OMG don’t even get me started on how they’d treat you in person like…

just imagine it’s christmas eve and your father is throwing a party for his team and a couple of his friends. simon can’t keep his eyes off you the entire night, and you know it.

you’d eventually drag him out to the porch for a smoke, him grumbling in opposition while you sweetly bat your eyelashes at him. of course he followed you like a dog, he’d follow you anywhere.

imagine cuddling into his side complaining that it’s ‘too cold’ and him putting his arm over your shoulders and pulling you in.

“why can’t you stop looking at me, simon?” you asked innocently, your eyes looking up at him. you knew the exact answer but this was just too fun.

he lets out a long groan, his hand running over his masked face.

“don’t do this to me, princess.” he practically begs you. his eyes filled with a feeling you can’t quite place.

then imagine you starting to tease him more as you trace cute patterns into the fabric of his stupid christmas sweater. his breathing becoming labored as he leans his head back, his eyes shutting. my man is fighting for his life

“please, lovie, you don’t know what you do to me.” he grits his teeth as his hands travel down to your hips. his large hand taking up so much space, squeezing onto you like you’d disappear.

“i’m sorry, si. i just can’t help it when you’re exactly what i want.”

you think it’s the doe eyes and the small kiss you pressed to his neck that gets you into the next situation.

in a split second, he had you pressed up against the siding of your father’s his captain’s house. his large arms caging you in between him and the wall. you could hear low growls coming from his throat. one of his large hands comes to rest on your hip as he buries his nose in your neck.

“you haven’t left my mind since i got here, dove. you’ve grown up so much since the last time i saw you, i just can’t help myself.”

he inhales sharply, breathing in your scent. he trails feather light kisses along your jawbone, almost like you’d break at any sort of pressure.

“you’ve been mine and you’ve always known it. just had to let you figure it out for yourself, princess.”

now don’t imagine johnny watching from inside, chubbing up at the sight of his lieutenant devouring price’s lovely, innocent little daughter. maybe ghost would let him watch when he takes her virginity

[rainix13]

Eyes Don't Lie

masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x ExShieldAgent!Reader

description: Natasha gets sent on a mission to stop R one way or another but things go another way

Words: ~3k

Genre: fluff, angst (?)

Warnings: mention of suicide and death, violence (more or less), bad english (I wrote this at 3am)

Happy New Year

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

Agent Romanoff stands in Director Fury's office, in front of them a big package.

Inside were two dead Shield Agents and a note.

Shield never should've started making deals with criminals. Their blood is on your hands Director. - ℛ

"Looks like her handwriting."

"Find her. I don't care if she's alive when you come back but wherever she goes she leaves dead people and that needs to stop."

"Are we sure it's her? Clint and I were the only ones to ever call her Raven. It's not exactly logical why she should use this as inital for a message" The assassin asked reluctantly.

"Is your personal connection gonna be a problem, Agent Romanoff?" The Director asks sternly but she shakes her head. "Of course not, Director"

✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩

You just arrived at the gala in Rome and got yourself a drink, looking around to spot your target.

It doesn't take long for you to find him. Red velvet suit, girls and women around him as if he'd give out smoothies for free.

You go to the bar and order yourself a drink when your eyes catch something else. Better someone. "Your drink" the bartender pulls your gaze away when he hands you your espresso martini. Slowly you look back to where your view was fixated on seconds before. But of course she was nowhere to be seen.

When you can't spot her anywhere else you shake your head smiling to yourself "Always a dance with you"

With that you put your glass down and make your way to the ladies room. But before you get there a hand grabs your arm, holding you back.

"I knew I wasn't hallucinating, when I saw you there, red" You turn around with a mischievous smile. The navy blue dress hugged her figure perfectly but was just loose enough that you knew she hid at least a few knives under it. Her red hair was longer than last time you've seen her and complimented her green piercing eyes. When your eyes meet, for a short moment everything stops. "You need to come with me" Natasha says in a firm tone. It sounded a bit pressured. Unnatural. But you know better than to trust on anything you hear from her. Not when her eyes say so much more. Ever had. That never ending green, that once hold so much affection for you.

You were good friends for quite a while. She saved your ass a few times and the other way around. When Clint was away she'd seek shelter in your room. Your friendship always held a flirtatious undertone but nothing either of you ever acted on.

But when Clint died everything fell apart. She fell apart. And you saved her. Held her when she cried, stopped her when she buried herself and her emotions in missions, calmed her down when she woke up from another nightmare.

It took months until Natasha slowly became herself again but you were there, waiting patiently until she took another step to build herself up again.

In that time both your teasing flirts turned into soft affection but still neither acted on it.

And then you left, leaving a trace of dead people behind you. Initially you planned to fake your own death. You'd have at least a few months to reorganize yourself and your situation until Shield would be on your heels again. But when you had the chance you couldn't do it. Hating Shield all you wanted, you couldn't let Natasha believe that another person close to her died in action. So she was the reason you made your life a lot harder. The day you left the Shield base for a last time you wrote a note, dropping it off at her room at the compound.

It's not your fault. Stay strong and kind

- your Raven

It was a nickname you earned in one of your first missions with the redhead. She had false intel and on a weapons dealer and got herself into a rather difficult situationship but wasn't able to communicate with Shield. Your mission was to hunt her down and get her out of there before they found out who she really was. And somehow you managed to do just that. You had barley any hints but found her in time and got her out. When you were on your way back in the Quinjet the Black Widow smirked at you "Good job, Raven"

You smiled at the compliment coming from THE Black Widow "Ravens?"

In response she shrugged "Yeah. Exceptionally great hunters."

"You know that that's not actually possible" you sigh, turning away but she hardened her grip around your arm. "It wasn't a request" she says lowley but now an evenly dangerous smirk plasters your face. "I'd be careful on how I act if I were you, Red. We wouldn't want to start a massacre" You subtly gesture around you, her eyes following yours. Across the room were several people staring directly at her. "Four dancing, two at the bar and another two talking to other guests. Every one of them at least as armed as you are, my beautiful assassin."

Natasha shakes her head faintly blushing at the given nickname. "You and I both know that they wouldn't be a match for the two of us. You don't have to work for them. Come back with me. Please." She whispers, almost pleading you'd take that chance. How much truth behind that pleading tone was, isn't something you're willing to bet on.

A sad smile returns to your face "I- They don't force me to do anything. They more or less work for me They're here to protect me. You make a wrong move and I couldn't even stop them from killing you on the spot."

She closes her eyes in disbelief "You were right. It's always a dance with you"

With that she pulls you on the dance floor, finding the rhythm to the slow waltz. "Why? Why are you doing this?" Her one hand on your hip, the other holding your own. "'Cause Shield changed. I was never content with making deals with criminals just because they could contain worse criminals. Just because they're less bad I won't accept that we let them do horrible things. They're destroying lives and families too. And some of those bastards even became Shield Agents. They run their cartels and mobs while getting paid by Shield." You didn't plan on sharing that much on the spot but Natasha was always special to you. Your weakness, the one thing that could make you a liability when you're not working with her. With every word you spoke the frown on the older woman's face gets deeper. "That's not true. I know that there are two or three affiliates who aren't completely legal and innocent but Shield would never-" You interrupt her, your gaze hardening. "Yes they would. You don't even need to believe me I can show you the files. I found them by accident, copied them and ran" "They're fake" Natasha spits, a mix of anger and confusion lacing her tone but you just pull her from the dance floor towards the ladies room.

"See for yourself" You say handing her your phone before you push her into a stall, blocking it from the outside. "Y/N, let me out! Now." In that moment another woman enters just in time to hear her say "I swear I'm gonna kill you here and now if you don't let me out right now"

The woman who entered locks eyes with you "Any problems? If she makes trouble-" You shake your head. "I can handle her. Make sure Antonio doesn't leave, we need him. I just need to get this here over with first" The woman in front of you nod, giving the new orders out to everyone else before she leaves. "You know you can't handle me. Not in a fight anyway" The mix of angry playfulness and stating mere facts undeniable. "Did you read the files?" You ask, hoping she wouldn't notice the slight tremble in your own voice. With some hesitation the redhead answers "Yeah. I- The last file..." she trails off not wanting to say it out loud. The last file was the one that made something inside you snap when you read it first. It was about the agent who was Clint's partner on the mission he died in. Throughout that mission their target came in contact with the drug cartel this 'agent' was running. He sabotaged Clint's intercom so he wouldn't take down his cartel. His plan was that Clint noticed the broken intercom and just wouldn't go. But Clint noticed it too late and by then he was so deep in, he didn't manage to get out. That agent was responsible for Clint's death. "An accident. That's how Fury described it in the final report." You say bitterly and open the door. The redhead steps out, tears threatening to fall from her eyes but you avoid her gaze as you continue. "That's why I'm here today. It took me the last seven months to bring down other, smaller organizations to finally get some intel on him."

"You could have told me" Natasha argues quietly but you shake once again your head.

She takes your hand again, leading you back to the dance floor. You return to the position you were in previously, her free hand on your waist, yours on her shoulder.

For a few minutes you just dance until you break the comfortable silence.

"Shield is your life. I didn't want to take that from you"

"But it was because of Clint. You know that. You pieced back together what was left of me after...after he died. You should've told me."

You sigh and can't resist to lay your head on her shoulder, breathing in her comforting scent. "You don't understand. I...I never meant for you to find out. I wanted to avenge him and i don't know. Probably chase down the loose ends that were left after that."

"If I shouldn't notice, leaving a trail of bodies isn't exactly elegant. You probably just should've - I don't know - fake your death or something. Then we wouldn't have been on you from the first second on" her soft teasing smirk playing around her lips when you look up but you don't send one back. Instead you laugh humorless and finally meet her eyes. "You think I'm that stupid? To not consider that option? I should be insulted. I had a whole plan. A fake scenario mission. Timed perfectly, so you'd be away on a mission and couldn't jump in to save me. I even went on that mission. Told the other agent to stay back in the jet. It was perfect"

"What went wrong?" she pushes, noticing the sudden change in your demeanor.

You close your eyes and bury your face deeper in her shoulder, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Human error" you whisper so she can barely hear it but she did. "I stood there. On a cliff. I had a hologram mission running - stole a few training bots and programmed them to act like the enemies. The last bot should've run to me near the cliff. We both know these bots aren't a real match but I would've faked an intense fight, some struggle and then he would've pushed me off the cliff. But last second I just shot him. I thought about jumping. Correcting the mistake I just did by a tragic unforseen suicide. Of course my plan wasn't fool proof. The possibility to die from the fall or jump was about twenty percent. But that wasn't the problem." You pause, remembering the situation. You stood there, already balancing on the edge. Just one step.

"What was the problem?" Natasha brings you back to the present. You let yourself sink against her even more, inhaling her vanilla scent while you mentally prepare to escape the upcoming awkwardness.

"Y/N?" she pulls you out of your thoughts "It was you" you reply carefully "I'm aware that - for you - what we had probably wasn't as intense and personal as your relationship to Clint was but  I still couldn't bear the thought of loading another death on you. So I shot at the bot. And didn't jump. You didn't do anything wrong and you didn't deserve to have to work through that kind of grief again. So instead I just ran. Because of you"

When she doesn't reply immediately you pull away and turn to go but before you get far, she once again gets a hold of you and pulls you back. And for the first time this evening you can see it. The internal battle she fights. How her cold professionalism flickers and reveals something else. Something warmer.

"What did we mean to you?" she asks.

A painful smile crosses your face when you find your voice again "You don't wanna know that. Especially not since you're here to either bring me back to Fury or kill me."

"What if I weren't here for that?" her green eyes pleading for an answer.

Just when you open your mouth to answer one of your people comes up again "You can speak, Chase. She's... she's alright" You reassure him. "Our target is going to leave soon." You nod and turn to Natasha. "Twenty minutes. Give me twenty minutes and I'll do anything you want. I'll let you kill me. I'll let you drag me back to prison. I promise."

With that you slip into the crowd, looking for Antonio.

When you find him you walk up to him, greeting him in your best french accent "Antonio, my hero"

The blonde turned to you, a huge confident smile on his lips. "And who are you, mi amore?"

From then it was almost too easy. You asked all the love drunken questions getting all the self-centered, personal answers you wanted. Internally you rolled your eyes every time he began a new sentence but the more you knew about him and his life, the more you could piece into what you knew about his father.

"And who do you owe such beauty and greatness to? You must have great genetics?" You hope to direct the conversation to his father and of course it works. "Most of this is coming from my own hard work, mir amore. But of course you're right, a great painting needs a good canvas." You internally cringe at the reference. Now you'd never be able to look at a canvas the same. "That canvas was provided by my dear father, Jovanno Conti. We can visit him if you spend the weekend with me at mia casa. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to meet such a pretty little woman like you." He lays his arm around your waist and it takes all your self control not to push him away but you stay still. "Oh, where is your casa, Antonio?" For some reason especially self-centered rich men absolutely love hearing their own name at the end of every sentence. "In Bologna, you ever been there?" You shake your head. That was everything you needed. But until you could finally excuse yourself to 'use the bathroom' you had to endure his talking five long more minutes.

When you could finally go you immediately find Natasha again and go to her. "I got everything, we're ready to go." Chase, who stands right behind the redhead nod and gives the others a sign.

Without another word you lead Natasha to the car that waited for you.

Inside you sigh "I won't fight you. If you kill me let me write down the intel I got so you can avenge Clint. If you want to put me behind bars let me blow that bastard up first."

"Why? So your people kill me?" Natasha asks for what feels like the thousandth time this evening. A small smile escapes you as the two cars behind you blow up. All eight people gone. "You out of all people should know that the maximum of 'team' I work with is two"

Natasha's face still holds confusion so you continue. "I don't have people. They were what was left from the smaller organizations I took down. They convinced me to let them work for me. All of them already planned my death, I was just a little faster with planning theirs. It's just you and me. And that legally paid, innocent chauffeur in front"

"Then why won't you fight me? I mean i-if you're right - think that you're right" Natasha corrects herself "then why would you give that up?"

"You really don't understand it, do you, Natasha? I give up for the same reason I ran instead of faking my death. I give up because it's you." A single tear escapes your eyes "It's always you." Your voice cracks.

The final facade of professionalism the redhead held up slipped away, leaving you confronted with the raw and deep affection in her eyes.

"Then let me leave Shield behind and go with you. Please Y/N." You took a shaky breath before blinking some tears away.

"I'm not worth everything else you have left in your life. It'd be wasted" you say bitterly, with a self-disgusted fake smile on your lips.

"No, it's not" Nat argues in a for her unusually soft tone but you shake your head "Yes, it is"

This time she contradicts with more pressure. Her determination clear, though her voice still soft and caring.

"Not if it's you" after a short pause she adds "not for me"

And before she can stop herself she closes the last bit of distance between you. Your lips melt against hers and you just let it happen. Your never stopping  salty tears mixing with the sweetness of her lips. You never wanted this moment to be over. After waiting so long to do this she finally did it and you are falling apart for her. But for now you don't even bother, your lips fit so perfectly, her strong arms pulling you on her lap. You only broke away because both of you desperately needed some air.

She holds you close enough you can breathe in her scent and yet her hold on you isn't tight. Her hands only loosely grabbing on to you, as if she put too much pressure on, you might break under them. As if your physical appearance was as fragile as you look right now. So vulnerable and tired. So lost.

Your teary eyes make your vision blurry but Natasha's hands move up to your cheeks, wiping them gently away.

"I missed you so much, my little raven" The older woman whispered, her own voice thick with emotions. "I missed you too."

Both your eyes glowing, promising things neither of you could ever put into words.

[sams-butt-dem0n]

love the gang breaking up with reader hcs!! could we get hcs of them getting back together though😔

A/N: Hey guyssss! So sorry that i haven't posted in a while, I was enjoying some time off before the dreaded work ethic takes over haha. I have had SO MANY people ask this (by that I mean like 5) but that's a LOT fort me. I love this idea so i hope you like my writing of it :)

---

DARRY would take such a long time to realise that he regrets breaking up with you purely because he is such a busy man that he barely has any time to think about something other than work work work. He wouldn't know where to begin, what to say, when he was gonna have the time to even speak to you properly.

Luckily for him, you just so happened to be passing by the store he works in on weekends and he caught a glance of your figure walking past.

"Y/n!" He shouts, catching your attention. You roll your eyes as soon as you see him.

"What, Darry?" You say, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, huh?"

"Look, y/n, please can I just talk to you," he says. "Give me five minutes."

"Five minutes. Max."

He takes a deep breath, looks down at his feet, and begins. "Look, y/n, I've been a real dickhead."

You nod. "Good start."

"I just want you to know that I never meant anything that I said to you. I was going through a lot of stress, you know how I get. I'm so beyond sorry. What is it gonna take for you to have me back?"

You chuckle and look up into his eyes, those eyes you had missed so much. "Oh, Darry," you say. "You don't need to beg for me back. I'll always be yours."

You pull him into a kiss, your arms around his neck and his around your waist.

"I love you."

SODAPOP would be running back to you the literal next day. He would sleep on what he had said and accused you of and immediately regret it in the morning. He would race out of bed, throw a comb through his hair and put whatever shoes he could pick up first on his feet before sprinting to your place.

He would bang at your window, most probably waking you up as it was about 8am on a Sunday and there was no way in hell you'd be up before 10.

"Soda? What the hell are you doing here?" You ask, anger layered in your voice.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he says, tears rolling down his face. It killed you to see him like this. "Please forgive me. I know what I did was wrong and I'm so sorry that i fucked things up but please baby I need you to realise that I was just beating myself up for no reason. I would never think of you as a cheater I just-"

You needed to cut off his rambling. Soda, stop. Just get in here before you freeze to death."

PONYBOY doesn't even feel any form of regret until a good couple of moths later, the pressure of school had worn off and he was exposed to the harsh reality of what he had done. Of course, it's typical of a man to only realise what they have lost months too late but it was worth a shot. Within an hour, Ponyboy was stood at your door with a bunch of flowers, a personalised poem he had written just for you, and all of your favourite chocolates.

"Ponyboy, what are you-"

He cuts you off. "Y/n please don't say anything until I'm done. If you're gonna kick me off your porch, please just wait until I'm finished."

You nod and he begins to read out his poem, causing tears to gather in your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Just like they had been doing for the past 73 days. He hands you a bunch of your favourite flowers halfway through his speech and continues, capturing your heart in a moment you shall never forget. How could you not forgive him after this?

DALLAS would take forever to even think of apologising to you and that's purely because of his bad boy ego he has going on. Like, what do you mean apologise? Do you know who he is? However, after about four months, Dallas finds a picture of the two of you from when you were together. You were sat beside him at the drive in, your legs laid over his and you had the largest beaming smile he had ever seen. God, he missed your smile. It was that moment where he realised he had thrown everything away.

And that's how you ended up in this moment, a beaten up and bloody Dallas Winston stood at your doorstep, begging for you to forgive him.

"please, y/n, I need you back," he says, spitting blood from between his lips. "I need you to say that everything is okay."

You weren't going to give in. Not until he said it.

"Please," he says, looking at you with such desperation in his eyes. Those eyes you had come to love endlessly.

He needed to say it. He still hadn't said it. Please, say it, Dallas, you thought.

"I'm sorry."

Without hesitation, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips against his; his arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close. He had finally got you back.

JOHNNY would be exactly like Sodapop, realising he made a huge mistake immediately after he made it. However, due to his home life and lack of confidence in any scenario, Johnny would have no clue how to apologise or even approach you. Because of this, he asks Dallas, his best buddy, for help. Why on Earth you would ask Dallas Winston for relationship advice is anyone's guess, but he did it either way.

Surprisingly enough, Johnny's effort was very much appreciated by Dallas and he genuinely helped him develop a plan that wasn't completely offensive. Johnny obviously recognised and cut out the parts that were. And so, he knocked at your bedroom window after climbing up the gutter, and you welcomed him in, your eyes still sore from all of the crying you had done.

"Johnny? Why are you here?" You ask, sitting him down on your bed and pacing around your room, not knowing how to feel about the situation. Relieved? Happy? Angry?

"I missed you," he says. "and I'm sorry."

STEVE would spend weeks upon weeks mulling over the fact that he had not only ended things with you, but ended them over the phone. He didn't get to hug you one last time. He didn't get to kiss you goodbye. He didn't even see your face when he had told you that it was over. He didn't have to see the hurt - he heard it. He could hear your heart sink to your stomach; he could hear the tears spill down your cheeks, your sweet rosy cheeks; he could feel the anger running through your blood. He hated himself for it. So much so that he was pushing everyone away as punishment to himself, even Soda.

Fortunately, Soda had had enough of Steve being so depressed about what he had done that he went to fetch you himself. You were minding your own business in your bedroom when your mother came to tell you that someone was at the door for you. Expecting it to be one of your girlfriends, you ran to the door to greet her but when you were faced with Sodapop Curtis, your smile dropped.

"Oh, hey Soda," you say, coldly.

"Y/n, I know you want nothing to do with Steve anymore but-"

"No." You say. "I don't care what you have to say. That asshole deserves whatever is coming to him."

"Pleaser, y/n." Soda begs. "Just talk to him for five minutes."

And that's how you ended up sat on the Curtis's couch, alone in the living room with none other than Steve Randle. Obviously, all of the boys were listening at the door.

"Y/n, I've been such a fool," Steve begins, making you chuckle.

"You can say that again."

"I've missed you so much," he admits. "And I am so sorry for what I did to you. I know you can't possibly forgive me straight away but I'm begging you - give me one month to prove myself to you. Just one month, that's all I ask."

You sigh, look down at your hands and then back up at him. "Fine. One month."

You knew whatever he had planned was going to bring you right back. And that is why you said yes.

TWOBIT would win you back almost instantly. He was just the kind of person that you couldn't stay mad at. No matter how badly he had hurt you, the second he knocked on your car window at the drive-in, you knew you were screwed.

"I've noticed you avoiding me, you know?" He says, cocking his head to the side, looking around your car to see you're alone.

"Well done, Columbo," you say. "Do you want a gold star?"

He nods. "Yeah, that would actually be pretty beneficial."

You hated him. (You really didn't).

"Are you gonna let me in or what?" He asks. "I hope you know I'm not gonna leave until you let me in."

You looked at him in disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

He gives you a look as if to say 'Did you really just ask me that?'. He sighs. "Please just let me in."

You unlock the door and allow him to sit in the passenger seat beside you. You had never heard a silence so deafening.

"I'm sorry," he says. "You that I'm sorry."

It's true, you did know, because every time you saw him on the streets he would look at you with his pleading, begging eyes that you love so much.

"I know," you reply. "But how do I know you won't hurt me again."

I promise you with every inch of my being that I will never fuck you over," he says, grabbing your hand and looking into your eyes. "Please."

[yanderes-galore]

Hi, do you think you could write a concept for Legoshi fighting Riz for a reader that's a carnivore? Let's say that reader is a member of the drama club and is a friend to both Legoshi and Riz, but they don't know the truth about Tem's murder. Legoshi wants to protect his darling from Riz while the bear wants to, i don't know, do the same thing he did to Tem in name of their "friendship"? The thing that i like the most about your versus concepts are the multiple endings. If it's not a problem, could you add one for Legoshi and one for Riz?

Ooo! A multiple endings fic :) Been a while since I've done that, so let me try it out ^^ I never got past season 2, so Legoshi's ending is HC.

Yandere! Legoshi vs Riz

(Carnivore! Darling)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder, Consumption of another person, Kidnapping, Gore, Forced/Dubious companionship/relationship.

One thing I like about this request is the fact that you are a carnivore.

It puts you on somewhat equal footing with the other two.

Although, these two have eaten meat, while you most likely haven't.

You have met these two at the drama club when school was just starting for the year.

While you are aware of Tem's death, you aren't actively looking into it.

You just know a rogue carnivore snapped and mauled Tem, as a result it's been rather difficult to communicate with the herbivores in your class at times.

Which, ironically, makes you more drawn to Legoshi and Riz.

Legoshi is definitely the one protective of you while Riz... well, Riz is complicated.

Riz claims he's protective of you and wants to make sure you aren't hurt, but in reality he's just possessive.

Riz is possessive and delusional to the point of harming and eating those he cares about.

I feel the obsession for both of them is subtle for the events of season 1, then escalate around season 2.

This would be because Riz doesn't feel threatened until Legoshi goes looking into Tem's murder.

Legoshi was already close to you beforehand.

You often tried to help him through his troubles, even when he tried to hide them.

You care about him and were genuinely worried when he attacked the Shishigumi to save a rabbit.

You've always been supportive, plus maybe the Shishigumi incident increases his protective behavior.

Sure, you're a carnivore, but it still gives him the fear that someone will harm you.

Carnivores aren't invincible, after all.

You could still be attacked by a much bigger carnivore.

Which, when he's tasked with investigating Tem's murder...

He gets worried and says the carnivore may be big enough to hurt you.

Funnily enough, he isn't wrong...

Said carnivore is even friends with you.

You and Riz often aid each other in the drama club.

To you he's a relatively kind bear.

He's friendly and gets along with you despite his large size.

The only time you can sense any issues with him is during season 2 since Legoshi is putting pressure on him.

After all, Legoshi could take you from him.

I'm assuming you have an established bond with the two.

You meet them often in the drama club and occasionally outside of class too.

During season 2, Legoshi gets more protective and suspicious.

Meanwhile Riz is occasionally... on edge.

It's all strange yet you think you understand.

Tem's murder was never solved... so maybe that's why?

Legoshi already knows you aren't capable of the murder.

Which is why he's so focused on protecting you, he's worried.

Especially since you're so oblivious... which is even worse if he has a feeling Riz is the problem.

Riz, on the other hand, may distract you and act oblivious to the murder.

You're scared? No need to worry...

Riz will protect you, you're companions, aren't you?

In reality, Riz is planning ways to keep you to himself.

If you get too scared, he could lose you.

Even worse, Legoshi could make you distrust Riz...

That can't happen, can it?

I feel the dynamic is obvious.

As Legoshi investigates Tem's murder, the two get closer to you.

If you're keen enough, you may notice Riz's strange behavior and go to Legoshi.

But if you're still oblivious, then Riz has the advantage.

You'll notice their odd behavior.

After all, Legoshi never lets you out of his sight.

He's always sniffing you and checking you over, claiming he's... concerned.

When you ask why, he seems hesitant to explain yet does express that he's worried about Tem's killer.

He just doesn't tell you he suspects Riz.

Then maybe Riz notices Legoshi making you cautious.

Throughout the investigation Riz can tell that you and Legoshi are getting closer.

Who knows... maybe he'll try to make you suspect Legoshi...

He clearly knows something you don't, right?

Yet Riz would never lie to you...

You're pals! If anything, he just wants to be closer to you.

Don't you want to be closer too?

Legoshi the entire rivalry would be trying to keep you away from Riz.

The moment he knows it's him... He's trying to find ways to confront the situation.

Yet, he also doesn't want to tell you.

If he does, Riz might hurt you.

Legoshi can no doubt tell Riz's infatuation over you.

The bear watches your every move like a hungry predator and Legoshi fears for your safety like he does everyone else.

Legoshi stalks you because he feels he needs to keep his eyes on you.

If he looks away... you may fall prey to Riz.

Legoshi isn't very confident in your abilities when it comes to fighting.

Bears are naturally strong and Legoshi's trained.

You, on the other hand, haven't even tasted meat.

Legoshi feels bad for stalking you... but it becomes less about learning things from you and more trying to protect you.

He sticks beside you, invites you to hang out...

Even during your club he stays beside you like a guard dog.

Legoshi is training to protect those he loves, especially you.

He doesn't like the depraved gaze Riz gives you when he looks at you.

Over time, Legoshi goes through rigorous training with Gohin to be able to confront Tem's killer.

However, such training ends up making him tired more easily.

This no doubt stresses him out because he's worried to take his eyes off you.

He knows that you should be fine...

But he keeps having nightmares of you being hurt.

Meanwhile, Riz is on edge since he notices Legoshi's behavior.

He also knows Legoshi's has his... taste.

While Legoshi is off training and struggling to rest, Riz tries to make you trust him more.

He invites you out and makes comments on Legoshi's behavior.

Isn't it strange?

You try to explain that he's just trying to find the killer of his friend... but Riz doesn't seem to take it too well.

He claims you and Legoshi are just being paranoid... the cops should get the carnivore who did it.

You have nothing to worry about....

Legoshi can't protect you in his tired state, right?

So... let Riz take care of things...

He'll make sure you're safe.

I feel instead of Pina being kidnapped, it would be you.

Once Legoshi knows it's Riz, Riz snaps.

He fears that Legoshi will take his new best pal.

This leads to the much stronger bear kidnapping you.

You're placed in the dump by Riz, who promises to come back later once he takes care of Legoshi.

You struggle in your bonds, but it appears Riz thought things through.

You're a carnivore... which means you need stronger bonds... like chains.

The final battle would determine which ending occurs, just as you wanted.

Legoshi Ending

Legoshi's ending is the closest to canon.

This is when during the final battle, Legoshi manages to have Louis help him by allowing him to eat his leg.

This gives Legoshi the strength he needs to defeat Riz.

Their fight is brutal too.

You can hear their grunting and growling, along with blood hitting the ground.

There's moments you can even see from where you are.

Since they're fighting for you too, I imagine Riz has a hard time backing down.

He knows what he had with Tem was delusional...

Yet he feels he needs you.

This results in the bear fighting more intensely.

Unfortunately for Riz... Legoshi manages to knock him down in the end.

Both carnivores are arrested and treated, along with you being taken in for questioning.

However, both you and Legoshi are released.

Legoshi by this point in the story leaves school, he may even suggest taking you with him so he can protect you.

Even if you don't, Legoshi still often visits you outside of school.

While Riz is dealt with, he still fears leaving you alone.

It can be because he's a protective friend... or he loves you romantically.

His feelings are rather neutral and don't change too much in his intentions.

One thing I can imagine him doing is getting a place to live and asking you to live with him.

You're both carnivores... should be fine to be roommates, right?

In this ending, Legoshi becomes an overprotective roommate.

He's not too possessive... just overly worried as he knows he almost lost you.

Yet, now that you're roommates, you'll be safe with him...

He'll make sure he's always around to protect you...

Even if it means following you around like a guard dog... even while you're unaware.

Riz Ending

Riz's ending is the more... gorey ending.

This is also, obviously, the bad ending.

This is the ending where Legoshi loses.

Maybe Louis wasn't here to help him, for one reason or another.

That or Riz, due to feeling more motivated to get rid of the wolf, manages to overpower him even with Louis' help.

You're praying Legoshi will win.

After all, now you know he killed Tem.

He killed and ate Tem in the name of friendship.

What does that mean for you?

We already know Riz is delusional.

At first it was meant to cope with the fact he snapped and ate Tem due to coming off his medication.

Yet when he meets you, such delusions make him believe he should eat you too.

After all, Legoshi wants to take you from him.

Well, if Riz can't have you...

No one can.

The fight would continue as normal...

But Riz manages to take down Legoshi.

Maybe he kills him, maybe he doesn't.

Either way, Riz flees to the dump where he keeps you.

By the time you see your captor again, his clothes are mauled... and his fur is covered in blood.

Poor you doesn't have much of a chance against him.

The chains make it hard to fight back.

Riz tries to reassure you, telling you he's just making sure you stay together.

After all... This way you two can be close... forever.

No one will take you from him this way.

He tries to make it quick... yet your struggling makes it difficult.

... by the end of it, Riz feels your taste fill his mouth.

Your blood dribbles down his maw, flesh sticking to his fur.

Originally, he would've felt bad.

After all, he isn't sure if this was the right thing to do...

Yet, soon, he tells himself this is what you wanted.

He convinces himself, just like with Tem, that this was the best way to make you his.

Will he still be arrested? No doubt...

But he accepts such a fate... the deed is done...

Now Riz can have you all to himself, with no one to take you from him...

Forever.