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wonderjanga · 2 months ago

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Accessories

The twins couldn’t believe it. They had gotten news that after nearly five years their father‘s body, or rather it was left it, had been somehow pulled from the tomb. So, Billy and Mary were allowed to collect some of the things from the body.

Billy and Mary: *walking over to the collection site*

Coworker 1: “The Batson twins?”

Billy and Mary: *pause and look over to Coworker 1*

Coworker 1: “My god you two are all grown up.”

Mary: “Do we know you…?” *shares a look with Billy*

Coworker 1: “Ah you were probably too young to remember. I was a work friend of your father’s. I met you both when you were babies.”

Coworker 2: *walks over* “So did I!”

Billy: “Oh cool…” *sounds awkward and shares another look with Mary*

Billy and Mary didn’t know that all the people there were either friends of C.C. or Marilyn. They didn’t know that this entire thing was basically turned into a sort of funeral, seeing as none of their friends got to go to C.C.’s. The people were nice though. Most had flocked to them, telling the twins stories about their father and mother which everyone was honestly grateful for. It made the entire thing hurt less for them.

Coworker 2: “But anyways, are you two here to collect the stuff from the body?”

Billy: “Yeah.” *nods head*

Coworker 1: “Well, it’s just over there.” *points in a direction*

Mary and Billy: “Thank you.” *in unison*

Coworker 1: “No problem.”

Coworker 1 & 2: *watch the twins go*

Coworker 2: “Those poor kids.”

After this, neither of the twins could bring themselves to go out in their Marvel forms for about a week. A direct result of their grieving was that everyone was concerned about where the two superheroes had gone. For the Fawcitizens, they were worried sick about their lovable heroes. For the JL, one of the sunniest person they know, and one their heaviest hitters just up and disappeared and isn’t answering his comm. For the YJ, one of their kindest and lovable members poofed and was gone. For magic users, their Champion just vanished. And for the Marvels’ villains, they were confused because the imbeciles they fight nearly every week didn’t seem like the type of people to just abandon their post. Safe to say, it threw a lot of people off.

Meanwhile, Billy and Mary are looking at the things C.C. had with him during his last moments. The man only had his wedding ring and a pair of now broken glasses. The backpack he had been spotted with before going into the tomb was nowhere to be found. So, now with these two items were in the twins’ possession, they decided to do something with them. Billy put the string on some yarn he got from an old lady a couple doors down, and as for the glasses, he and Mary pooled as much money as they could to get the frame fixed, thankfully getting a discount because the glasses fixer had a soft spot for kids. They didn’t care for the lenses because they remember their mother saying something about how C.C.’s vision was absolutely terrible. Billy now lets the ring hang around his neck from the yarn and Mary wears the glasses on her head since they’re too big for her face.

Unfortunately for them, they couldn’t grieve forever. Black Adam showed up in Fawcett and literally demanded they come out of hiding. So they did, or at least Billy did. He let Mary stay home.

Black Adam: “There you are.”

Marvel: *waves to Adam* “Heeeey… Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit. I’ve been busy.”

They fought like usual, and everything was going normal until…

Marvel: *punches Adam in the face*

Black Adam: *skids back and his hand went to his face*

Marvel: *confused because he’s seen him shrug of worse*

Black Adam: *moves and there’s a nice ring mark on his face*

Marvel: *jaw slightly drops and looks to the hand he punched him with*

Yup, for some reason, the ring translated to his Marvel form. (The Gods were feeling like causing drama) He honestly felt so bad for Adam because the mark looks like it’s going to welt. They wrapped up the fight soon after that. The fight was caught on the news and everyone was happy Cap was back, although they were still concerned as to why Mary hadn’t appeared. They were hoping she’d come back too.

Eventually though, someone pointed out the wedding ring. That was how everyone collectively came to the conclusion that Marvel had been gone because he was getting married. Everyone was then collectively distraught. Like the JL are upset because Marvel didn’t invite them, let alone mention it. The YJ are upset because Mary didn’t tell them she was leaving. They also would’ve liked to be invited too. As for the simps and or stans? All screaming, crying, and throwing up.

After fighting Black Adam, the twins decided to get back into heroics. When Mary transforms now, she gets to wear her father’s glasses. (Her Gods just wanted her to look more like a cutie patootie) Everyone was eating up the new look. The two decided to clear the air with their friends too.

At the Watchtower…

Marvel: *sitting at a meeting table being bombarded*

Flash: “Dude I invited you to my wedding! Is the sentiment not the same??” *sounds completely betrayed*

Marvel: *confused* “Wha-”

Supes: “I invited you to mine too!”

Billy ended up having to make a flimsy excuse that no one believed. As for Mary…

M’gann: “Mary? You went to a wedding? Why didn’t you tell us??”

Mary: “What do you mean? Marvel and I just went on a little adventure that got out of hand.” *all calm and stuff*

Kid Flash: “What about the ring?”

Mary: “What ring- Oooh the ring. Marvel just wanted to accessorize. Trust.”

Also, as for how C.C.’s body hadn’t just been dust? Here are a couple solutions you can choose from: This AU isn’t a time bubble AU, or this AU is a time bubble AU but since the tomb held Black Adam, it’s remaining magical properties slowed down the decomposition rate of C.C.’s body, or the wizard did something and that slowed the decomposition rate, or something else, which I would LOVE to hear yall’s ideas.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett city #captain marvel dc #fawcett #fawcett comics #mary batson #mary bromfield #mary marvel

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maiaczy · 10 months ago

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Terence mayhaps

What if Terence D'Arby was in the Jojolands

Who do you guys think each of them would main in mario kart (my headcanons under the cut)

Jodio - Shy Guy (specifically the dark blue version)

Lowkey a pro at this game. Likes to challenge himself in time trials and knows all the best cart combinations. If there is a shortcut on the track, he WILL take it (and will almost always be successful). Actually enjoys Rainbow Road (the real reason for his psychopath diagnosis).

Dragona - Pink Gold Peach (I could see them picking Daisy too)

Just there to have a good time tbh. At least most of the time, because every now and then when they're doing particularly well their competitive streak kicks in, and trust me – once they get into it, they get REALLY into it (cross them at your own risk). Favorite track is Cheep Cheep Beach.

Paco - Bowser

He thinks gaming is dumb and a waste of time (definitely not because he sucks at it). On the rare occasion he does get convinced to play, he keeps bumping into walls and other players (it doesn't help that he picks one of the heaviest characters in the game). Known for notoriously running into banana peels. Gaming sessions usually end in him "inviting" the other players to the gym.

Usagi - Luigi

Relates to Luigi on a personal level for being the underappreciated helper of the group. He's actually quite good at the game. His aim is freakishly accurate and he loves to hoard items to target other players (for unknown reasons they seem to hit everyone but Dragona). Similarly to Jodio, he takes shortcuts almost every chance he gets, but unlike Jodio, it doesn't always go so well. Also probably likes Baby Park like the freak he is.

Charmingman - Dry Bones

Used to play with Mauka a lot, so he's surprisingly good, and can get quite competitive too. Drives solely on bikes, which give him some good ol' maneuverabilty to avoid all those damn banana peels Usagi keeps throwing around. Secretly loves the music tracks and sometimes listens to them while riding his bike irl, imagining himself to be in a race. Favorite item is Boo.

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limethefirst · 5 months ago

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Guard Dogs

pairings: Deadpool x reader x Wolverine

warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, creepy guy in a bar, crude humor

summary: you never have to worry when you go out, your guard dogs are always there to protect you

a/n: can be perceived as romantic or platonic, it’s not specified! Also I want to thank everyone who’s been supporting my stories and all the kind words I’ve received!

Going out alone wasn’t something you liked to do, but unfortunately there were a lot of instances in which you had to. The world itself wasn’t a safe place, both Wade and Logan knew that, in fact it was one of the few things they could always agree on.

Today was no different, do your usual chores, relax, eat, work, but there was something else you wanted to do, a little treat for all your hard work, “Let’s go drinking tonight!”

Wade and Logan looked up from whatever they were doing. You had bursted into their apartment without a notice.

It was normal for all three of you to hang out, but it was unusual for you guys to all go to a bar together. Logan was the heaviest drinker of the group, he knew where to go, Wade would go with his friends mostly, and you didn’t treat yourself to this as much.

“Alright,” Logan mumbled, his eyes on whatever stories the local news channel had on, controller in one hand his head in the other.

“Woah the big bad wolf wants to be seen out with us?!” Wade exclaimed, referring to Logan, “Sign me up!” Logan rolled his eyes at the comment his ‘friend’ made, not in the mood to argue with him.

“Okay I’ll be back at 7,” You told the men, closing the door heading back to your own apartment.

“I need to go put on my good toupee!” Wade claps his hands together, heading towards his bathroom, grabbing the staplers on his way.

Logan’s eyes still glued to the television yells over to him, “They’re all ugly don’t worry.” Wade flips him off, closing the door.

Getting ready was something that made time fly by, because before anyone knew it 7 was already here. The three musketeers were ready for their adventure.

Logan led the way, knowing the best places in the city despite being here for the shortest amount of time. Wade was on your right fixing his “hair system” as he made some snarky remarks at Logan.

You walked close to Wade unaware of what was going on.

The bar was nice, it had some stools, a few benches and normal tables for bigger groups. Logan sat himself on the stools by the bartender knowing he’d get liquor much faster this way. Wade sat a seat away from Logan leaving you space in the middle of the two, which you didn’t mind at all.

“Give me another drink,” Logan called to the bar keep.

“There you go just fucking up that liver again,” Wade smirked at him, just trying to get under his skin.

“Shut the fuck up before I rip off that toupee and shove it right up your-”

Before Logan could finish Wade quickly put his finger up to his mouth, “Woah there peanut, I don’t do pegging on the first date,”

“If this wasn’t a public bar I’d cut that oversized head of yours off,”

You laughed as Logan and Wades bickering continued. Suddenly you noticed as the music seemed to turn off, normally you wouldn’t mind but tonight a nice song would’ve been good so you quietly excuse yourself from the situation.

You found yourself walking over to the jukebox; your eyes examining the song selections before picking ‘Million Dollar Man’ by Lana Del Rey (Ldr mentioned).

Having put on your song you found yourself walking back to the stool seat before a man walked in front of you.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing by herself?” His tone was slurred, obviously from drinking too much. He wasn’t tall and he looked like he’d just woken up.

You gave a quiet sigh, “Oh I’m not alone,” You gave him a slight smile hoping he’d get the memo.

The man looked around and smiled creepily at you, “I don’t see anyone” He slowly took some more steps closer to you.

“How ‘bout now Bub,” Logan’s voice boomed from behind you, you felt his hand on your shoulder.

The creep gave an annoyed eye roll. Logan was taller than the man by a lot, and was definitely more intimidating.

“We were just talking, why don’t you leave us alone?” He began to mock Logan, this only riled him up some more.

“I’ll give you three seconds to walk away before I get serious,” Logan’s eyes were trained on the man, his arms were now crossed over his chest, visibly annoyed.

The man let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah okay what are you gonna do buddy?”

“We’re gonna fuck you in the ass,” Wade said as he showed up behind the man and grabbed his head, smashing it into the bar. Logan then brought the man back up just to knee him in the stomach before throwing him on the ground.

Everyone else started to get up after seeing the commotion, obviously itching for a fight, but you didn’t waste anytime for that grabbing both men and running out of the bar.

“Jesus Wade did you have to say that?” You asked him, wondering why he thought ass play was a threat.

“Do not use my name in vein,” he responded, clearly unbothered by his remark.

Logan gruffed at the evening you guys had, visibly tired from all that went on.

“We need to stop going out together,” you said looking at the street light.

“Let’s watch a movie at my place next time!” Wade offered, a cheery expression on his face.

“Yea whatever but you better not pick a fucking porno again,” Logan glared at him remembering the last time Wade picked a movie for the three of you to watch.

“I think it makes for good team bonding!”

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #deadpool #marvel #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #x men #x reader #deadpool x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #xreader

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cupcakeinat0r · 10 months ago

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Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation.

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

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siddyyyyyyyy · 5 months ago

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Rockstar Girlfriend

Older!Damian Wayne x fem!Reader

wc: 3.7 K summary: You're Damian's girlfriend, and his family wants to visit your concert warnings: none, no y/n used, established relationship a/n: I often daydream about this scnenario, so here you go. divider from @super-marvel-dc , just the stuff I needed ! enjoy

Tuning your guitar does get on your nerves on tours, especially right before you need to go on stage and the E-string seems to snap any moment. Your earpiece counts the few last beats down before the lights go off and you have to be on stage, finally getting the guitar tuned for the show. The supporting band got off stage a few mintues ago, hyping you and your bandmates up for the show, since you are the main act. This band is the most sweetest you‘ve ever met, even when they play a little softer music than you.

Just in time, you get to your mic stand and can only see some flashlights from phones in the crowd before you and your band play the first chord of the opening song. Ear-deafening shouts and cheers errupt from the crowd, having to focus on staying in the rythm, also to begin singing on the right time.

The lightshow of the stage gives the crowd an even more beautiful and energetic view, most of them singing along the first words of the song while some record with their phones. It seems like you‘re singing to a see of people, not able to recognise this many faces or even identify some with the lights flickering to the beat of the music, having to focus on multiple things at the same time anyway. But one thing is that you are sure of. It‘s that your boyfriend should be here, most likely somewhere in the front rows. As you continue to play and sing, you‘re intently watching the crowd on the first rows, trying to make out where he is. It is nearly impossible though, the lightshow making it less possible to actually recognise anyone from the stage.

You give up after a moment and focus on performing, jumping around lightly at the parts where you don‘t need to sing and can have fun. It seems like the viewers also have a lot of fun with your music, seeing some mosh-pits form further in the back and middle. You had trouble believing it at first when you saw people file out of the hall with your first few concerts, that there are some rowdy and elder people who enjoy your music. They‘re probably the same ones in the pit right now. Good thing Damian is probably at the front, he would‘ve seriously injured people on accident.

Your band is two songs in, but the set list still has twenty songs left, promising for a long night. Damian is indeed by the front rows, standing among other hardcore fans who seem too desperate for his taste. But who is he to judge, he tries to make it to every concert you guys announce and play near by. Always getting some kind of merch by the merch stands before the show, small stickers or patches, you name it; he has it.

During a more heavy song, you engange with the crowd as usual, telling them to part the crowd for the up-coming breakdown. Of course, the crowd does a good job at that, some people in the front and back just watching the show and crowd while the band continues to play.

The breakdown, the most heaviest part of the song, start playing and the people create a ‚Wall of Death‘, it looking satisfying from your view. Your bassist does most of the screaming vocals on the extra mic stand, getting to play the thrilling chords on your guitar while watching the crowd have fun.

Finally, you meet eyes with Damian. He grins proudly, wearing a shirt with your band logo on it. He gives you a thumbs up, seemingly proud and happy to support you on one of your bigger perfomances. Normally, you play at smaller stages, but the support band and your new support and love from fans made this possible to happen. It‘s a sight to see, knowing all these people like the stuff you‘re creating for your own enjoyment and actively support your band because they want more of your music.

You‘re halfway through your setlist now, not being nervous at all now as you get used to the feeling fairly quickly. It‘s always during the middle of the set when it is time for a small break, getting to drink some water while engaging with the crowd and entertaining them. And who would your bandmates be if they wouldn‘t mess around with the other mic while you talk, making the crowd laugh and record the interaction with your band. After the joksters finally lock in, it‘s time to perform the last half of the set list. The crowd really does give their best on having fun, never having seen so many mosh pits in one of your concerts before.

The show comes to an end, being sweaty and worn out after the perfomance but you can‘t leave without throwing some guitar picks and drumming sticks to the crowd, a lot of them being happy over it and catching them.

Lastly, you could finally leave for the backstage and into your private room to get unready and settle down into your own respective homes.

»Was your lovey-dovey boyfriend here again?« Your drummer asks while drying his hair off with a towel, always talking about your boyfriend as if he would take him from you. In a friendly, funny way, of course.

»Yeah, somewhere in the front row. Why?«

You answer back while taking off your make up in front of a mirror, glancing behind your shoulder at him.

»I just saw him too. Seemed like he was wearing our merch!«

He tells you excitedly with a big grin, making sure to get his hair dry from his sweat.

»Yeah, he definitely wore our merch.« You nod back as your face is bare again, walking over to your bag at the couch. Your bandmates seem to giggle and mostly joke a bit around with how cheesy your boyfriend is, being used to their shenanigans by now. You settle down on the couch for a moment, your feet and legs aching from standing and performing for almost an hour tonight, having been preparing and helping the technicians with setting up the lightshow and stage this afternoon, since you feel bad for them doing all this for your band.

Eventually, you make your way outside of the arena to meet your boyfriend, having your bag over your shoulder while the staff is taking care of the rest. He is standing by the back door, right where you walked out of, greeting him with a tight hug.

»God, I‘m sweaty, I probably stink so bad...«

Damian doesn‘t even budge and keeps you in his arms, a soft expression on his face.

»So what? You were amazing up there. As always.«

He shrugs and doesn‘t seem to want to let go of you yet, swaying together from side to side which makes you both smile at the other.

Damian walks you home, ending up carrying you once you mention about your feet hurting. There‘s something deeply affectionate in the way he holds and carries you in his arms, not leaving room for any arguments about it.

The night ends with him dropping you off by your home, exchanging some fleeting kisses before he is forced to leave for patrol with the others.

----

The Wayne Manor, 11:26 PM

»Are you not going to explain why you‘re late this time?« Bruce gruff voice calls out once Damian joins the rest on the rooftop, changed in his suit and ready to patrol finally.

»He was at his girlfriends concert. They had a show nearby today.« Tim snitches, making it short but also making Damian glare at him even harder.

»Is that true?«

His father questions again and awaits his answer, receiving a nod as Damian looks at him finally.

»Yes, I was at her show. Bought a shirt.«

Batman simply sighs out but doesn‘t seem annoyed by it for more than five seconds.

»Where was it this time?« He asks with rather more curiousity, making Damian state the name of the city, having driven back by train with you together to drop you off safely.

The conversation doesn‘t last long as they begin to patrol, Damian having a bit of trouble hearing at first, still used to the loud music from earlier. The patrol ends up being as usual, no serious troubles.

----

Next morning at the Manor seems to be chaotic once again, some voices coming from the kitchen while Bruce is sipping on a cup of coffee with a newsletter in hand.

»Why can‘t we ever join when you‘re going out with her? She‘s so nice and fun to talk to, it‘s unfair!«

Dick complains from the kitchen as he prepares some toast for himself, Damian sitting by the kitchen island with a cup of tea in hand.

»If you wouldn‘t try to disturb their dates, maybe he would have her come over more frequently.«

Tim counters as he is at the kitchen island as well, working at his laptop. The eldest son groans dramatically, defending himself from the obvious truth.

»I‘m not trying to disturb them, just trying to talk and see how it‘s going...«

»Definitely invading their privacy.«

It seems like Dick still wants to spend more time all together with you and the family, but it‘s clear that you don‘t have much time now with your small tour going on and them being vigilantes.

»I would also like to see her more often, but you‘ve got to understand she has her own duties, just like us.«

Alfred chimes in as he walks into the kitchen, preparing more tea as he talks. The discussion is interrupted as Bruce finally walks in, interrupting the complains of Dick and mean comments from Damian.

»Why don‘t we visit one of her concerts? We‘ve never been to one before.«

It is really bizarre for him to suggest something like this, especially since he seems to need to work a lot lately. Maybe he has finally gone mad?

At the silence he receives, he continues, seeing the bewildered looks from his children.

»I‘m simply saying we never saw her perform. It can‘t be that bad, can it?«

Cass, who just happens to stand by the door studies the others, not being against it herself. She raises her hand with a nod, seemingly agreeing with the idea. Damian notices, and the rest does as well, making Jason speak up finally.

»She does rock and metal, right?«

»Yes, but — «

Damian really doesn‘t want the rest to tag along to the next concert you give in town, knowing it will mostly be embarrassing and they will probably get spotted more easily by reporters or simple fans.

But before he could finish his sentence, everyone raises their hand lightly, even Alfred being okay with the idea.

»Are you kidding me?« He sighs out, being clearly overpowered as the plan is settled.

The Wayne‘s will be at your next concert.

----

Your bandmates almost freak out once you tell them the news, Damian having called you and sheepishly admitted it, claiming it‘s his fault. Clearly, no one is upset. Actually, everyone seems to be freaking out for all the good reasons.

Now it‘s time to prepare for the show this evening, mostly texting with Damian and finally getting to prepare after getting teased by your bandmates once more.

You watch people arrive by the parking lot, seeing how many people already are inside in the arena with some drinks in hand, the show beginning in about half an hour. But you can‘t watch for much longer, getting dragged to the backstage to tune your guitar and warm up for the show. The supporting band plays first just like before, hyping each other up again.

"Are you there already? Please warn them about the supporting band, don't want them to get confused."

You text to Damian, hoping they are at least in the parking lot already and ready to watch the show.

"We got here an hour ago, saved some seats. I'll tell them about it."

He responds back fairly quickly, making you assume they're in the front row if they got in so early. Time goes by and the show starts, the support band starting their 45 minutes set before you come on stage and play your own set list.

As the other times, the band starts with more softer songs, getting progressively more heavy, but still not as heavy as your songs. Bruce stays standing beside Damian, not used to rock shows, but he clearly respects it and is just here out of curiousity and wants to support his 'almost-daughter-in-law' in some way. Dick seems to enjoy himself, even when this isn't his usual type of music. He is mostly fascinated by the enthusiastic crowd and how popular your band seems to be, even when you're about nineteen by now. Perks of starting young, he guesses.

Jason seems to be rather unimpressed by the show, claiming he expected some heavier stuff. But this is just the supporting band anyway, so Damian doesn't mind arguing over the loud music. Cass and Tim simply watch, them both having informend themselves before joining the show tonight. But they do seem to be rather amused by some fans. The flashing lights from the lightshow seems to amaze Cass the most though, being almost captivated by how pretty the lights shine and work on stage.

Eventually, the band goes off stage, meeting your band backstage and tells you all about the Wayne family being there, having forgotten to tell them earlier about it.

Now that it's your turn to perform, you feel more nervous than at other times. Usually, you get nervous just before the show, but it fades once you get to play the first few chords and riffs, the cheering form the crowd spurring you on even more.

This time it's different and the bassist seems to notice of it. She walks up to you, trying to hype you up and give you some motivational words, but they do little to calm your nerves down. It's too late anyway, being called up on stage by the staff. You quickly hop on stage with the rest, lights being turned off and the anticiaption rises. Your heartbeat quickens in your chest, hearing the happy crowd even with your earpiece on. The first song starts to play, strumming the intro on your guitar while doing your best to focus on getting the notes right and not play too fast.

The lights turn back on once you start to sing, as usual confident and smooth. In the back of your head you are still thinking about Damians whole family being here, not able to ignore the heart pounding heavily in your ears while you perform. You curse yourself inwardly for still being nervy, hating how new this feels, even though it's nothing new at all.

Continuing with the show, the song progresses into more heavy riffs and up beat tempo, getting a rich mix of an energetic and hearty sound. You get a smooth transition onto the next song, pushing through your slight nervousness to perform the second song with even more passion. As there are less singing parts, you get to jump around the stage a little and let go of the skittish energy inside you. From another perspective, it just looks like you're having fun.

Jason seems more impressed now, furrowing his brows lightly as he bops his head along the music lightly. Dick seems to completely lose it though, jumping with the other fans along and getting lost in the crowd eventually. Bruce stays stoic, focussing his eyes on you as he watches how you perform. You seem more alive and vibrant on stage, never having really seen you this bouncy before. Often times, when you came over, you seemed to be just a little shy but very polite. Here, you still seem to be a good soul, but a lot less shy. And that in front of probably over six hundered people.

Playing and performing the songs seem to get easier with time, not able to focus your eyes on specific people in the crowd, but it's probably better this way. Finally, you reach the half of the set list, not being nervous or anxiuos anymore. Well, you are a bit nervous since your bandmates promised to not do any embarressing stuff on stage, not entirely trusting them though.

As soon as you had a few gulps of water, you get back on your spot in the middle of the stage, hand resting on your hip while the other holds you guitar by neck for the meantime. It's time to entertain the crowd.

»A round of applause for our vocalist and her breathtaking perfomance!«

Of course, your bassist said something before you with his own extra mic stand. Nevertheless, the crowd fires up the atmosphere, getting loud shouts and cheers from them. Cass has to put her hands over her ears from how loud it is, all the while Damian smirks proudly and claps cheerfully.

»Thank you! Did you have to embarrass me?« You finally speak into your own mic as you turn to face Marcus, the bassist, earning a few chuckles from the large crowd.

Meanwhile, Jason has to physically hold Dick back from screaming something along the lines of 'We love you!' and 'You're my favourite band!' to you and fluster you more.

»Okay, ignore these goofballs for now. I need you all to part the sea for the next song. Shit's about to get heavy.« You have actually forgotten that Damian's whole family is here, realising only a moment later and immediately search for them in the crowd. You spot them being located more by the right side of the crowd, but still fairly in the middle and at the front row. Dick waves at you, earning a sheepish smile from you before focussing back on the show.

The lights turn off again, getting a countdown and metronome in your earpiece once more as the large crowd does their work and parts into two. Bruce is very confused, not getting what's about to happen. While it's not too loud he decides to ask.

»What's this about, Damian?« He only receives a sly smile from his youngest son, hoping he gets an answer.

»Are you ready for a Wall of Death?« You exclaim through the mic, earning many cheers and shouts back. But you aren't satisfied and ask again, getting an even louder response. Now Bruce knows what it's called but he has absolute zero idea what's about to happen.

Jason knows though and makes sure Cass is not in the way, not wanting to see dead bodies. The lights switch to red as usual, matching the rythm of your song again while the fans wait for the breakdown to drop. The bassist, Marcus, does most of the singing — or vocal screaming — in the song, leaving you to jump around and play some nasty riffs.

The parted crowd immediatly rushes at eachother, the Wall of death happening. Bruce watches with light fascination, not keeping his eye off the people as if to make sure nothing goes wrong. Your band goes on though, the songs playing easily and with passion as the show goes on.

Jason seems to enjoy it more himself, headbanging more to the music while he watches you perform, and for once doesn't regret going out with his family. As for the rest of the family... they aren't into this type of music, but stay until the end anyway and mostly take pride on watching you perform the songs out with your band on stage. ----

Going off stage after throwing some guitar picks and drumming sticks into the crowd, you feel exhausted again. Feet hurting, fingers and wrists needing some stretching and your shoulders ache lightly from the strap of the guitar. Your voice is needs a break for tonight as well. But ignoring that, you take your sweaty make up off and go about the same routine as usual, before you can take a proper shower back at home. Oh, right. You're sleeping over by Damians house this time.

Walking out of the building, you see the Bat family waiting by their limousine for you. Damian approaches you once he sees you, pulling you into a hug before he kisses your cheek.

»You did great. As always.« He tells you as every night, it still sounding genuine and loving when he says it.

»Thanks... what do they think?«

»I didn't ask. But they seem okay.« Damian answers you, earning a soft groan from you, both from exhaustion and slight nervousness of their opinions. He seems to sense it and chuckles lightly, rubbing your back gently with his hand.

»Stop making out, we've got places to be!« What seems to be Jason calls out, interrupting the small kiss you shared just now.

With a small groan, he tags you along by the waist. Bruce greets you with a brief nod, not wasting any time to speak up.

»Good evening. When Damian said you have a band, I didn't expect it to be something like this.« In fact, he expected the worst the first time he found out about it, but never got to actually see what it's like until now. It makes Dick and Jason roll their eyes, even earning a brief annoyed look from Cass.

»The music was great, don't worry. I even got into one of those mosh pits. I would go again.« Dick interwhines, smiling goofily at you. He definitely had a good time.

»Me too. Loved the heavier songs.« Jason adds onto, getting slightly surprised by his positive feedback. Maybe they are just glad to have had some fun in a while, knowing they work hard to protect the city.

You exchange a few more words with them, sitting into the limousine beside Damian, who keeps his arm around your waist the entire time. He can sense your tiredness, as does the rest, but they keep talking about the show and what they liked the best. It's actually good they do so, not needing to talk so much. While quietly sitting beside Damian, you see that Cass has a pin of your band logo at her bag, getting a bit flustered and happy on the inside. You can't hold it for long though, being worn out after the long concert and doze off against your lovers shoulder before even arriving back to the Manor.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed reading it!!

←MASTERLIST

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juletheghoul · 6 months ago

Text

unclean

a/n: Honestly, you can blame my period for this one. I took a huge liberty because usually women on their periods in this time weren't treated the way they should have been, also took an educated guess at forms of relief. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for losing her mind with me, thanks my love! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus not being a little bitch about periods, creampie, blood & mess lets be real, boob worship, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

The wince came without your permission, your face twisting in discomfort as you poured his wine, pausing for a moment to steady yourself; thankfully without spilling a drop.

“Are you hurt, girl?” You unclench your eyes and find him staring at you with a frown, no doubt confused by your expression.

“Apologies Dominus, it is nothing.” You bow your head but hiss nonetheless and he puts down the bread.

“Answer me truthfully girl, what pains you?” His eyes are intent and for a moment you cannot tell if it is annoyance or worry that twists his features. Heat rushes to your face, men usually don’t take the news well when they are reminded of the troubles of the opposite sex. You fidget, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth while you gather your wits.

“It is just, my blood will flow soon Dominus. Sometimes the pain precedes it.” You bow your head and stare at the floor by his feet, gearing up for the usual responses you’d get from the men you’ve served, anger, or disgust. He says nothing, but when you look up he nods once. “I will retreat to my chambers soon. I will send someone else to tend to you if it pleases you, Dominus.”

“I require nothing further, you may tend to your needs.” He dismisses you gracefully, much more so than any other you’ve served and it’s as though a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

The blood does not dull the pain.

Hours after confessing to your Dominus, you can do nothing more than curl up in your bed, and suffer in silence. One of the older women had boiled some water for you to dip a flat stone, place it on your belly for relief and it had worked wonders for a time but both the water and the stone had gone cold ages ago. All that was left to do was grit your teeth and bear it.

You cannot help but crave him even more, with the blood flowing, your lower back and breasts aching, and your insides twisting, the pleasure of his cock seemed like the miracle that could cure you. Men didn’t do that though, women all knew it was nothing more than what the female body did, but men–society deemed it unclean. And so you had to endure, without the relief of his body or his gift. Still, you couldn’t help but be grateful for him, he did not protest to the women in his service sequestering themselves until it passed. He did not ask questions, he did not balk at the talk of pain.

The first day passed, and the second found you in more agony. The second was the worst for you, when the blood was the heaviest, and the discomfort grew nearly unbearable.

The women brought you hot soups and wine warmed with spices, boiled water for the stone and clean rags for the mess. You thanked them, with tears in your eyes and they nodded and left you to your misery. You slept when you could, but when the night came, sleep had become a stranger, and all you could do was pray to all of the Gods to either take the pain, or take your life.

Your door opened late into the night and you thought one of the women had brought more hot water but it was him, your Dominus, standing at the threshold to your modest chamber bathed in soft candlelight and shadow.

“Dominus-” You struggled, moving to stand too quickly and falling back to sit on your bed. “Apologies Dominus, what-” He held up his hands to forestall your speech.

“Peace, girl, I am not here to ask anything of you.” He came in and closed the door, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I heard one of the women speaking about you, she said you were suffering a great deal.”

“I am well, Dominus.” You could barely keep the grimace off your face.

“Do not lie to me, girl, I can see the agony.” He approached slowly, he’d already prepared for bed and wore a simple tunic. “I have heard it said that pleasure often eases the pain, but I will not force the issue if you do not desire it.” You stared up at him, confusion creeping into your pain-addled mind. He stood, staring at you, for all intents and purposes a gift from the Gods in himself. “Would you like me to help you?”

“I– but you are not… the blood does not bother you, Dominus? I am unclean–” He raised his arms once more, a frown arranged on his features.

“Blood has never bothered me, girl.” You droop with relief, tears springing to your eyes and an altogether different ache building between your legs. “You need it don’t you, you need me to take the pain away, hm?” He speaks softly again and all you can do is nod, pitifully. He stands before you, taking in the unruly state of you and for a moment you think you can almost see a soft affection on his face. His thumb swipes against the plump of your lower lip softly, “How do you desire it? Soft? With kisses and gentle touches?” he holds your chin between his pinched fingers, tilting your face up to gaze into his dark eyes, “Or do you desire it more forceful? How do you need me to fuck you?”

Tears well, and you’re not sure if it’s the softness in his voice or the relief so clearly visible on the horizon, but you swallow around the lump of gratitude in your throat. “I want it all, Dominus,” you hold onto his forearm, afraid that if you don’t make contact with him, he might evaporate like dew in the morning. “I want kisses, and gentle touches but I want force as well, I need your gift to ease the pain.”

“And you shall have it, my brave girl.” He reaches down, carefully pulling your tunic up and off and your nipples harden almost painfully. He slips his hand down, palming your breast softly, “Do they hurt too much for my attention?” soft as a breeze, his thumb strums at the sensitive tip of your breast and you bite your lip.

“They ache, but I do not wish for you to stop.” You bring his other hand to your other breast, sighing at the tenderness in his touch.

“I will be mindful.” He pulls away for a moment to undress and the sight of his cock standing at full mast is enough to make you whimper. “Patience, girl. You will have it soon enough, as deep as I can get.” You nod, but all at once you realize where you are.

“You wish to have me here? My bed is not as lush as yours-” He sees slight embarrassment on your face and he waves it away.

“This is my house, girl, I will have you where I please.”

You move back with a wince and he follows, discarding the soiled rag tucked between your legs without so much as a flinch and whatever feelings of devotion, of loyalty or possibly obsession you have for him grow to greater and greater strength. He settles between your spread thighs and just the warm heft of him is soothing, the heat of his skin on your belly, the heavy press of his cock on your sex like a balm.

Wordlessly he presses his lips to yours, soft, and then not so soft and his tongue explores your mouth, he tastes of wine and dark ripe fruit and you cannot help but wrap your arms around his neck, thread your fingers through his thick waves and whimper. His lips travel, mapping out their course across your skin, down the column of your neck, the base of your throat until he takes your breast in gentle hand and licks at the peak and the moan escapes your lips without your leave. He moves to the other and showers it with the same affection, both breasts shiny with his spit and your cunt melts for him like frost in the face of the sun. You can feel the way he coats himself in your want, his cock slipping between the lips of your sex. He continues to worship your breasts, licking soft like a kitten, and then sucking the tip into his mouth until you cannot take it anymore.

“Please Dominus,” Your voice breaks when he lets go of your nipple with a pop, enjoying the way you writhe underneath him. “I need it, I need your cock.” He kisses at your breast again before slipping his hand down, and finally slipping into the wet clutch of your cunt. “Gods above, yes, yes yes, please Dominus-” You’re breathless, the feel of him is good enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Yes, I know girl, I’m right here.” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust and the moan you let out is obscene. “This little cunt is going to behave for me, isn’t it?” His lips barely touch yours, speaking the words into your mouth; his words, his rhythm making you drip onto the fabric below. The sounds between your legs are vulgar, wet and far more appealing than any music in the world, but it is not enough. You let out a whine, pitiful and painful and he frowns. “Is it not enough?” There is no anger, only the quest for truth in his tone and you shake your head, heartbroken and shaking with need. He pulls away, and you let out a cry of anguish and clutch to him, if he left you like this you don’t think you’d survive. “Peace, girl. We will change our positioning so I can give it to you how you need it.”

When he pulls away, your eyes widen in shock and horror. Your blood has smeared all over him, his cock, his groin, spreading up almost to his belly, it collects at the mouth of your cunt and when you look down it is all over your inner thighs, the scene looking more like a battle than a bedding. He shakes his head, raising a hand to stop the apology before it is given.

“This does not frighten me, girl. This is not the first time I have been covered in the blood of another, and it will not be the last. Turn around, I would have you on your hands and knees.” You nod, and with a wince you rush to comply, presenting your backside to him and within a moment he has pulled your hips back to meet his, his cock entering you with no resistance and from this angle he knocks the wind out of you. “There it is, this is the answer, yes?” He thrusts again forcefully and a sound you’ve never heard comes out of your mouth, a dark, wanton noise and it only proves him right.

“Yes Dominus, please, like this–” you don’t finish your sentence because he pulls back and punches forward again with enough force to rock your bed. Your head drops, your back arching and he sets a brutal pace. Tears slip out from the corners of your eyes, trapped between where your face presses against the back of your forearms and you think for a moment that nothing has ever felt better.

He grunts, and for a handful of minutes the only sounds are your combined heavy breathing, the wet squelch between your legs, and the rhythmic rocking of your bed. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips hard enough to bruise but it matters not, the pleasure is too great, the relief of his cock is a sign that the Gods are real and that they have sent him to you.

You reach underneath, gasping at the feel of your cunt spread wide to take him and at just how wet you are. The engorged little pearl of your pleasure begs for attention, and you cannot deny it. With a handful of swirls you seize up, screaming through your climax and he groans as the fist of your cunt squeezes him tight, making him slow slightly but he doesn’t stop. Your knees give out for a moment but he doesn’t let you falter.

“I am not finished with you yet, this little cunt will take what I give her.” His grip tightens and he lifts you back up into position. Fucking you through your flutters, “You will give me another, girl, you will squeeze my cock again, only then will I give you my gift.” He’s breathless, maneuvering his hand around to reach between your legs while he drapes himself against your back. His fingers manipulate you rougher than you did, forcing another climax out of you while his hips drive his cock deep enough to kiss your womb.

The second climax is more intense and lasts longer and the force of it milks him dry. You feel him empty himself with a punched-out groan, collapsing onto you once his cock twitches for the last time.

Everything is silent, and for a moment, you think you might have gone onto the afterlife but then he shifts and you take a deep, steadying breath. The relaxation is so great you are afraid to move, afraid that any engagement of your muscles might result in the pain returning and so you stay still as he pulls out. You will clean once he is gone but he shocks you again when you feel a cool cloth on the skin of your backside.

“Dominus, I can–” You turn your head to him slowly but he shakes his head. The tenderness in his hands not reaching his face.

“Silence, girl.” He says nothing else, but dips the cloth into the basin of water again and rings it out, cleansing the mess between your legs silently. “I expect you to let me know the next time you are in pain.” Once he is satisfied with his task, he dips the cloth again, and uses it on himself and there is something about seeing him do this that is unnatural, you cannot help but stare. He is quick; utilitarian.

He drops the used cloth back into the basin, grabs his tunic and slips out of your room without so much as a glance but it matters not, you are asleep before he shuts the door.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #the general #general marcus acacius #gladiator 2 fanfiction #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x reader #general acacius #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x you

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sammyluvr · 1 month ago

Text

✶ . ၄၃ . something to cling to — aaron hotchner

cw : gn!reader, father-figure!hotch, hurt/comfort, angst, reader is around 18-22/a young adult in college, set sometime before/close to the beginning of season one, dead parents (reader's dad), abandonment, overall parental issues lol, anxiety, crying, panic attack probably, ft haley and the early season one team, food mentions, poor editing, 4.6K words. thank you @beatlewishes for inspiring me!

summary : aaron has been a sort of father figure since the death of your father. he picks up from your apartment at the start of winter break only to find out that your mother has left you.

aaron doesn’t hear from your mother very often. not that he needs to. you’re an adult with your own phone and campus apartment and abilities to communicate when you need something from him. that just means he takes things extra seriously when they come from her. so when she texts him, asking if he can pick you up for winter break and let you stay in his home just until her work day ends, he immediately responds with a resolute, yes, of course.

it’s the sort of thing that you’d normally ask him about, but it’s nice to see your mother be the one to take the initiative to ensure that you don’t have to take the subway with your heavy bags, all alone in the cold.

the text he receives is last minute, and he leaves work earlier than usual to arrive at your apartment on time. your mother told him you have to be out of campus housing by 8pm, and it’s a bit of a drive from quantico to your school. unfortunately, he has to be on a call the whole way over, and never gets the chance to text you that he’s on his way. he just hopes that you know he’ll be the one to pick you up rather than your mom.

the look on your face when you open the door for him tells you right away that you weren’t told. he holds back a sigh, giving you a gentle smile instead.

“hi, kid. i know you were expecting your mom. i’m sorry. she had to take an extra shift at work, but she’ll come pick you up from my house later tonight. that okay?” he asks sincerely, even though you don’t really have a choice.

you try to smile back. at least he’s here, you suppose. it means something that your mom asked him to come get you when she couldn’t, though you wish she’d have told you about it so that you didn’t get so excited by the knock on the door, expecting it to be her. she’s sort of distant these days, and you barely get home because you work on the weekends. you haven’t seen her in a while, and though things have been hard for years now, you still were looking forward to seeing her. she gives good hugs and promised to take you to your favorite restaurant on the way home to celebrate the end of your semester.

“hi, aaron. of course it’s okay. thank you for coming to get me. it’s too damn cold for the subway,” you say, trying not to sound disappointed. you’re sure he can see right through you, just how he can with nearly anyone at all, and he knows you well.

“it certainly is too cold. i’m glad your mother texted me. can i carry anything for you?” he always offers to carry your things, even if there isn’t much. you hand him your heaviest bag, and carry all the totes and looser things in your own arms. you murmur a thanks, to which he replies, “of course,” then watches as you balance a considerable amount of bags in both arms as you turn off the front light and lock the door. he’d offer to help with those too if he didn’t already know that you’re stubborn and like to take care of things for yourself.

his car is right in the parking lot, but he wishes you’d put on a scarf or a hat or maybe both before going outside. it’s quite cold; there’s snow in the overnight forecast. haley told him so this morning. he walks at a brisk pace so he can get you in the heated car sooner.

there’s enough room for your things in the backseat, so he doesn’t bother with the trunk. he puts your duffle bag on the seat, then opens your own door as you set down the rest of your things before heading to the driver’s seat. he knows he doesn’t have to worry about it, but he still checks that you’ve buckled your seat belt before he pulls out of the parking lot.

you’re polite and never snappy, entertaining his questions about how things have been since the last time he saw you, which wasn’t all that long ago. he’s a very busy man, arguably busier than your mom, but you’ve seen him more recently than you saw her. he’s very caring like that, though outwardly quite stern and stoic. you were very intimidated by him when you were younger, scared even. but your father was friends with him for years and years, close enough that you sometimes would forget that they worked together. it’s not something you forget anymore, not after your dad died on the job. and since then, you very rarely see him in his casual clothes like you used to as a kid.

he’d be over at the house in t-shirts and quarter-zips, but since your father died, your mother doesn’t invite him over for casual dinners much anymore. he’s become busier, too, so nearly any time he visits or takes you out to dinner, he’s still in his suit and tie. that’s not something you mind, of course, it’s just one of the many things that have changed, even if small and often inconsequential.

when aaron runs out of things to say, he sighs to himself, quiet enough so you won’t hear it or overthink it. you lean against the cold window and keep your eyes trained on the passing street lights and shops and tall dc office buildings. he knows you’re feeling upset that you’re mom couldn’t make it, but that you’re being adult about it, by being kind to him and trying to talk it through in your head, like always. you’ve always been a little too adult for being so young, he thinks. he can’t blame you, though.

there’s simple lights on his front porch and a pretty christmas tree showing through the front window. haley hugs you when you step inside, and you can feel her growing belly against you. their house is perfectly warm and it smells like dinner’s been cooked not too long ago. you give her the warmest smile you can muster.

aaron puts his hand on your shoulder as you head to the table for dinner and you start to relax. maybe this isn’t what you were wanting, but it’s nice. you’d been hoping to have dinner with them soon, anyway, so what’s the harm in it being now. haley’s always so sweet, extra maternal and doting now that she’s pregnant. aaron can tell she likes the way he acts around you, caring and soft, because it makes her think of how he’ll be for their baby on the way.

you’re very grateful for a warm, home cooked meal after a semester of whatever you can scrounge up in your apartment or the less than ideal dining halls. after dinner, you get comfortable on their couch. aaron sits on the other end and turns on the tv to the channel he thinks you’ll like best, at least for background noise. he’s relieved to see you working through your disappointment of not seeing your mother right away. it pains him to see you upset in any capacity.

but the contented calm of being in a warm, familiar home doesn’t last all that long for you. your mother’s night shifts always go late. then there’s the twenty minute drive from there to here. you understand this very well, but conversation with aaron lulls and the tv runs turn boring and the clock ticks late enough that a tired haley retires to bed. you’re naturally anxious, unsure how to react as your night is ruined once again.

you try to call her, text her, call her again. aaron watches you carefully. you huff out in frustration. “she’s not picking up. she should’ve been here half an hour ago.” he can tell that you’re covering up your worry with a hint of anger.

“i know. i’m sure she’ll be here soon, she’s probably on the road right now. that’s why she’s not picking up,” he placates.

“no,” you shake your head, “the calls just aren’t going through,” you stress, a hint of your anxiety peaking through the cracks of your weary composure. “it says her phone is off.” this sparks real concern for him.

“let me try,” he says, hiding his own worry to avoid adding to yours. he almost promises to get you home with her tonight, but he’s learned not to make promises he doesn’t know for sure that he can keep. when he calls her, he steps away. not to hide anything from you, just so you don’t see his face as he calls her once, twice, three times. she doesn’t pick up and you’re noticeably distressed now.

he sits right next to you on the couch and puts his arm around your shoulder. “her phone could’ve just died, sweetheart,” he quickly assures you, knowing that you’re already thinking about worst case scenarios.

because the worst case scenario has happened to you before, and no matter how many years it’s been, that feeling of dread and worry and then absolute devastation never leaves you. aaron was the second person you cried to after your father died. your mother was of course the first. now, you try not to cry in front of either of them, but you fear it’ll happen tonight.

you’re more than anxious, on edge, and maybe at your wits end tonight. after finding out about one dead parent, you worry extra. you scare easily. and this semester hasn’t necessarily been easy. you’re so tired. not just pulled an all-nighter and fell asleep on your computer for an exam tired, but months of stress and loneliness were supposed to come to an end today, but have just gotten worse kind of tired. and that’s very quickly tugging at your ability to think rationally or keep any sort of composure.you wring your hands in your lap and your shoulders are tense underneath his steady arm. he gives your bicep a comforting rub.

“we’ll find her. she’s alright. we’ll wait up a little longer for her. if she doesn’t show up tonight, you’ll sleep here and i’ll call my team. they’ll find her and make sure she’s alright,” he reassures you. he knows you’re worried something bad has happened to her.

he doesn’t want you to know that he’s worried that she’s left on purpose. the way she texted him to take you home today, neither of your calls going through, and the way he can tell even from afar that she’s been distant as of late makes him wary. and he’ll have to tell you eventually, but he’d rather wait until he has better proof, rather than a hunch. he knows his suspicions would upset you, likely make you angry with him.

“shouldn’t we start looking for her now?” you ask nervously, eyes already teary. his heart clenches at the sight.

“well, honey, i’d start with calling her workplace to see when she left,” he tells you, leaving out the ‘or if she was there at all’ part, “they’re already closed, though.” he takes another look at you and sighs softly, not in frustration, but concerned affection. “but you’re right. it’s a good idea to at least check if there’s someone there still. i’ll call there and a few people who might be able to help. but we’ll be able to find out the most tomorrow morning, okay?”

his words provide both assurance and a new bout of urgency. “but what if something happened to her?”

aaron’s face softens a bit more, just for you. “i understand you’re worried about that. and you know i’ll always take this sort of thing seriously. that’s my whole job, buddy. i really think she’s alright. you know she gets lonely at home and stays at her friend’s sometimes. and… you know she sometimes has bad nights that she’d rather you not see. there’s lots of potential reasons why she hasn’t shown up yet, and i can promise you, statistically, the odds that something very bad has happened to her aren’t as high as you think. she works in a safe area and your mother is a very smart woman. i’m not telling you not to worry or that i won’t do everything i can to find her right now, i’m just telling you that i think she’ll be okay, yeah?”

you listen closely, almost clinging to the sound of his low, comforting voice to avoid spiraling. you nod along, swallowing nervously. “okay,” you relent, huffing the word out, but not relaxing one bit. your body can’t get rid of the memories of finding out that your father had died. since then, you’ve never done well with waiting or uncertainty.

“there’s not much you can do to help me. will you try to get some sleep? the guest room is set up.” the moment he suggests it, he physically feels you tense even further underneath him. “or you can stay up right here to wait for her while i make some calls.” that gets him a nod.

the idea of being left alone with just your anxious thoughts, the dark, and the quiet as company is unsettling to say the least. that’s what trying to fall asleep in the guest room means.

aaron can easily assume that’s why you’d rather stay here, but he knows it’ll do you no good to try and stay awake. that’s just more overthinking and lost sleep. so he changes the channel to nature documentaries and sits at the dining room table where you can see him through the doorway and just barely hear the low rhythm of his deep voice over the tv. he doesn’t want you focused on what he’s saying, but more so his steady, reassuring presence.

it’s 3:04 in the morning when hotch runs out of things to do. he’s called his best assets that might pick up at this time, and written down every detail about the situation and your mother to share with his team. he looks through into the living room to see your drooping eyelids and slouched form. a little longer and you’ll probably fall asleep on your own, but he wonders if he could coax you to lay down with a blanket and a pillow. he stands quietly, and your eyes flick up to look at him when he walks past. he gives you a small smile, doesn’t answer the question in your tired eyes yet.

he takes the comforter and pillow from the bed in the guest room and before you can protest, he lays the blanket over you.

“did you find anything?” you ask sleepily, hesitantly taking the pillow from him as he hands it over. you’ll feel less guilty if you sleep on the couch rather than a comfy mattress. the pillow lays over the plush of the comforter in your lap.

“not yet,” he says gently, “i wasn’t able to get a hold of anyone at your mom’s work, but i got in contact with a few people i know who can help. the team will have plenty to work with in the morning. i already emailed and asked them to come in early.”

you give him a dejected nod. “thank you,” you murmur. he takes one of your hands in his.

“of course,” he says firmly, like he needs you to know just how much he means that. there’s absolutely no hesitation in his desire to help you. he’d stay up until three in the morning every night until he does what he can to fix this. unfortunately, his suspicion is that it’s something he can’t fix, but he’s prepared to be with you every step of the way.

“i’m too anxious to sleep,” you whisper. he crouches in front of you, his knees bumping against your shins for a moment through the fabric of the blanket.

“i know,” he murmurs back, taking one of your restless hands in his before pulling you into a hug, not bothering to move the softness of the comforter and pillow between your bodies. you sink into him, wanting to cry, but too tired. you’ll probably cry tomorrow instead. his hand smooths over the back of your head, coming to rest on your back right below your neck. it’s so steady and firm, warm and comforting. “i’m sorry this is happening. we’ll figure it out. why don’t you lay down? i’ll sit with you if you think it’ll help. i’m just waiting for someone to call me back.”

“okay,” you mumble into his shoulder, taking a long, deep breath and savoring the shield of his arms against all else for a few moments longer. then you pull away and he sets the pillow down on the couch cushion for you. you sigh, lowering your head and pulling your legs up. you take care of the blanket yourself, but he still takes the time to make sure your feet are nice and covered so you don’t get cold overnight. he turns off the last lamp in the room, though the dim chandelier over the dinner shines through the doorway. then he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch and sits on it.

by the time he’s settled, your eyes are already closed, but there’s a pinch between your brows and a frown on your lips. he frowns back at you, his gaze sweeter and sadder now that you can’t see him. one of his sturdy hands finds yours, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles as if he can soothe away the crease right above your nose. a little huff of air leaves your nose and he frowns deeper. his other hand lands gently on the side of your head, smoothing over it to calm you and ease you into sleep. haley always falls asleep faster with his hands in her hair, so he thinks it might help you.

you feel his thumb brush over your eyebrow and you wonder if he knows that your dad used to do that when you were younger or if he’s just trying to get the anxious muscles in your face to relax. you’re pretty sure the frown never leaves your face, but you fall asleep much quicker than you thought you would.

it’s not very restful, but your body keeps you in the dark until it picks up on the movement of aaron and haley going through their morning routine. there’s hushed footsteps and the sound of cereal pouring into a ceramic bowl, milk splashing.

you stretch slowly, neck aching, eyes dry, stomach and heart heavy. then you pad into the kitchen, feeling oddly shy and sheepish after overtaking the couple’s couch for the night and keeping aaron up and away from his wife until so late. they’re both in the kitchen, aaron ready for work and haley pouring her bowl of cereal. she looks tired when she turns in your direction at the sound of your footsteps, and aaron looks composed as always. haley looks at you with a much more obviously sympathetic expression, but he smiles at you too.

“would you like some cereal, honey?” haley asks, walking over to give your shoulder a little rub. “if you feel like something else, you’re more than welcome to anything in our fridge. don’t tell aaron, but there’s frozen waffles in the freezer.” the thought of eating makes your stomach churn a bit, but you think you can handle something as simple as cereal.

“just cereal is alright, thank you,” you murmur.

“of course, sweetheart,” she smiles, grabbing you a bowl and spoon and letting you serve yourself. you sit at the table in silence, slowly chewing the food that takes a little bit like nothing to you. neither of them ask you anything or try to make you talk when you’re clearly not wanting to. aaron stands to put his bowl away and leave. haley watches with a sigh as you quickly stand to meet him at the door.

“please let me come with you,” you ask, letting a bit of vulnerability seep into your voice. “i won’t be any trouble, i just– i don’t know if i can sit here and do nothing.”

he purses his lips and studies you for a moment. sometimes it doesn’t help to have a family member hanging around as they search for someone. and sometimes they’re worse off there, too. but he knows you’ll listen if he asks you to just stay in his office and it might be good for you to see gideon. you’ve known him even longer than hotch.

“alright,” he relents, “why don’t you go grab a book, you won’t find the ones in my office to be any fun. get dressed quickly.”

you nod once and your thank you trails behind you as you rush off to change out of your pajamas. then you’re in his car on the way to visit the bau after a long time. you haven’t been to the office in over a year. sometimes you avoid it like the plague, other times you try to visit more often to feel closer to your father when nothing else works.

gideon is the only one who’s there before hotch. when you were a kid you thought he lived there. he’s quick to give you a kind smile and warm hug. aaron thinks the hug does do you good, though it makes you a bit emotional when gideon says your name and a simple, “we’ll do our jobs and take care of it.” then he sends you back to aaron with a firm pat on your back.

aaron keeps you in his office after that, so you don’t see reid or morgan when they arrive. you catch a glimpse of morgan walking across the bullpen when you look out the window, though. it’s alright, you don’t really know them as well as hotch or gideon.

it takes a few long, silent, and tedious moments for you to settle enough, but you somehow find it in you to read the book aaron advised you to grab. you don’t really pick up all that much, but it’s a distraction. you scribble on some loose paper with a pen you unceremoniously lift from his desk. it takes a lot less time to get an update than you though it would. your hope was running low.

but hotch shows back up not to long after and closes the door behind him. he sits next to you. you stare at your hands.

“our technical analyst, garcia, was able to track your mother’s phone. it’s not turned off… but if looks like our calls weren’t going through. she didn’t answer, but garcia’s number was able to call her. we should be able to get a hold of her soon,” he explains evenly, gently, as he places a hand on your shoulders. there’s something, maybe more, that he’s not saying and you know it.

“…why weren’t our calls going through?” you whisper, afraid of the answer. he sighs like he’s afraid of giving it to you.

“it seems like she blocked our numbers, honey. we’ll keep looking until we’re sure she’s safe and we get in contact with her, but right now it looks like she’s… well, it looks like she’s running. garcia tracked her to a town in western pennsylvania. she’s stopped for gas along the i-80. we called her job. she put in her two weeks at the beginning of the month,,” he tells you, both apologetic and matter of fact. his suggestion hits you like a punch to the gut. they’ve found her. that’s good. aaron thinks she’s running, presumably away from you. not good. unacceptable, you feel.

“wh-why would she do that?” you ask, voice breaking and turning teary much faster than you intended for it to. you’re a bit horrified, and maybe a little lightheaded from it too. you’re sure that this can’t be real.

“that’s what we’re trying to figure out. is there any reason you could think of?” he asks gently, trying not to make the question too abrasive.

“no,” you insist, a little harshly and vehemently that it makes you feel a bit guilty. you’re angry and upset, though. “you’re asking me if there’s any reason i could think of that would explain her leaving me? s-supposedly rubbing away like- like some kind of teenager? except that means leaving her kid behind without a word? after promising me she’d pick me up and take me to dinner, is that what you’re asking?” you’re crying by the end of it. you hate how your anger always dissolves into these stupid, pitiful tears.

aaron’s sorry that he asked, but it’s hard for him to believe it, too. he just wants to understand the situation. that’s how he figured out a way to start making it better. that’s his job. but he remembers that right now it’s his job to hug you. to tell you he’s sorry and that he’s honestly not sure what’s going on either. that he’ll figure it out, though, and get you back to your mom. maybe he’s not supposed to be completely honest, but he’s one for telling the full truth, so he tells you it might take time, but that he’ll be with you the whole time.

“i’m sorry, honey,” he says again. you cling to him and cry for a while. he fights the urge to check his watch and just keeps his hands cupping the back of your head and soothing up and down your back.

you want to argue with him. to demand further proof, to insist that she’s innocent, like you’re her damn lawyer and he’s her prosecutor. that though makes you cry harder because you’re her child and he’s only trying to help. and you’re just so tired. far too tired to say anything, but a pained “why,” mumbled into his chest. he’s not perfectly sure, but he’s spent all last night and this morning figuring it out. he wishes he’d paid better attention, tried to see her more and picked up on things before she actually skipped town. god, he feels so sorry.

“i don’t know,” he says quietly, a half truth at best. his whole job is to come to see and understand the why, and he has a few ideas, but it’s your mother’s job to explain it to you, not his. and his overly analytical conclusions, even if spoken gently, wouldn’t ease your mind one bit. “we’ll get her on the phone and we can ask her. we’ll figure it out. i want you to stay with haley and i until we’ve got everything sorted. is that alright with you?”

you wipe at your face and nod, still leaning against him. “okay.” you’re not sure how you feel about staying with your mother after all of this, even if she returns sooner than later. right now, it feels like aaron’s your only constant, even when he’s gone all the time. it’s just that he seems to come back each time, with a certain gentleness and the sort of soft smile that his coworkers don’t see very often.

then, you suppose it’ll be weird. aaron will be away from home most of the time, and it’s not as if you can spend your days in his office. so you’ll be with haley, who’s about to become a mother, and you wonder if that’ll hurt too much.

but at the end of the day, you won’t be alone. “okay,” you repeat, as teary, a little more relieved, because you have something. something to cling to, and it has to be enough.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner platonic fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotchner drabble #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch imagine

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starleska · 2 years ago

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If you're still taking writing requests, could you do possessive Wally headcanons?

*cracks knuckles* oh anon, i most certainly can 😈 yandere!Wally fans (me too 😳), this one's for you! (this is less headcanons and more a oneshot... kinda wanna write the whole thing 🙈)

content warnings for possessive behaviour, manipulation, threats, arson, entrapment and kidnapping!

Possessive/Yandere!Wally Darling x Reader headcanons

👁 it all started so well. Wally was a Darling both in name and behaviour, and you fell hard and fast. such an attentive sweetheart, from the moment you moved into the neighbourhood it was as if he were always at your side. anywhere else, you may have been unnerved, but Wally's simple warmth and easy smile dispelled all of your doubts. while you tried to spread your time equally between your kind new neighbours, you somehow always found yourself in Wally's presence, talking to him for hours.

👁 in time, you found yourself becoming bolder. you start returning Wally's curious glances, and soon allow your eyes to linger a touch longer than they should. curiously (and with a little bit of a thrill), you notice that Wally seems incapable of breaking eye contact - no matter how long you stare, he'll always stare right back, unperturbed.

👁 one day, you find yourself closer to Wally than usual. you're half-pressed against one another on your sofa, Wally's cheek nestled in the crook of your shoulder. he's drawing something in his sketchbook: an indistinct, wobbly shape that you can't make heads or tails of. while Wally's right hand scribbles furiously with his pencil, the fingers of his unoccupied left hand spill at your side, reflexively clenching every now and again with the automatic motions of his drawing.

👁 the closeness imbues you with a newfound confidence. you take a breath, steady yourself...and reach across, brushing your fingers lightly across Wally's own. Wally's eyes snap towards you. for a moment, his pupils blow so wide you think they might just swallow you.

👁 the next day, your house catches fire. such an incident is unheard of in this neighbourhood, and all your neighbours are horrified for you. however, Wally is strangely calm. "I'm sorry you lost so much," he says, still smiling. "Would you like to live with me?"

👁 you're shaken - but accept Wally's offer. the shock of the fire takes a few days to wear off, but nothing could be more unsettling than living in close quarters with Wally Darling. existing within the living, breathing (creaking? squeaking) walls of his Home has an atypical effect on the puppet. Wally's voice is lower, and he moves with more purpose, as if he and Home are one and the same: symbiotic entities which exist in tandem with one another.

👁 to add to your creeping sense of dread, Wally flips the script on your personal space. now he is the one letting his fingers slip easily around your waist, and fixing you with uncomfortable, impossible-to-ignore stares. you try to laugh off his behaviour, questioning him openly if he enjoys having you as a guest so much. for once, Wally doesn't smile when he replies, "I love you living with me."

👁 it isn't until a week has passed that you learn all the doors are locked, and Wally never gave you a key. you try wrestling with the door handle, but it doesn't budge. then you try the windows, but they're sealed shut. 'I'm not trapped!' you think to yourself. 'Wally is just being a good neighbour - he wants to keep me safe.' but that still doesn't stop you from panicking, scouring the house for the heaviest thing you can find and trying to smash the window. the glass does not break. Home suddenly groans with the sound of a thousand old floorboards and overloaded pipes - a dreadful, ear-rending noise - causing the glass in the window to triple in height and thickness right before your eyes.

👁 terrified, you scramble backwards to run out of the kitchen - only to run smack into Wally. you collapse to the floor and gaze up at Wally, standing in the doorway with his hands tucked behind his back, that cat's smile of his holds some private amusement.

👁 "did you try to leave Home?" Wally asks. "Silly, silly." he takes a step towards you, and then another - slow and loping steps, his cute puppet form now moving in a way equal parts unnatural and sinister. he crouches next to you, those eyes now whirlpools of void which obscure all but the slight white rim of his scleras. "Try again," Wally whispers. "I'd like that very much."

#hoo BOY i think i received this ask blacked out and then woke up with a book 🙈🙈🙈#this kinda stuff is my favourite so i hope you guys enjoy it too 😉#wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home #welcome home arg #starleskasks #starleskawrites #tw: manipulation #tw: threats #tw: arson #tw: possessive behaviour #tw: entrapment #tw: kidnapping #wally darling x you

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howtofightwrite · 10 months ago

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Have you read GRRM books? He claims swords needed to be “especially designed for women’s hands” how true is this?

About as true as all of those, “girl guns.” Because, as you know, a woman cannot hold a Glock unless it's pink or sky blue. Which is to say, not even remotely true.

You might get a situation where a child would be unable to operate a weapon designed for adults because the grip is too cumbersome, but even this is going to be something of an outlier. Even years later the Nicholas Cage's line from Lord of War (2005) sticks with me, when describing the AK he narrates, “...so simple a child could use it, and they do.”

Just like basically any other common grip you encounter in your daily life, from screwdrivers to steering-wheels and cell phones, selling smaller, or more colorful ones, is strictly a marketing gimick.

Now, is a legitimate context, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the wielder's sex. If they had the money, the time, and the desire for a perfect grip, they might commission a smith to produce a grip specifically for their hand. Though, the only place I've ever come across this was in competitive fencing. I have seen cases where someone modifies their blade's grip with tape or other materials to better fit their hand, or the addition of a leather (usually shagreen) wrap over their grip, but even that is somewhat unusual. (Shagreen is leather from a shark or ray, and it grips the skin, making it easier to hold, especially when wet.)

Ironically, girl guns do illustrate the one case where have some weight: Weapons as fashion accessories.

I know I've complained about weapons (particularly handguns) as fashion accessories in previous posts, but the truth is that using weapons like this is not new behavior. In the early modern era, one of the ways the rising middle class liked to display their status was with a sidearm. (In this case, referring to a sidesword or, later, a rapier.) I've looked specifically into women carrying sidearms at that point in history, but it really would not surprise me in the least if they did, and if there were, that at least some of those swords were specifically designed to be more delicate and, “feminine,” per their owner's tastes. (Though, to be fair, a more delicate grip on a rapier would be fairly impressive, as the grips tend to be pretty thin.) This is a case where you might want to look into it further, if it really catches your interest, but I've never really run this down before.

If you're still dubious, feel free to wander into nearly any HEMA event, and you'll have a better than average chance of a woman being willing to prove this idea false with a Zweihander, that may in fact be taller than she is. (Historically, Zwiehanders could be over 2 meters long, and chances extremely good that you're shorter than 2 meters.)

I know I'm regurgitating previous posts here, but it really is worth remembering that swords are much lighter than people think. Zweihanders are some of the heaviest battlefield swords from history, and even the heaviest examples weigh less than 9lbs. Women in HEMA can, and do, use them effectively. Swords aren't about being big and heavy, they're about being a (in this case) seven foot long razor blade.

Since we're on the Zweihander specifically (and this may also apply for some of the other greatswords, such as the Scottish Claymore), this is a case where you might have a custom weapon forged for you. However, in this case, that's more about the right blade length, then worrying about the grip being too thick or too thin. Ideally, you want the blade length to match your height (roughly), this is because of the drills with the weapon itself, though you could adjust to a longer blade if that's what you had.

Now, to be clear, the idea of someone, particularly a noble, having a blade custom forged for them specifically isn't strange. That's something that did happen, both at the noble's request, and also as diplomatic gifts from other nations. Examples of the latter resulted in beautiful art pieces that you would never take into battle.

If you had a situation where you couldn't use a sword because the grip was too large (for, whatever reason), there are ways to fix that. In an ideal situation, you could simply pop off the pommel and grip, and then replace the grip with one that was a better fit to your hand. If the tang itself was the problem (this is the metal core of the grip, and is part of the blade, which the pommel attaches to), you might be able to shave (or file) down the tang, and then replace the grip with a new one, fitted to the now smaller tang. I'm not particularly wild about modifying the tang directly, simply because there is a (minor) risk of reducing the structural integrity of the sword in the process. Though, replacing the grip (especially on a sword with a threaded pommel) is very doable, and unless someone, somehow, screws up catastrophically, it should be a pretty trivial modification. (Again, replacing a sword's original grip with a new shagreen grip does make a lot of sense if the owner wants that improved grip.)

But, to the original question, it's not really a thing.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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dinogoofymutated · 8 months ago

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THAT POST ABOUT CLEANING IN THE FLOWY DRESS? THINKIN ABOUT HANK? HNNNGGG PLEASE I BEG OF YOU

NSFW!Beast/AFAB!reader. - NSFW HCs! I was already on it when I got this ask heehee. These hcs were originally suppost to be part of another NSFW request I got for him but I was thinking about this too hard and comepletely forgot the actual theme of the req! So I decided to save it for later and just post it under your ask lol Anyway I need him my god. I was writing this while picturing watxm Hank but I'm pretty sure it works for any version. TWS: MDNI!!! smut under the cut. PNV smut. Eating out/head. Cum descriptions. Reader written with Fem in mind and also wearing a dress is mentioned, but overall no pronouns used. Creampie. Getting caught after the fact but not during the deed.

Okay, We all know that Logan has incredible stamina, and there's quite a few mutants that you would just expect that from anyway, but I'm 100% sure the one person that a good bit of people would NEVER expect to have insane stamina in bed is Hank. Like yeah he's nerdy, but dude straight up went to college on a SPORTS scholarship on top of his academic ones.

There is no fucking way this man has anything other than the most insane stamina. Dude is the perfect package of nerdy genius and athletic perfection. Can you imagine how long he could go on for in bed?? While you're sweaty and absolutely exhausted he's having the time of his life. Sure he's sweaty to but he's still. fucking. going?? It's like you'd been having sex for three minutes instead of four hours. He obviously gives you breaks and takes care of you, keeping you hydrated and such- but every time he begs you for "just one more". He's so gentle when he's gathering up your limp body and he's kissing your temples and forehead and massaging your tender spots, but he's a scientist at heart. He wants to know how far the two of you can really go, and he wants to know BAD.

I saw in a post somewhere on tumblr that he mentions that the one thing he doesn't have control of is his libido or something like that? It was from a comic snapshot so obviously this isn't even a hc it's fully cannon I don't make the rules.

THE FUCKING PHEROMONE THING!! For those of you who don't know, Hank was confirmed to have some minor Pheromone manipulation abilities. Like oh my god?? I definitely think that he will use it in sweet ways where he just wants some cuddles without asking you for them, but I feel like when he's hot and heated he just subtly does it without even knowing. Like he's super pent up one way and for some reason every time you greet him or pass him by you just start having more and more inappropriate thoughts about him. He'd feel so guilty if he catches himself doing it but at the end of the day, you don't really mind. Don't think too hard you beautiful big guy, can we just fuck already??

He will absolutely use his strength to hold you in any position possible. As long as you're both comfortable with it no position or hold is off the table for him. I don't think he'd be into BDSM or anything that has to do with hurting you, but I do think he's the type to read through the kamasutra and want to try all the positions to find the one you both enjoy the most.

He will fuck in the lab. He might do a whole "Oh my! Not in here, dear ;)" But most of the time he's instigating it! Sure he makes sure to lock the doors and everything but he's not shy when he has you splayed across his work tables, bent over you as he gently kisses and brushes his fangs over your skin. He likes how flustered it makes you.

He also cums A LOT. Like a lot a lot. He's most certainly got the heaviest balls you've ever seen, and they're not just for show. Every time he cums inside he causes you to practically overflow, and he's usually still cumming when he finally pulls out of you as well. He's a little embarrassed about it, and will clean you up very well because of that. He doesn't want you to deal with the sticky feeling of it drying on your skin, especially not if you have sensitive skin/texture issues. He is defiantly down to eat his one cum out of you though ;)

also, I think that he has a thing for long flowy dresses. I know there's a ton of dudes who say they like them bc of "easy access", and I know for a fact that Hank would find that sort of mindset disgusting. He just loves how beautiful and feminine you look in them, and also just happens to really enjoy the feeling of the fabric against his arms as he hitches up your skirt, his hands trailing up your thighs. As depraved as it might be, he also likes giving you head underneath your long skirts. He'd be apologising for being so ravenous and thanking you for letting him have you in such in intimate manner, all while giving you the most earth-shattering head. He's just so sweet about everything in the bedroom I swear.

You swear you didn’t fully expect to be in this exact situation when you were getting dressed this morning. Sure, you knew exactly how much Hank loved to see you in sundresses and were definitely going for a certain reaction out of him, but you never would have expected to be pinned against the wall of his lab, his large hands cupping your ass and thighs as he holds you suspended whilst using the wall as leverage. His thick cock is pumping in and out of you at a quick, needy pace. He goes back and forth from biting his lips and letting his moans and groans ring out and echo in the cluttered space. You’d never done this position before, although you certainly knew that Hank had more than enough strength to pull it off. Still, you were sure that the image of him fucking you, hands beneath your long skirt as it bunches at your hips and drapes down below you, was certainly a sight to behold.

“Ah- Please, let me know if this is uncomfortable in any way- nhg… I’m sure your anatomy is taking me quite… deeply, in this position.” Hank grunts, his thrusts deep and steadily paced in a manner in which he knows you like best. You smile at him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as your hands clench and unclench on his shoulders every time his thrusts catch you Just right.

“Is that what you’re calling it now? “Studying” my anatomy?” You muse. You wonder if he had noticed you catching on to the glances and stares he does when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You purposely poke your chest out as you mention it, and Hank huffs in amusement before he buries his face into your semi-exposed cleavage, licking and sucking as he shifts your weight onto one hand as the other takes hold of your cheek. He puckers your lips, nipping at the top of your breast before he pries himself away, sending you a smug smile as he leans in teasingly close.

“You know, I really think we could be using that quick tongue of yours for something a little more useful than backtalk.” Hank chuckles. He kisses you in a way that leaves you breathless, still holding you effortlessly even with a single hand as he keeps up his thrusts. His free hand drifts down to your clit as your walls begin to flutter and clench around him, a sign that he knows means you’re approaching your peak and fast. His kisses match the intensity of his hips as he closes in on his own pleasure. You cum barely a second before he does, his cum warming your insides as he cums, and cums and cums. He overflows your cunt quickly, and it drips down your legs when he pulls out. Hank makes sure to help you keep your balance when he sets you down, your legs shaking from your orgasm but also a bit numb from the position he had you in. He kisses you gently as you recover from your high, doing so over and over again all across your skin. The gentle touches make you giggle a bit.

“Had a feeling that we would end up like this today. Maybe I should wear dresses like this more often.” You hum. Hank chuckles deeply before drawing you into another sensual kiss, his hands stroking up and down your now-clothed body in a loving way.

“I wouldn’t mind testing that theory.” He says when he separates from the kiss. You shake your head at him, laughing a bit more as you cup his face with love.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” You say sweetly. Hank is smiling at you, his hands beginning to wander again right before the two of you hear a mortifying swish of the doors. Hank quickly tucks himself back inside his pants before the two of you instinctively turn to face the door where Logan is standing with a bit of a confused look on his face.

“Logan! We were just-”

“Hey, Logan! Nothing to see here!” Both of you are scrambling to fix the situation, utterly and spectacularly failing as Logan takes one sniff of the air and then smirks.

“I’m all for a bit of risk, but at least lock the door, lovebirds.” Logan gives the two of you a sardonic wave before marching straight back out the door. Leaving both you and Hank more than a little mortified. As embarrassing as it was, you can’t help but begin to laugh, Hank joining you as you shake off the adrenaline of technically being caught red-handed.

“Let’s go wash off before we have any other unexpected visitors,” Hank suggests. You agree wholeheartedly, your laughter picking up once again as he lifts you off the ground in a bridal hold to head to the showers.

#I do have to say he was definitely about to lift reader back up and eat them out till the cows came home before Logan interrupted #x men comics #x men #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #x men 97 #beast #beast x men #x men beast x reader #x men beast #x men beast headcannons #x men beast smut #hank mccoy #x men hank mccoy #hank mccoy x reader #hank mccoy headcannons #hank mccoy smut #wolverine and the x men

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arminreindl · 1 year ago

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I know I usually talk about crocs, but this is too good not to share. A new giant basilosaurid whale with weird anatomy from the Eocene of Peru. Perucetus colossus is a peculiar animal. It's bones were incredibly thick and incredibly dense, very much unlike those of modern whales and even more extreme than even those of the thicker basilosaurids (aptly named Pachycetinae i.e. thick whales). These adaptations have been compared to modern manatees and dugongs. Know the weight range is highly dependent on what you base the math on. Using manatees as a proxy, you get a weight of "only" 85 tons....using extreme values for whales a whopping 340 tons. Mean values for whales a still really big 180 tons. This could indicate that Perucetus rivaled the Blue Whale as the worlds heaviest animal ever.

The ecology is poorly understood tho. We know basilosaurids preferred coastal waters, and with all the similarities to manatees it is reasonable to assume that Perucetus was a shallow water animal itself. It also likely wasn't the fastest swimmer. And the lack of a skull basically means we can't say much on its diet. We can wager a guess and say it wasn't a predator because, you know....it also likely wasn't a grazer. Cool as it would be, we don't really have herbivorous whales like that so its incredibly unlikely. The two more likely suggestions are that it lived on small animals burried in the ocean floor, sorta like a grey whale. Or that it was a scavenger like a sleeper shark (tho I find that suggestion far less likely, giving me scavenging T.rex vibes ngl). But again, once we get a skull we can talk about this better.

Sidenote I do find the name a little underwhelming. It's a bizarre animal and the best we could come up with is "Colossal whale from Peru". I'm also not a mammal person, but from what I'm being told the silhouette is a little exaggerated and it wasn't necessarily that thick in life.

Life reconstruction by A. Gennari, paper can be found here A heavyweight early whale pushes the boundaries of vertebrate morphology | Nature

#perucetus #basilosauridae #paleontology news #palaeoblr #prehistory #eocene #early whale #evolution #science #whale

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moosesarecute · 1 month ago

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December 7th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Azriel’s letters to Y/N:

Are you out there?

Azriel opened his eyes and noticed he was in Madja’s clinic. He blinked a few times to get used to the brightness of daylight and slowly sat up.

His head was beating so badly it made him feel drunk.

“You’re on a strong pain relief potion,” Nesta told him. She sat besides him in a chair and read a book. “Cassian, Rhysand and Feyre are speaking with Madja and have been for the last two hours or so.”

Memories started to float back. He remembered the feeling of your mating bond, of your emotions. He dug deep into his chest and pulled on the tread, but as usual, it was nothing on the other end. Only darkness.

“They’re worried about you. We all are,” Nesta continued.

Azriel heard her words, but he felt way too drowsy and confused to answer.

Did he actually feel you? Or was he too far gone mentally that he just imagined he did?

It wouldn’t be too weird if he had actually gone mad. It had been seen many times before. Males losing their mates and losing their minds at the same time.

But he had thought he had gotten better. The first few months without you was torture, but he thought that with therapy and enough courage, he would manage to live without you. Apparently not.

“Are you okay?” he asked his shadows.

“Yes, master, but we felt her too. We truly did.”

Azriel refused to get his hopes up, but he had felt you. He felt your warmth. He could almost hear your laughter. Almost smell your comforting smell.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” Nesta said and reached for his hand. His shadows dried away the start of some tears he hadn’t noticed were starting at his eyes. “I’m here if you need something.”

He only nodded.

The door to his room opened and the rest of his family came in. Azriel saw many different emotions on their faces, but he didn’t bother analysing them.

“You’re awake! I’ll get Madja,” Feyre said and left the room again.

“How are you?” Cass asked him. Concern was filling his entire voice.

“I’m okay. Drowsy.”

He got no more questions. They stayed silent until Madja came. It seemed like they had a heated discussion before he woke, but he didn’t feel like asking about it.

Madja did her tests. She asked questions and he answered by nodding or shaking his head. Speaking felt unnecessary. She wanted him to stay one more night. He didn’t respond.

He had felt you. He you were back, for just a few seconds, and then he lost you again.

He felt the heaviest he had since the day you disappeared.

Annette woke in her bed. She laid under at least three furs. It took some time for her to remember what had happened.

She was outside. And she had passed out.

“Drink this” she heard Cathrine’s soft voice and soon a cup with her medicine was in front of her lips. She drank it all, even though it tasted almost worse than usual. Her chest was pulling and beating painfully, but the medicine helped a little. Cathrine’s hand was soon stroking her cheek. “Do you remember me?”

Of course she remembered her. Why wouldn’t she?

“Yes,” Annette answered, sounding confused.

“And what is the last thing you remember?”

She sat up slowly as she grew even more confused.

“I was out in the forest and passed out after my chest started hurting. What’s with these questions?” she asked, but her voice was weak from the pain.

Cathrine let out a relived laughter. She shook her head. It was almost like Annette had just told a joke.

“Something similar happened when you first lost your memory, Annie. We are so happy we found you faster this time.” Cathrine spoke as she carefully tucked Annette further into the furs. It was like she was trying to make sure she couldn’t move. “Stay here. I’ll get you some food.”

Annette stayed in her bed as Cathrine left.

“Something similar happened when you first lost your memory.”

She wished she could remember.

Last time, she had wandered out and passed out. According to her family, she would go out often, but always come back as evening got closer. When she didn’t come home, they went to look and found her passed out. It had taken days for her to wake up and she was panicked when she didn’t know who they were.

The passing out and the panic had damaged her heart. Annette held a hand above her heart. It was beating like it should. It comforted her to feel that her heart was fine.

She wondered what life was like before having any chest pain. She only remembered what it was like needing medicine every couple of days.

Just thinking about her medicine made the aftertaste in her mouth grow stronger.

She wished it was a different tasting medicine that would have the same effect. Annette had been on the same medicine for as long as she could remember. And even though her memory only went a little over three years back, she thought that three years without seeing a healer was long enough.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Annette hadn’t noticed Cathrine came back into her room. She was now carrying a bowl of soup. The heat was steaming up and Annette could almost feel the heat from just looking at it. She crawled out of her covers and reached for the bowl.

“Do you think I could go see a healer?” she asked carefully, but she was too invested in her soup to see how Cathrine froze for just a second.

“Are you okay? Does your chest hurt?”

“No, I’m fine!” Annette lied and tried to reassure her. “It’s just that my medicine tastes so bad, I was hoping there was a better tasting one I could try.”

Cathrine let her shoulders slump a little as she let out a sigh of relief. She then turned to look closer at Annette.

“I’m afraid not, Annie. We tried multiple medicines for you, but it was before you lost your memory. But I agree that it isn’t the best one. I have already upped the dosage for you.”

Oh, so that’s why it tasted worse than usual. It was just more of it.

Annette accepted the answer she got and ended up falling asleep after her warm soup was eaten.

She woke after a couple of hours. Her heart was beating and her muscles felt like she had just been running from her life. She stood up from bed but was too dizzy to walk. Her legs gave out and she just barely managed to hold on to the bed before she slumped onto the floor.

“Cathrine? Bru?” she tried to call out, but her voice was too weak.

She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs weren’t working. The room started to spin, and she laid down on her back.

“Annette?”

She heard Cathrine’s voice in the distance, but she was too weak to react to it.

Her vision was filled with black spots, and Annette passed out once more.

She dreamt a lot in this sleep.

She was flying over a beautiful city. The sun was shining, and she was laughing.

But she wasn’t alone.

She was surrounded by other fae like her. Their wings were magnificent. They were flying with her. Laughing with her.

She couldn’t see their faces or hear their voices, but they were there, and they knew her.

The wind was steering their direction as they flew. It wasn’t scary. It felt peaceful. Annette felt free. She felt as if everything she had ever missed was gone. She was where she was supposed to be. Flying.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn @mich0731 @tele86

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by @issysh3ll

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x original character

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