#as long as there was a compromise that he would go away at least once a day

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper!reader x undercover bodyguard!bucky)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[ronwestbreeze]

too slow

pairing: miguel o'hara x spider!fem!reader

warnings: angst heheh. spoilers! small scenes of somewhat explicit nsfw. mentions of death!

summary: the both of you would come back from this. you would...right?

word count: 4.9k

author's note: did i come out of hiatus just to post a angsty miguel fic? yes. you know i had to as y'alls fav angst queen

part 2

No matter how far you left that spider life behind, he somehow managed to pull you back in.

And god you tried so desperately to stay away. To refuse him.

Miguel O’Hara just had a way with you. He always did. 

Sometimes you wished you were stronger.

The moment you stepped into your apartment was when all of your senses struck your spine and made you freeze in your doorway.

No one else would have known to continue forward cautiously by leaping up to your ceiling and crawling the rest of the way into the apartment, high on alert. Then again, no one else was you. At least not in this universe.

Your spider senses got worse as you crawled toward your ajar bedroom door. When you were close enough, you dropped down as quietly as you could to the floor. One hand preparing a web to shoot and the other raising toward the door to push it further open.

Only you freeze all together.

A sharp tingle struck your back.

Behind you.

Of course, you were quick. Without turning toward the intruder entirely, you shot a web to grab a large vase sitting on a nearby table in the short hallway and swung it behind you. They dodged the vase just as fast and you instantly shot both of your webs toward the intruder. Only for them to be caught by them with both their hands.

“I’m disappointed, Domino.”

It was a mistake to let your guard down by only a little. It was a mistake to instantly recognize his voice.

“Miguel—AAARGH!”

A sudden yank from the webs caused you to fly forward until an iron grip wrapped around both your wrists. Until you were facing the scarlet and blue mask of the one Spider-Man you never expected to see again.

“Too slow.” Even with the mask, you could hear his smirk.

Now that you were aware of who you were dealing with, the tension in your muscles lessened. Just a little.

Some part of you wanted to say “You shouldn’t be here” but since you weren’t in the mood for a long and exhausting spout with the man, you took the more easy and straightforward route of the conversation.

“Why are you here, Miguel?”

His hold on your wrists loosened but he didn’t let go right away. Which was to your dismay as you really didn’t want to be this close to him. Not when you knew that both seeing him now and now having very little space between the both of you would compromise your senses, your steeled will.

And yet you didn’t pull away.

You watched quietly as his mask disappeared, trying your very best not to get too drawn into his features like you used to. Resisting the urge to run your fingers through his dark locks, tugging on some of them like the old days.

Stop.

That was a long time ago.

And it should remain that way.

Unfortunately, Miguel didn’t appear as strong or restrained. The way he hungrily looked at you wasn’t missed but it certainly wasn’t voiced. By either of them. That was something they wouldn’t touch right now. Probably not ever.

When his forehead gently brushed against yours, when his scent overwhelmed your nostrils was when you forced yourself back on solid ground.

“Miguel.”

Eventually, he also had to pull himself together. Eventually, he dropped his hold on your wrists and walked around you, putting a good distance between the two of you. Warily and curiously, you watched his movements.

He gestured toward the shattered pieces of what once was the vase, “I bought you that, you know. That was rude.”

“So is breaking into someone’s apartment.” You retorted dryly. 

Miguel suddenly took out a small object that shone in the gentle light of the sunset, “I still have a key.”

You huffed, “Imma need that back.” You tried reaching for it, only for Miguel to quickly yank it out of your reach, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face. That’s when you grew annoyed. 

“I thought you were never gonna come back to this universe again. Remember? You went on a whole tangent about it.”

“Mmm.” Was his response at first. You silently watched him tuck the extra key away into some invisible pocket in his suit. “That was only after you said you were never coming back to the team” You tensed at this as the memories came trickling back. “Or coming back to me—”

“So what’s changed?”

Miguel frowned, “I need you—”

“No.”

You reframed from smirking at the twitch in his jaw, at the way his trained mask momentarily slipped at your obvious stubbornness. You gestured in the direction of the front door, “If that’s all, the door’s over there—”

“It’s Electro.” That, of course—he knew it would—made you stop. It was your turn for your mask to fall, just enough for Miguel to notice as well. The intenseness in his features softened, “It’s your brother…he somehow made it into another universe—”

“When do we leave?” Miguel had the audacity to look surprised. You glared, “I’m not doing this for you, O’Hara. It’s like you said, he’s my brother. After that, I’m done for good, you hear me?”

With that, he schooled his face back to a controlled mask. One that meant business.

“Whatever you say, Domino.”

You wince and send him another glare before stalking toward your bedroom to change.

Ever since he started calling you that name, Domino, you’ve hated it. It originated from a mission gone bad—mostly for you—and he hadn’t stopped calling you Domino since. It was mostly because you had been knocked down into a bunch of trash cans that happened to be in a long line. 

Hobie said you tumbled like a stack of dominos. Miguel never let that moment go.

Fuck him.

Yet despite your hatred for it, you never discouraged it. You just liked the way he said it. You liked the way his voice softened whenever—

No. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck. Him.

After this you wouldn’t ever have to see him again. You wouldn’t ever have to be wrapped up in his shadows, in his overwhelming way of showing…

Fuck him.

It was odd being back in your old suit. Frankly, it felt dated as you swung around in it. There was an itching part of you that wanted to update it, get new designs, and test them out of your suit. Self-restraint was a challenge during that mission. Especially around Miguel.

Thankfully, Jessica and Hobie showed up so it wasn’t just you and Miguel facing Electro—or in other words your estranged brother. It was already enough having to face family drama, but then you add a frustratingly unlabeled drama that kept interfering with your focus.

“Stay on your side, O’Hara!” You snapped when you dodged an electric zap sent your way.

“Don’t be a child!” Miguel shot back.

“I’m not! We agreed Hobie and I’d take left and you and Drew would take right! You are not holding your end of the agreement!” You landed on a nearby pylon. “Which is no surprise!”

Another blast came from Electro, this time aimed at Miguel and Hobie. Hobie was able to swing out of the way and land on the same tower with you while Miguel landed on the other side, “What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“She means you’re an asshole, bud.” Hobie added.

“Nobody asked you!”

“Hey!” Jessica shouted from below, steering her motorcycle toward Electro, “Less fighting like children and more getting this guy before he causes the entire city to go dark!”

The fight hadn’t gone on for long. Eventually, you were able to confront your brother up close despite Miguel’s protests against it. Yet you were the one that knew your brother the best, who was he or anyone else to tell you what to do when it came to him? Certainly not, Miguel. Leader of a secret society or not, this was your turf. He asked you here and you would complete the job the way you knew how.

There was a point where you managed to get Electro at a somewhat calm and the thrilled part of you was ready to prove Miguel right. But unfortunately, family bonds wouldn’t save you in this situation. It wouldn’t tie anything up in the neat bow you were expecting.

The blast nearly threw you entirely off the building if not for a bunch of webs catching you in mid air and bringing you back up. Miguel and Hobie managed to subdue Electro thanks to your unintentional distraction while Jessica was the one to pull you back to your feet.

“Damn, babes, that was a close one.” She gave an amused smirk. “Just how long have you been out of the game?”

“Shut up, Drew.” You grumbled despite the other woman’s grin.

Coming back to HQ was the very last thing you wanted to do. But you wanted to make sure your brother was properly dealt with. Even if that meant dealing with Miguel’s bullshit along the way.

As you entered the computer room, Miguel’s mask came off, “What the hell was that back there?”

“Domino doing Domino things.” You mutter dryly.

“Yeah you are.” Hobie held up his hand for a high five, which you reluctantly gave.

Miguel sent him a scathing scowl before turning back to you, “You think this is funny? You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there!”

“I had it handled.” You gritted out, removing your own mask. “He didn’t need everyone coming at him all at once. If you had given me a few more minutes with him—“

“But we didn’t have a few minutes, did we?” Miguel snapped quickly.

“No, of course not.” You crossed your arms, ignoring how he stood taller than you. Ignoring how he would’ve appeared menacing if not for your pissed off mood. “Because everything has to go O’Hara’s way, right? Fuck everybody else.”

Hobie smirked from the side of the room, his mask also removed, “I missed her. ‘ow come she’s not around often, Bossman?” 

Miguel’s jaw twitched dangerously because they all knew Hobie never referred to him as “Bossman” unless to piss him off. because he knew that Hobie didn’t respect him as much, and didn't care for him as a leader. Bossman was just Hobie being a little shit, in Miguel’s words at least.

“It was fucking reckless.” Miguel seethed. “And as usual, you’re too immature to even realize what you did. What could’ve happened—“

“You brought me here!” You snapped back, as venomous as his fangs. “If you don’t like my way then you should’ve left me the fuck alone!”

“Guys, come on.” Jessica sighed, already used to the both of you like this.

Miguel was fuming and trying so desperately to hide the fact that you easily worked him up this way. And him failing at hiding it only made him pissed off even more. 

He hissed, turning his back to you.“I was being considerate. For your sake. It was your brother after all…It was a mistake bringing you in. I should’ve known fucking better.” 

A bitter laugh left your lips, “Finally! We can agree on something!” You stalked out of the room with Hobie trailing behind you—you were used to him following you around—as you muttered, “Let me know when you’ll be sending Max back.”

Just as you left the room, there was a loud crash and Jessica snapping at Miguel.

When your brother was finally sent back to your universe so that he could be sent to a cell powerful enough to hold him, you left HQ and didn’t look back when you did. Swearing to yourself that it would be the last time you would ever allow yourself to step back into that place. To allow yourself to set your eyes upon him again.

Unfortunately, that promise didn’t last too long.

Despite yourself, you started messing with your suit designs. Adding new stuff to make it look less dated than before. But that didn’t mean you were back to that spider life. No. Not one bit.

Hobie swung by your dimension and suggested that both of you went crime fighting for the day. And you only agreed just so your fighting techniques weren’t so rusty anymore. But you weren’t back in the game. Not one bit.

Then Jessica came to visit, claiming that she wanted you to see the progress in her pregnancy and catch up as friends. Which then led you to following her into another dimension to fight another Rhino, which was a great success.

Fuck, you missed this.

And you were tempted. You really were tempted to swing through your city as their Spider person again.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt after all. Didn’t mean you had to face Miguel. Yes. That was fine.

In the next month forward, you had started your crime fighting as the spider person of your dimension. A new suit and refreshed skills, you felt unstoppable. You even brought out your dimension traveling bracelet. Just to go and visit Hobie and Jessica whenever. Just that.

Soon, Jessica took on a new protege. Spider-Gwen. She was a nice kid and started coming over to your dimension with Hobie whenever they had the time. You liked her alot. She was like a little sister whenever she came around. Same as Hobie being like a younger brother to you.

At one point you found yourself back at HQ—you were honestly terrible at keeping your steeled will—but only to return a few bad guys to their respectful dimensions. You had fully planned on avoiding Miguel—at this point you hadn’t seen each other since your spat a month ago—and going back to your dimension.

That was the plan at least.

“How come you never go with us to see Miguel?” Gwen asked while the two of you watched one of the villains being sent back to their dimension. “You two don’t get along or…?”

Spider-Byte snorted and you sent the hologram a glare, “They have a special history, newbie. You’ll see someday.”

“Quiet, kid.” You mumbled, crossing your arms before addressing Gwen, “Yeah…we don’t get along. It’s best for the both of us that we aren’t in the same room together, right now.”

“Is it?”

You tried your very best not to allow your face to fall into shock at his voice coming from behind you and Gwen. Really, you should’ve expected that to happen.

Miguel approached the two of you, glancing briefly toward Gwen but his eyes remained glued to yours. “Drew’s asking for you. Says she needs your help on Level 4.”

It took you a few seconds to realize he had been talking to Gwen as the blonde nodded her head and disappeared out of the room. Spider-Byte threw on some headphones and continued with her work. In other words, it was just the two of you. The very opposite of what you had planned and wanted.

“I hear you’ve been coming around here a lot more often.” Miguel mused as he brushed past you, his arm grazing yours as he did. You watched him, a lot less hostile than you thought you would be. Instead, you only stared at his back muscles. “I didn’t know you’ve become quite the contradicting person.”

You shrugged, hugging your arms closer to you, “I’ve just been helping Jess and Hobie out. S’not a big deal.”

A sound came from his throat, similar to a chuckle, “I also hear that the White Spider is back on the news.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” You instead said, one of your brows raising slightly. “When did you start that up again?”

Miguel glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable, “Who says I ever stopped?”

You smirk, trying to hide how tight your chest felt at his words. At how soft his voice had gotten.

“Look who’s become contradicting now.”

Miguel was quiet at that.

You tried to continue your original goal after that frustratingly vague interaction. You weren’t really sure where you had stood with him after that. Sure, you still were hesitant to rejoin the society fully—mostly because of him—but now you were going on missions with some of the members and helping Jessica train her protégé. At this point, you were practically back, just without the official stuff.

And now you were on a mission with Miguel. You hadn’t been on one of these since your fight. Piece by piece you were just breaking your own promises, your stubbornness was weakening. Your spine had shaken.

Damn him.

No matter what you could never resist Miguel.

You could tell it was the same for him.

“You should go home.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve said that and I’ve still ended up staying?” You leaned on the doorway entrance to his quarters with a smug look on your face. “I think you should give it up by now.”

Miguel was topless. After a particularly long mission, a lot of the team had come out with some cuts and bruises, Miguel wasn’t exempt from that.

You watched as he was cleaning his wound on his left shoulder, only that put too much strain on his bruised side every time he reached his right hand over to tend to that shoulder. For a few more minutes you watched him keep going at it before you sighed and eventually stepped in.

“Stop.” You smacked his hand to the side gently and took the bloodied cloth from his hand.

Miguel tensed, “Domino—”

“I’ve got it.” You told him sternly. “We don’t need you reopening your stitches. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Your words had disarmed him and caused him to loosen the tension in his muscles at your gentle touch. The wound wasn’t too bad, at least not as bad as the one under his right arm. Once the blood was wiped away, there was just a bit of purple coloring. The blood must’ve been from someone else.

His breaths fanned against your own shoulder. You didn’t forget how close the two of you were in that moment. It was more like you were trying to distract yourself from the fact.

Instead, a small smile tugged at your lip, “It’s been a minute since you’ve been injured.” You noted the light scars on the other parts of his arm.

“Not really.” Miguel grunted, ducking his head down as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I got hit a couple months back. Only difference was that you weren’t there to lick my wounds clean.”

“Do you always need me to?” You joked halfheartedly.

A small tug upward in his lip made your heart skip, “I would prefer it better than being alone.”

“I thought you liked being a loner.”

“Not these days.”

You knew you were treading dangerous territory but the question left your lips before you could rethink it through.

“Did you really want me to go?”

Underneath your fingers, you felt him inhale, slowly.

“Honest?”

You scoffed, “I wouldn’t be asking if I wanted to hear a lie.”

Over his shoulder, he stared at you. A part of you wanted to shift under his intense gaze, a part of you wanted to look away sheepishly but you bravely held it. Though the change in your grip was probably a dead giveaway at your nervousness.

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have ever left my sight.”

You tried not to feel too overwhelmed by his words, knowing it was your own fault for asking. For even bringing it up in the first place.

So instead you snorted, “Wow. Sounds awfully possessive—”

His other hand grasped the back of your neck and brought you toward him, your lips connecting. His desperation for you was clear. And your resolve had slowly fallen—no that was such a lie. It had quickly crumbled the moment you felt his touch, the moment his lips were on yours, the moment you felt his desperation sink into your skin just as easily as his fangs would.

When his larger body moved on top of you, you knew your resolve had fully broken. Completely gone. When his lips found your neck, you were gone. When his hips rutted against yours, your mind was gone. When you finally felt him sink into your being, when you felt him inside you—god you never realized how much you had wanted this until now.

No. You knew.

Miguel held your hands down to the bed sheets, only you managed to slip them from his grip and find them tugging and running through his hair, legs wrapped around his hips to pull him closer.

You felt him smirk against your neck, “My stubborn girl.”

And just like that you were back into a cycle in which you swore not to fall into again. Only, this time the two of you didn’t make it known to the others. It was a silent choice between the two of you to keep whatever this was to yourselves. It was better that way you realized.

But as time went by, you knew it would be a little more difficult to hide it. Miguel was touchy. It was fine on days where it was just the both of you, when the both of you were working on something together. Yet on the days where you are around others, such as missions, you know he can’t help himself. And neither can you.

The both of you were terrible at hiding it in the end.

Hobie was surprisingly observant.

“You’re lookin’ cozy now.”

You glanced up to find Hobie lounging about as you were looking at videos of different dimensions. “Let it go, B—”

“I ain’t sayin’ shit.” He shrugged. “Just noticed a few things is all.”

And the two of you left it at that. Never really spoke on it again. Hobie now knew. And Jessica had eyes and a brain, she probably already put two and two together. Especially with you coming to HQ a lot more often now. Even the newbie, Gwen, took double takes every now and then whenever she saw you and Miguel together.

“You seem particularly stressed tonight.” You hummed to him on another night—this time in your apartment, squirming as his cock twitched inside of you.

Miguel looked down at you, a brow raised in challenge, “Can’t take it tonight, baby? Usually you like it a little rough, hmm?” He buried his face into your neck, his thrusts slower than before. Gentle nips at your neck that would sure to leave bruises the next day. Just the way he liked it. The possessive shithead.

“And yet, you’re still stressed.” You whisper next to his ear, breathing out a sigh of pleasure.

Miguel grunted in reply and remained at your neck. Until he slowly pulled away to rest his forehead on yours. He sighed against your skin, “Just another anomaly. Nothing we can’t fix.”

You smiled with a soft hum, “You always do anyway.”

His lips were pressed into yours, a hint of a smile shaping his mouth, “Not just me.”

The anomaly problem never went away it seemed. Soon Miguel got buried deep into his work. You were fine with it, already used to his committed work habits. Besides, you had your own world to manage. You weren’t just waiting all night for him to come home like some girlfriend slowly practicing patience. No, instead you had your own thoughts to keep you busy. But you still managed to find time and visit HQ. To visit the others. To visit Miguel.

It wasn’t until the anomaly was formed into a single person. Another Spider-Man. A kid.

Miles Morales.

Gwen told you about him a few times. How he was the first friend she made after her Peter’s death. You remembered wanting to meet the boy with how much Gwen kept talking about him. And you told Gwen this as well. That they should plan a day to go visit him. Unfortunately, that day never came to fruition.

The unfortunate part was the why.

“What are you not telling me about this Miles guy?” You already knew the answer. You weren’t stupid. You just wanted to know if Miguel would tell you. Would trust you with the information.

Miguel had his back turned to you, facing the screens when you stalked into the room to ask him this. “He isn’t your concern.”

“Bullshit.” You cross your arms. “Clearly, you said something to Gwen. And Jess. Hell, even Hobie. What are you not telling me, Miguel? Why is Miles Morales so important?” You narrow your eyes challengingly, “Or rather, why does he make you so nervous—”

“Enough, Domino.” Miguel said through gritted teeth, trying desperately not to snap at you. “He isn’t your concern. Let it go.”

Hobie had already filled you in on the details before you had come to Miguel about it. The information in itself was troubling, yes. But what was even more troubling was why you were hearing it from someone else other than Miguel. Why did he want to keep you in the dark about this?

That’s when your eyes landed on the old video of him and his daughter. The daughter he lost on another Earth.

“Fine.” You frowned. “Don’t tell me.”

Miguel still had his back toward you. You scoffed and turned to leave. You would’ve been fine to leave it there. That was the one thing the two of you disagreed on the most. The canon stuff. Your sister had to die for it. That’s why Max had become what he had become. That’s why you had left the society, left him in the first place.

Restarting all of this. Thinking you could forgive.

But there was no way you could’ve ever forgotten.

You had to stand by and watch your sister die because it was a part of canon. Because Miguel cared for you and your world so much that he did not want to see it unravel like his did. A part of you wanted to believe that—maybe there was a small part that did—but that didn’t change the grief nor the terror. You just hoped.

Hoped. And hoped. And hoped….

Eventually, you did some research for yourself. Apparently, this Miles guy hadn’t lost his parents but his uncle. Apparently, he was supposed to lose his dad once he became captain. There was nothing you could do about it if it was supposed to happen. You certainly couldn’t tell him that was going to happen.

You couldn’t do anything….

Until you could.

Hobie appeared in the middle of your living room that night.

“I quit that place.” He shrugged, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “But I suggest you suit up, yeah?”

“Why?” You furrowed your brows, placing down your book you had been reading until he unexpectedly arrived.

“Because I ‘ave a good feelin’ you are the only person that wouldn’t like what’s about to happen. What’s currently happening.”

This time you frowned, an aching feeling tugging at your chest.

“Hobie. What’s going on?”

It wasn’t long until you were flying through the HQ, following all of the spider people as they chased after one thing. One person.

Nobody had known you were there. Nor what you were there for. You had blended into the crowd of spider people, flying around, swinging around until you spotted a blip of the boy that they were chasing. And you saw Miguel, Gwen, and Jessica going after him.

All that you knew was that he was alone. The boy was alone. He needed at least one person at his side. One person who understood what he was going through right then.

By the time you had gotten to the speeding trains, Miguel had Miles pinned down to the top of the train. He had yet to see you. But there was no doubt he would sense you. There was no doubt that he would see your flashing figure, zipping toward him. There was no doubt that in the corner of his eye, he would see you flying at him with a kick and landing it just perfectly, and in time before he could prepare to block you.

Now you stood in front of Miles as Miguel rolled away before clawing his hand into the top of the train to keep him on it.

You removed your mask and grinned, “Too slow, O’Hara!”

“Y/N!” Gwen stared at you in shock.

“Who’s that?!” One Spider-Man with a pink robe—and a baby—attached to him questioned in confusion.

Miguel crawled to his feet. In the corner of your eye Miles jumped off the train and disappeared in seconds. “What have you done?!”

You shrugged, “Nothing yet. That depends on you.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Jessica shouted. “You can’t beat him!”

Miguel’s face was twisted into a scowl, mixed with both betrayal and anger, “She’s right, Domino. You can’t win. You’re on the wrong side!”

You pulled your mask back on and melted into a fighting stance, “I don’t have to win. I just have to give the kid more time.”

For a brief second, the scowl was gone. This look was only for you to see. The same look he wore when you first quit the society.

They were back to where it all began. This was the cycle. It was bound to happen. You knew this. He knew this.

“I don’t want to fight you.” He gritted out. “Stand down, Domino. I’ll only ask this once.”

Not once did you budge.

“I hope we come back from this, Miguel.”

You dashed forward.

Miguel let out a roar of anger and dashed toward you.

The two of you would meet in the middle. And for a second, you really wondered…

Would you? 

Would you come back from this?

[wwilsonbarness]

i messed up...

pairings:  bucky barnes x pregnant!reader

summary: you go against what you and bucky agreed, how will he react?

warnings: angst, pregnant reader, asshole bucky, none more i think?

word count: 1219

a/n: Bucky's a major ass in this but i have part two started if anyone is interested :)

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

part 2

masterlist

You didn’t mean to mess up this bad, you just wanted a normal day, a day where you could leave the tower alone without an Avenger there to protect you. 

You knew what you signed up for when you and Bucky became official. He had told you so many times that being with him put you at risk but you didn’t care, you loved him too much to be without him. He had insisted that since that day you would have someone there to protect you at all times, you knew it was in a loving way it was a lot to handle, and ever since you and Bucky discovered you were pregnant it had only gotten more intense. You knew it was for the better but it was suffocating you, which is why you went to the store alone this morning. It wasn’t far from the tower and you would be back within the hour, surely nothing could happen in that time?

On your walk home your phone started to buzz, and not just once but it kept buzzing until you opened the chat and the messages started loading in. They were from Sam, the first was a picture of you, from just 15 minutes earlier, you were reaching up to the top shelf in the store and your shirt had risen up, making your bump slightly more visible. How someone noticed that you have no idea. The rest of the text messages were fairly calm but the last one made you panic.

Sam

where are you? let me know you’re okay please Y/n are you safe?  He doesn’t know yet. 

Shit. Bucky was going to be furious at you, he had told you so many times not to go out alone because of this very reason. Now everyone was going to know that you and Bucky had a baby coming. You and Bucky had both agreed that you would keep your pregnancy between as few people as possible, for the baby’s safety and now you’ve compromised that. Only the other Avengers, your family and a couple of friends knew about it. 

Unintentionally you slowed your pace for the rest of your walk, sending Sam a quick text to let him know you were safe and on your way back.  You were scared to face Bucky but at least you could tell him yourself before he found out online or by Sam. 

It doesn’t take long even with your slow pace to get back, you hesitantly push the button for your floor, mentally preparing yourself for facing Bucky. He had been especially insistent on keeping your baby away from the public because of his long list of enemies and being a part of the Avengers meant that list was forever growing. 

When the lift dings and the doors open you pause for a second before stepping out, first you check yours and Bucky’s bedroom but it’s empty so you head for the common room. When you walk in Bucky’s there, as well as Sam, Tony, Natasha and Steve. At first glance things look normal, and no one notices you walking in until you speak. “Hi..”

That’s when Bucky turns around, his jaw was clenched together, brows furrowed, anger practically seeping out of him. He knew. You want to apologise but you can’t manage to get any words out. A few seconds pass before Nat’s voice breaks the silence. “Are you okay Y/n?” You nod towards her, fidgeting with your fingers trying to distract yourself from the shouting match you knew was about to begin. You’d seen Bucky angry before but never this much and never because of you. 

“Bucky, I’m so-“ You couldn’t finish your sentence before he interrupted you 

“Did you not listen to anything I said to you? Did you really just ignore everything? I told you this would happen but what? You just did it anyway?“ 

“Buc-“ He wouldn’t listen, his words were spilling out of him. He didn’t even know what he was really saying. He was just so scared and angry at himself for not protecting you and your baby. 

“You’ve seen what the people we deal with can do and you still acted like a complete idiot.” You could hear muffled sounds of Sam and Nat trying to stop him from going any further but all you could focus on was Bucky’s words.  

“No. How could you make such a careless mistake?” 

Your eyes were growing wetter with each word he said but you tried to keep yourself composed. You didn’t feel as if you had any right to be upset, you were the one who messed up. 

“I wasn’t trying to..” You attempt to interrupt him and defend yourself but at this point you knew that was pointless. 

“I mean seriously,” He pauses for a moment, contemplating his next words, “it’s like you don’t care about our baby at all.”

Oh. That one hurt. He had to know you cared right? Your baby was everything to you. Could he really think you didn’t care?

Tony had stayed quiet up until now. “Enough James!” He screeched from behind Bucky, “I won’t let you talk to Y/n like that, either calm down or leave my tower.” 

You knew he was going to be angry at you but you were not prepared for this much of it. Bucky stares at you for a few seconds before he walks out, dropping his head down to your stomach and scoffing as he does so. Now it wasn’t just anger you felt from him, it was disappointment too. 

You can’t bring yourself to move from the spot you’ve been standing in since you arrived, the only thing breaking you out of your trance was someone’s hand on your shoulder. You weren’t sure who until they spoke. “Y/n? Are you alright?” 

It was Sam, you manage to turn to him and stutter out, “I‘m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He brings his hand up to your head and pulls you gently towards him for a much needed hug. “He’s not angry with you, he’s just scared. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“I just wanted to do something for myself, I don’t want to have to rely on an Avenger everytime I want to go to the store.” 

“I know, he shouldn’t have gotten angry like that. I’m not making any excuses for him but he’s never felt love like he does for you. You and this baby are everything to him, he’s scared to lose you.” 

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Your voice is quiet, almost too quiet but Sam can just hear you.

“I know he will, he just needs some time to cool down.” You nod your head against Sam’s chest, part of you knew Bucky would forgive you but an even bigger part of you believed you had messed up too bad. 

You reach into your bag and take out the small white teddy you bought, when you read the words printed on its tiny outfit you start to cry harder. It read, “Best Dad Ever”, you just hoped Bucky would forgive you so you could give it to him. 

If you could go back to this morning and change your decision you would. You just want things back the way they were. 

[lure-of-writing]

Little sister: Knock before you enter

Summary: Maybe Rhys should knock before he enters

Word count: 1.6k

Rhysand had many titles and jobs he was required to upkeep and fulfill. The most daunting title of all; your brother. And as your older brother it was his job to keep you happy and safe but how is he supposed to do that while being high lord, tending to his court, being a new father and a good mate. It was safe to say that he had been falling behind in that area of his life and by no means were you upset with him. Truthfully if Rhysand was willing to admit it to himself you were probably happy to not have him breathing down your neck every two seconds but as your older brother he couldn’t let his lack of time keep him from checking in on you. 

Flying to the house of wind he greets Cassian and Nesta in the kitchen having breakfast after what he could only assume was a long training session. Of one kind or another. “Good morning, have you seen my sister by chance?” He stopped to grab a piece of fruit that sat in the basket on the counter. Nesta shook her head in a no motion while bringing her cup to her lips to take a sip. “She wasn’t at training this morning.”  his general responded. It wasn’t unusual for you to skip training every now and then but since befriending Cassian's mate you made it more of a point to be consistent in your routine. Something most definitely had to be off. The high lord nodded at his family members and silently made his way to your bedroom and once your door handle was within reach he pushed the door open without any thought. 

The second his eyes took in the scene before him, he really wished he would have knocked. At least to give Azriel the chance to winnow away before he caught the two of you in a compromising position. “Well good morning to you too.” Your light laughter felt like a slap in the face and your brother directed his gaze to the ceiling. Azriel said nothing as he continued tightening the lace of your corset as if this was another normal day for the three of you. It in fact was not another normal day for the three of you.

In the middle of the room stood you and Azriel. Your back facing him while he gently pulls the strings of the fabric together in hopes of tightening the fabric to be flush with your body. Neither you nor Azriel seemed fazed by this arraignment. Rhysand made a mental note to ask his shadowsinger about that later. Right now he was trying to find a reason as to why you felt comfortable wearing nothing but this corset top and underwear in front of the man he considered a brother. He would also have to ask about that later. 

Coughing Rhys found the bravery in himself to look at you again for a mere seconds before shifting his gaze to literally anything else in your room. “Azriel, why are you helping my sister get dressed?” Before his friend could answer you jumped in to answer for him “Because I can’t tie a corset by myself, obviously” for a few seconds you watched while your brother tried to find the right words but by the time he had found them you were already strutting across the room and into the closet to grab the skirt that matches the outfit. Putting it on before him and the spymaster. Effortlessly you pulled it up and around your waist while turning once again to give Azriel access to tie the strings of your skirt together and complete your outfit. “And where exactly are you going where you need an outfit like that?” nothing about your outfit was revealing but it was definitely one of your nicer outfits for sure. Once again your laughter rang out into the room filling it with undeniable warmth. “Fatherhood sure has made you quite forgetful hasn’t it?”  Rhys tried to rack his brain for any reason you would need to be dressed up and he couldn’t find any. Maybe fatherhood has made him forgetful. “I’m going to visit the summer court and try to fix our relationship with them and since you are quite forgetful today, here is your reminder that Az is coming with me.” Silently the two male lock eye contact and Rhys raises a brow in questioning. Az titled his head slightly in a questioning manner. “You really want your sister going to another court alone?” 

Sighing a hefty sigh which Rhys was sure would be the first of many today he shook his head. “Of course I don’t want her to go alone. I just don’t recall telling you to go with her.” Confused, Azriel asked “Who else would go then?” And honestly Rhysand had no idea. 

After one week which felt like forever knowing you were alone with his shadowsinger the two of you had finally returned. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust the two of you but he couldn’t help but remember you curled up a little too comfortably in the spymaster's lap during the family dinner and now he walks into your room and there is Azriel helping you get dressed while you're basically naked. Something about that made his stomach queasy. 

After you had debriefed with your brother about your week, your very exciting week at that, you had made your grand exit to your room to wash away the day of traveling you had endured while Azriel gave him his report of your experience. After explaining everything the two males once again found themselves in the same situation as a week ago. Silently observing each other waiting for someone to make the first move. “Would you like to explain why you were in my sister's room helping her get dressed last week?” Az said nothing for a minute while staring at his high lord. “Like you said I was helping her get dressed.” Rhysand couldn’t help the scoff that slipped from his lips in disbelief. “Az I’m not stupid. I know something is going on between the two of you just please be honest and tell me. First she sits in your lap which sure isn’t unusual for her but then when I go to get her up from you, you don’t let me. Then at the court of nightmares, which don’t get me wrong I am eternally grateful that you protected her but then she kisses you like her life depended on it and leads you off to gods know where and now I find you in her room quote unquote helping her get dressed while she's basically half naked. I would be lying if I said this didn’t make me mad but  I really just want you to be truthful with me.” 

Azriel knew just how bad it seemed to anyone but the two of you but listening to Rhys list off all the stuff he had seen you two do, did seem a little suspicious. But truthfully he could say that nothing was going on between the two of you. Sure you liked to push the boundaries of friends to lovers quite often but it was always with Azriels concent and permission and nothing more ever happened then what Rhys had witnessed. Azriel respected Rhysand in more ways than one and part of that meant never crossing the in your relationship into something more as much as Azriel really wished he could. Some part of Azriel knew that you were meant for him but he knew his high lords stance on either him or Cassian dating his little sister. And it was never an option because Rhysand would never allow it to be one. 

“Rhys, I respect you which means I also respect you that don’t want me to date your little sister. I would never do anything to cross that line and I honestly try not to but you know you sister. She likes to get under your skin and since Cassian can’t help her achieve that goal anymore she comes to me. If it truly bothers you that much I will talk to her and put it to a stop. As for last week, after training I was the first one back down into the house and she simply asked for my help. At first I denied but once she brought the corset out to show me how complicated it was I agreed to help her, nothing more was going on I promise.”

After a long and much needed talk with Azriel, Rhysand had finally made it back to his bedroom and his wonderful mate. Once the couple had caught each other up on their day things started to escalate and before he knew it he was starting to undress Feyre. Suddenly the bedroom door slammed open and there you were standing in the entrance of his room staring at him expectantly. After a very lengthy pause of the three of you glancing at and forth at each other you finally speak. “Rhys what are you doing? Feyre is a grown woman she can undress herself. She doesn’t need your help.” with an exhausted sigh you watch as your brother rubs his weary face. He knew exactly what this was about. “Maybe next time you'll knock before entering.” Feyre watched as you turned around and left as if you had not just barged into their room. Without saying anything to her mate she raises an eyebrow in question as if to say “What was that about?” Sighing once more Rhysand just shakes his head before face planting into their bed. Exiting his house you make your way to where Azriel was waiting to fly the two of you back to the house of wind “Maybe next time he’ll actually knock.” The gentle laugh of the shadowsinger caressed your heart as he scooped you into his arms and took off to the sky. That was not before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @gorlillaglue25 @willowpains

[blackberries45]

Time to Pay Your Dues (Beetlejuice Drabble)

Beetlejuice x reader

Notes: Mentions of bra/underwear/boobs but no gender mentioned.

Spelling and Grammar ain’t my thing, chicken wing.

No Smut but implied heading that way

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time you really did catch him off guard. He was too busy staring to be able to stop you before you said his name thrice. Now he was just biding his time. You hadn’t caught on yet, but you weren't faster than him in the least. He was just letting you play this little game. He knew it had to be benefiting you in some way and it most certainly was benefiting him. A dead guy can only take being teased for so long though.

******

For weeks you've been playing a nasty little game with Beetlejuice. The first time you pulled it after a mischievous thought had popped in your head stepping out of the shower. Just as you were wrapping yourself with the towel, you called out his name. He was so caught up in the moment of seeing you starting to drop the towel that you banished him as quickly as you had summoned him. You cackled all the way to your bedroom and the game began.

You had managed to do it three or four times more. Each time either in a compromising position, like leaning over to grab something off the floor and your butt in the air or were in the middle of changing. You even managed to ask him once while putting on a dress if he thought it was pretty before sending him off again. You knew it couldn't last long but it lasted a lot longer than you thought possible. This time had to be the last. You could only imagine what he’d do if he stopped you from saying his name and sending him back.

*****

The matching underwear set was hot and you knew it. You had never bought yourself anything that looked quite like this before and currently had no one to share it with. Truthfully you bought it just to pull this last tease, if you were being honest with yourself. This would be it. The grand finale. It was perfect. He would lose his ever loving stupid little dead mind and you couldn't wait to watch his face. You positioned your hair and pulled your boobs up in the bra cups. Next you adjusted the panty straps just perfectly on your hips, approving of the view in the mirror. It was clear by now that Mr Beej didn't care about your stretch marks or your weight, he devoured you visually just the same each time. God you'd be thinking about this forever. Was this little game starting to turn you on? Before you lost your nerve and talked yourself out of it, three times that ghoul’s name left your lips.

Usually Beetlejuice's preferred method was to startle you or at least appear somewhere unexpected. This time, he was right in the doorway where you had hoped he would be. He was leaning against the casing perfectly, with one boot resting against the bottom of the door frame and his other leg slightly forward to push his weight back. Removing the cigarette from between his lips, he ever so slightly started to turn his head. If the light hadn't been just right to catch the glint of his blue eyes, you wouldn't have noticed that he was drinking you from the bottom to the top. Nothing about him moved besides his eyes and a slight flick to his cigarette. He took another drag and let it out, staring at you now. The gulp you made was audible and you were starting to lose your nerve.

“Do you, uh, do you like it? I got it on sale. I've never bought myself a matching set like this before but I figured it deserved to be seen by someone else who would appreciate it” The nerve came back and the smugness dripped off of you as your head slightly tilted to the side. The corner of your mouth started to go up in a slight sneer. You knew in half a second what you were going to do but truthfully you were expecting a little more reaction from him. This was taking away from the game. Was he disappointed? As the excited smile started to fade, the words started forming in your mouth but he already knew what was coming and was prepared.

Instantly what felt like a shoelace tied your lips together. You put your fingers up to your mouth in pure surprise, eyes wide as you started to panic. Beetlejuice turned away from you, taking another puff of his cigarette and letting you mumble under your restraint.

“I think I've had enough of your little game there, babes” He flicked the cigarette somewhere unseen and started walking towards you. You couldn’t help but feel some tingle of turn on even as your protesting noises became louder.

Pulling at your lips you found an end that you could start to pull. You looked down at your fingers as you started to yank on the string. Before you could continue however, in one snap of his pale long fingers, you heard the bedroom door bang and suddenly you were slammed into it. His hands were on your ass as he pinned you up against the door. You couldn't help but brace yourself on his shoulders and your face bent down to his. Still wide-eyed but mouth no longer sewn shut, you gulped again.

“I don't like being repeatedly teased without a payoff. So honey, it's time to pay your dues.” He leaned into your neck, kissing it lightly once and enjoying feeling you shiver. “Good thing you bought this on sale” he snapped your underwear band with a lazy finger against your ass “because it won’t even be worth free when I get done ripping it off you”

[cinnamonroll-anon]

lmk request!

wukong and mac (separate) had a nightmare and s/o came to comfort?

a/n: thank you both for the request! Since you both had the same prompt i decided to just put the two together! Sorry for my long absence have some comfort for your heart!

Terrible Visions: Sun Wukong x Reader, Macaque x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: angst to fluff, comfort (giving), mentions of violence and mentions of death. SEASON 5 SPOILERS! (not much but will brush up on events that take place!)

Sun wukong:

Honestly, what hasn't come back to haunt the infamous monkey king? Behind his usual suave facade, he was constantly stuck in his own head, thinking about his past and what problems could await on the roads ahead. If we're being honest here, he's stressed of having to save the world or having to face his own mistakes and shortcomings. He can never live down his own choices, not entirely at least. There would always be a whisper of doubt breathing down his neck, it would never fail to make him feel ashamed of himself. Luckily for him, he can play things off perfectly and no one would know any better from his usual laid back attitude. He wouldn't allow anyone to see the burden on his shoulders, or see how weary he's grown over these recent months. Well, everyone else except you.

You have been with Wukong for a while, so you're no stranger to his attempts at keeping you at an arm's length. It was a prominent problem in your relationship. He simply wouldn't tell you what was bothering him, even if it was something so miniscule that you could stop doing. Nowadays, he tries to open up to you and to express himself to the best of his ability. It was a promise you both made to each other as your relationship continued to flourish. He'd communicate with you and you'd understand him and try to meet him in the middle. It was a fair compromise that has saved your relationship on multiple occasions.

It took a great level of trust for him to feel like he could share his worries with you, he didn't want to trouble you... At least it was partially true, especially with all the guilt that's been dying to swallow him whole. He felt as though he had dragged you down into a mess like he did with MK, and that he was the one to blame for all of his suffering, as well as yours. Another part of him wouldn't allow him to love or care as deeply as he used to. Not again because, he knows what love really leads to... To pain. He had promised himself once in the past to not let his heart suffer again, to never go through another heartbreak. It was that promise kept getting in the way with his new ambitions and his heart's desire. To be with you.

Unfortunately as all things do, these emotions build up, and when they resurface, they present themselves to the great sage as he finds enough tranquility to sleep at night. He could only keep his thoughts to himself until they started pouring into his subconscious. The nightmares weren't as frequent but they'd manifest horrors that would leave him restless and fearful. Even in his slumber, he couldn't find rest.

Maybe he would be trapped in the mountain with no one to talk to, feeling condemned, forgotten, unloved and lonely. He'd stay there, unmoving and vulnerable for eternity. Perhaps it would be all the splitting headaches with his circlet, punishing and agonizing. No matter how much he begged for it to simply disappear, the torment would only continue. He would dig his nails into the groud, clawing into his head in desperation, howling in pain and sobbing for anything to stop it. He'd never find that solace here.

Maybe it was the day he struck Macaque. It would always be the same outcome, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. To change it. His body would move without his permission, his mind torn in-between this urge to kill him and hopelessly trying to stop himself. He saw his old friend laying beaten down, he watched as Macaque tried to move to get away from him helplessly. Was that fear or hatred he saw in his eyes? He couldn't tell before he felt the way his staff punctured through his eye, cracking entirely past his skull. No matter how many times he'd watch the scene unfold, it never ceased to be any less gut wrenching when he drew the final blow. It was all worse when he could smell his blood, practically taste the hot irony liquid in his tongue.

Sometimes it was failing MK. Failing him as his mentor. He knew he wasn't the best at teaching, honestly it had stung him when MK searched for guidance in Macaque. It just didn't help ease his nerves or reassured him that he was doing the right thing. He's put the kid through so much, yet he always kept his distance from him. He couldn't afford for him to get close, not again, not after everything he's been through. MK sacrificing himself was painful to watch, and luckily for him, he'd get to relive that moment. One second he was contemplating losing his Immortality and his life, and the next that familiar excruciating pain would crush his head again. He couldn't't move to save him, to sacrifice himself instead. The worst part was seeing that look on MK's face through his tears and screams. He almost lost him, but in his dreams he wouldn't come back, and in his eyes his world would still remain shattered.

The lady bone demon's control was the worst dream he could ever be faced with, because instead of any other circumstances hurting his friends, he was killing them all... One by one. A ruthless frenzy and an unstoppable slaughter, all for her destiny. Her voice would pound against his head and her command over him was absolute. He couldn't even cry if he wanted to.

He'd wake up in cold sweat, lunging to sit up and gasp for air. He had startled you awake, promoting you to wearily sit up with him.

"Wukong? What's the matter?"

He gripped his heart feeling it's frantic palpitations as he took harsh breaths. Maybe, the worst nightmare of all... Was losing you. He condemned his head for getting so creative with ways he could lose you. Meanwhile, you observed him, trying to read his expression. You sat there for a minute before you gently placed your hand ontop of his own.

"Wukong-"

"P-peaches, hey y-yeah, sorry about that! Just ah, y'know ehe thought i lost my streak. And to Macaque no less!" He answered with a strained smile, you could see a him covered in sweat.

"Uh-huh, so you're expecting me to believe that you're this worked up... About your videogame?" You deadpanned as you were fighting to keep your eyes open. With or without them open you can hear how shaken up he was.

He stumbled over his words and another half assed excuse before taking a deep breath and looking down at his hands.

"You're right- It, It wasn't about videogames... I had another nightmare."

You noticed how fragile his voice sounded, that and how ashamed of himself he looked. Was it his pride or perhaps it was the horrible attempt to brush you off? It didn't matter to you in the moment as you gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey, that's awful. Do you want to talk about it? Or maybe cuddle-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he quickly pulled you into a tight embrace. You gradually hugged him back, wrapping your arms around him, gently rubbing his back in a comforting manner. You could feel his racing heartbeat against you, how ragged his breathing was before they began to even out. Much of your relief, he was slowly calming down. His tail wrapped around your waist, giving it a tight squeeze, trying to ground himself in the present.

"It's okay Wukong, you're safe. I'm here for you, thank you for telling me. I want to help you with things like these, okay?"

"Even if i wake you up in the dead of night?" He spoke through a chocked sob, he was trying really hard not to cry, but it was so hard when you were so willing to sacrifice sleep and time just to help him. He tightened his hold on you, burying his face against your shoulder, either for comfort or to hide his face from your view, you didn't bring it up as you placed a kiss to his head.

"Yes Wukong, even if you woke me up at four in the morning," You replied with a chuckle. "I'd rather have missed a little time asleep than having you dealing with a nightmare all alone. Especially if I'm already here for you."

He shook his head as he let out a heavy sigh, you could feel your shoulder getting wet by his tears. After his initial fear had finally passed, he began to move again. He first placed his hand behind your head before he hesitantly pushed you away, only enough to look into your eyes. He mused to himself how sleepy you looked, before remembering he was the reason you were so worried about him now and awake.

"I'm sorry... you shouldn't be up at this hour Peach, i didn't mean to-"

"It was a nightmare Wukong, you didn't exactly plan it." You interrupted him as you delicately held his face in your hands, "Besides I already told you I'm not going anywhere. Im sticking with you no matter what, be it sickness, a nightmare or the world ending, again... I'm with you Wukong."

He swore he could barely blink back the tears in his eyes threatening to pour again. Despite it all you, were still here. You stayed by his side. You were still kind and loving to him, even if he wasn't always as vulnerable or open with you. You were more than willing to help him through it, to save your relationship... to save him. That was so brave of you, he hoped you knew that. He wished he could tell you, but he wouldn't say it... not today at least or now. He smiled warmly before laying back down, pulling you into his arms as you laid your head on his chest. He held you close as he felt himself become more tired, but before he could close his eyes again you pressed a lazy kiss against his lips.

"I love you Wukong, goodnight my love." What wonderful words to hear, he thought to himself, before finally letting his muscles relax and his jaw unclench. He finally felt safe and loved... all in his beloveds arms. He truly felt like everything would be okay. He looked down at your already sleeping form, god, you must've been truly exhausted he thought to himself. He waited a bit until he knew you were sound asleep, not taking any chances to wake you again, before he placed a loving kiss against your forehead.

"I love you too Peaches, if you only knew how much you mean to me... Goodnight love, see you in the morning."

Macaque:

He's more open to you about his nightmares. You've been with him for this long, so he trusts you're not going to hurt him when he lets down his guard. You've proven yourself to him time and time again that you won't take advantage of him or harm him. On the contrary, you treat him with compassion and respect, even when he has felt undeserving of your grace and patience. Youve always so considerate and understanding to him. He swears he doesn't deserve you, he knows he's definitely not the best guy around, but if you stayed this long and showed him you're not going anywhere, then he'll be damned if he doesn't try his hardest to appreciate you and show you how much he cares about you too.

But his nightmares are a sore spot for him, especially telling you what happens in them. He'd rather forget they happened at all, but those images in his mind refuse to leave him. Why must he be reminded of how much he suffered now that he's living a better life? He's gotten close to wukong again, albeit the two still bicker, but he knows now that wukong trusts him. It's a work in progress, but their relationship was mending slowly, it all starts with a little bit of trust. And then there's you.

He'll admit that he wasn't planning on ever having a partner, with all his issues, he considered himself the least qualified in the romance department. And yet there he was, spending his days with you happily. You had even stayed with him while he was on flower fruit mountain, you would enjoy the cuddle sessions the little monkeys had with Macaque. Even if he wasn't all too thrilled with the arrangement but, he couldn't deny how adorable you looked with the little ones clinging to you.

It's been a little over a day or two since the pillar of heaven was restored, you and Macaque having been enjoying some down time from the world's end. It was such a shame that in these peaceful moments his mind would still be plagued with these horrible nightmares. Even before he met you they were quite common, it made his lifestyle change as he avoided sleep, staying up throughout the night until eventual exhaustion would overtake him. If he pushed his body to the limit the chances of having a nightmare would decrease. Not the healthiest choice on his part, but the one that has worked for him over time.

But that all changed with you. You have given him a safe space, a home he could call his own. He trusted you and he let himself relax around you, and this would cause him to fall asleep at a more reasonable hour. He was still a night owl but it was harder for him to stay awake when you were so close to him, so warm and peacefully asleep. He couldn't overcome the temptation of resting alongside you. Although that peace would be short-lived.

Every bad experience he's had gets relived and reimagined in each nightmare. The most common type is getting betrayed. It ranges from getting abandoned and feeling worthless to being used for someone else's benefit. If he's had a nightmare of you betraying him, he would be a bit distant. Luckily he was willing to talk with you about it, in which you reassured him that you just wanted to be with him because you loved him. You weren't going to leave him or cheat on him.

Another common nightmare he's had was recollecting the day Sun Wukong not only turned on him, but killed him. It was always a brutal but hopeless cause. His heart was heavy with how wukong so easily sidelined him, how everything they had been through meant nothing. That he no longer meant anything to his friend. This dream was too realistic, he could feel every strike and how tired he was becoming. Nothing he could do was enough. Not against a force like wukong. The most horrid part was when he finally looked up at wukong in defeat only to be met with an agonizing pain to his eye. This nightmare would cause him to wake up yelling and holding his eye, feeling the phantom pain the dream left behind.

The least common dreams he had that would leave him mortified were the ones of the Lady Bone Demon. Being forced to do her will or have his life taken away from him again. He thought he was clever losing the key, but somehow she always escaped. Having the slow threat of her crystals on his body being a horrifying experience, especially the days in which he would become paralyzed in fear, going stiff in his sleep. Sometimes she would make him kill Sun Wukong and MK and there wasn't any fire of Samadhi to save him from being entirely consumed by her will. The worst one of all was when she found out about you, sending macaque to kill you, her champion didn't need any distractions after all. No insignificant mortal will stand in the way of his destiny.

Macaque would jolt awake, taking in gasping breaths before looking around the room. Hed sigh in relief, he was home, he was safe, just another stupid dream. He'd stay awake in bed, looking up at the ceiling in hope's of falling asleep. He couldn't shake the vivid images from his mind and he felt agitated and restless, he couldn't sleep again. He then looked over at you and the sight warmed his heart a little. You were peacefully asleep, it was a miracle his sudden movement didn't wake you, but he was silently grateful. Hed hate to wake you up since you looked oh so blissfully asleep. He couldn't do that, not to you. So he decided to discreetly get out of bed before using a shadow portal to drop himself into the couch. It was a better option than having to maneuver himself quietly through the room with you soundly asleep. Waking you up was simply a chance he didn't want to take.

He would sit in silence on the couch simply trying not to think about whatever dream plagued his mind. At first the silence was normal but he quickly found out how not wanting to think of something made you think of it more. The silence would become unbearable so he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He opted to mindlessly watch tv, turning the volume down to the lowest possible. It was the perks of having six ears.

You woke up, having stirred from your rest at the lack of his presence. You drowsily felt his side of the bed. It was empty, so you sluggishly got out of bed to look for him. He could hear you coming towards hims, yet his entire focus was on the nonsensical noises of the TV, he couldn't bother to pay attention to what was happening. You eventually made your way over to him and plopped yourself down on the couch next to him. You leaned against him, laying your head on his shoulder. He went tense at the sudden contact, not like he wasn't already stiff as a board as he tried to force his attention away from his own thoughts.

"Hey Honey, what's got you up so early?" He asked casually as if he also wasn't up at four in the morning.

"I didn't feel you in bed with me anymore... Are you okay Macaque?" You fought off the drowsiness in your eyes, but leaning against him and feeling his warmth was lulling you back to sleep. No, you had to make sure he was alright, sleep can wait. You slowly were able to get your hazy mind working before you felt how stiff he was against you. He usually eased up to your touch by now, even when he was caught by surprise.

He notices your discomfort before he wraps an arm around you, slowly relaxing against you. He gave you a soft smile as he took in your sleep ridden state. It was heartening to him that you missed his presence, even when you were asleep. But he wasn't exactly thrilled that he still somehow woke you up, but having you with him did relieve him of his worries.

"Sweetheart, listen... I'm sorry for leaving you alone but i just... Had a nightmare and i didn't want to wake you up about it. But i still did." His answer was honest but filled with disappointment in himself. He really wanted to handle it by himself, but a part of him knew he could never ease his mind the way you could. Having heard his explanation you leaned into him, giving him a tender hug. He's still for a moment before he finally wraps his arms around you tightly, allowing himself to be comforted by you. You gently ran your finger through his fur, it was like your every caress alleviated his aching heart and it wasn't long enough until he began to quietly cry against your chest.

"I-I didn't want any of this to happen... I didn't want to go through with it, I had to-" He murmured against you. You could tell it had been a horrible nightmare, especially if it broke him down like this

"I know baby, but you're not there anymore. You haven't done anything, you're at home... It was only a dream, you're safe... I'll keep you safe." You quietly reassured him, calming his anguish and placing kisses where his tears ran, gently wiping them away with your thumbs as you held his face. It was when you held him so close that you noticed it. His glamour was off. You could see his six ears, all the scars on his face and his eye, you wondered how you didn't notice it before. Then again being awake at four wasn't exactly peak conscious behavior and it was still dark, the only light being the dim glow of the TV.

Macaque felt safe in your embrace, enjoying the sound of your voice. He would normally be uneasy listening with all of his ears, but your voice was like a serene river to him, calming and comforting. He would gladly listen to you talk for hours about anything, but when you directed it at him and used it to ease his pains, it was simply heavenly.

After a while of hugging he thinks you might've dosed off then and there.

"Hey darling, are you still with me?" He asked quietly as he gave you a soft shake. The only response you gave him was a low, albeit late, hum of acknowledgment.

"Yeah, yeah, wide awake." Which ears a soft chuckle out of him before makes sure you're secure in his hold. Before you can ask if he wanted to head back to bed, you feel a swoosh before having landed on the soft and familiar mattress. You weren't even going to lie, his shadow portals were convenient. You probably wouldn't have made it back to the room with how tired you felt.

"A heads up would've been nice." You mumbled against him.

"Nah, I'm sure you could've handed it." You could practically hear his signature smirk in his tone.

"What if i couldn't and it scared me?" You joked as you pushed yourself away from him, earning you the sight of his handsome grin and un-glamored glory.

"Come on sugar, you're telling me you're scared of a little gravity. You'd think you'd be used to it by now." He chuckled as he patted your head before ruffling your hair.

"Hey! My hair, you're messing it up!"

"You have the wildest bed-head baby, you should be thanking me."

"Oh, I'll give you a thank you, alright. Keep this up and I'll smother you entirely." You challenged him with your own mischievous grin. He didn't believe your little threat for one second.

"Oh really? I'd like to see you try~" You then held the sides of his face before pulling him into a barrage of kisses. He's caught by surprise, unable to get away from your devoted kisses. He nuzzles against you trying to fight off his embarrassment, but you're so cute and oh lord, he feels like he's malfunctioning. Even after all this time he wasn't immune to being overwhelmed by your affections, having gone most of his life without them. Eventually you slow down your kisses, instead you poured out adoring words about every feature you love about him before giving it a kiss. You took your time, letting him know how much you loved him with each soft murmur and soft peck. That you loved him dearly and found him captivating, even with his glamor off.

"I think the scar makes you look hot" you ended off on, trying to brighten up how he might've felt about his appearance.

"Oh really? Is that so?" He smirked before finally wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against him to cuddle. You soon felt the familiar sensation of his tail curling around you protectively. You both held each other tenderly and you leaned closer to leading him into a slow kiss. Your lips molded into each other lovingly, parting to look into each other's eyes with nothing but adoration. You trailed your hands through his hair until you reached his ears, gently scratching the back of them and caressing them. He let out a content huff before resting his head against your chest, closing his eyes, allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep by your warmth and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. You place a final kiss against his forehead.

"I love you Macaque, I hope you only have sweet dreams tonight." He didn't need to when his time awake with you was his greatest dream come true.

"I'll always love you, thank you my love." That was all he said before pleasantly falling asleep, safe and loved in your embrace.

back

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request headcanons for Wyll, Rolan, and Zevlor react to being stuck in close proximity with gn crush?

Warnings: None!

Notes: These may be a little short/uneven, but these were so cute to write!! Anon, you've become such a prominent asker, that I'd love to give you a nickname of some sort, if you're comfortable with that! <3  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Wyll

Wyll is a gentleman about the whole situation - or at least he tries to be. He gives you as much space as he is able to, even though he's squishing himself into a corner, he's more than happy to do that so that you're comfortable.

He tries to keep up conversation with you, to try and distract from the somewhat uncomfortable situation; mostly mundane questions, like 'What's your favourite...' or 'Have you ever...' It's also partly to distract you from the fact that his cheeks are burning hotter than the hells. Who'd have thought it'd be easy to fluster the Blade of Frontiers, even if it were only slightly, by being so near to him?

He cannot take his eyes off of you. Not even for a moment. He tries, at first, but finds it astronomically difficult, and eventually just gives in. He loves gazing at you - your presence brings him such peace, even in such a compromising position such as this.

Once the two of you are found/make your way out of the confined space, Wyll apologises - even though it was not his fault - and offers to make it up to you at some point, by however you see fit.

Rolan

Rolan is entirely speechless. He cannot find the words to say anything to you, not even a half-handed snappy quip. His eyes rarely meet yours, and are rather more often aimed off to the side, or somewhere above your heads. It's... Quite awkward.

You try anything to break the silence between the two of you; "Can you move your leg, please, Rolan?" Followed by a quiet shuffle as Rolan tries to move a little bit further from you but still remain comfortable. It is of little use on either front, but he tries. Any question of "how are you feeling?" Or "You okay?" is met with either complete silence, or a quiet grunt of acknowledgement.

Rolan doesn't know what to do, he's never been in a situation like this before - much less a situation where he can't find the words to express himself. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, harder than he can recall it ever being in his life. He's entirely tense, and he has no idea what to do; his normal confident facade has completely crumbled away, leaving little besides anxiety, and a slightly fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever you speak.

The first chance he gets after the pair of you can separate, he all but disappears from view - for several hours. You had wanted to talk to him about it, but couldn't find him anywhere. Eventually you do find him, but as soon as you bring up the situation, he turns his gaze from you; "I... Would rather not dwell on the situation... If it's all the same to you." He's just too flustered still to be able to process any of it.

Zevlor

Zevlor is constantly asking how you're feeling. "Are you sure you're well?" followed a few minutes later with, "Is there anything you need? ... Yes, I am aware I can't go and get anything, but I'm sure you understand the sentiment..."

He constantly asks you if you're alright, comfortable, etc. Neither of you know how long you're going to be stuck in this situation, so is completely understanding of the constant need to shuffle to keep your limbs from going dead. This being said, he'll always tell you if he's going to try and move himself, just so that he can try not to kick you, and you can brace yourself just in case of this outcome.

He tells you of his time in Elturel before it's descent into Avernus, his time as a Hellrider, all sorts. He finds it very easy to share things with you, since he's so sweet on you - it would usually take some probing for anyone to get that kind of information out of him. But, since he would like to establish more of a relationship with you, he's willing to part with some of it.

Once the two of you are out in the open again, Zevlor double checks that you're okay. "I would have hoped to have had some of those conversations in a more... Traditional way. But, I suppose, one cannot deny the deft hands of fate, hm?"

[yandereforme]

Yan! Mafia! Batfam AU Dynamics

Part 1

TW: Murder, violence mentioned, light mentions of assault, torture, kidnapping

Also, since ages are weird in DC canon (often conflicting) I’m assigning my own choices

Bruce

Like I mentioned in my earlier post, Bruce started working towards controlling crime at a young age. He first gets the idea after his parents died, and slowly over the years he starts cultivating skills that would later become useful(fighting, intimidation, deceptive things that you can do that aren’t exactly illegal, etc.)

He still takes that backpacking trip, and he still meets the league of assassins and has his affair with Talia. The reason he returns to Gotham isn’t a crime as vigilante. It’s to fight crime his own way.

He takes on a persona as the bat, no one knows his face or real name. He garners a lot of attention from criminals, and often steal men from people who he defeats to work lower level jobs(Think Red Hood’s system)

The rugs in the say, you are a mixture of actual criminals, and alternate mob bosses. However, Bruce still keeps the Bat and Bruce Wayne very separate, though he does not utilize a Brucie persona. Instead, he makes himself seem more quiet and soft-spoken so people tend to overlook him.(Bruce does not realize that his persona is someone that is one bad thing away from going full on crazy. Everyone in high society knows something is wrong with Bruce Wayne, and just does not comment on it.)

Bruce still has his no kill rule. That does not change, but any enemy of his will tell you that there are worse things than death.

He is 23 when he adopts 8 year old Dick Grayson.

Dick

Dick joins not long after he does in canon, or at least he tries to. After he figures everything out, he confronts Bruce and says that he wants to be a part of the business. He wants Zucco‘s head on a stick. Bruce gets him to compromise. They will capture Zucco and after a few years of training, Dick will be allowed to do what he wants and take on his own role. 

For a few years, he takes the role of Robin, a terrifying person who has seen as Batman‘s little shadow, constantly following him, and smiling brightly enough that people will forget about the blood covering his knuckles.( some believe he gives the smiles that Batman never has. Others believe he is the one thing that keeps the Bat from killing.)

As he grows, Robin’s persona of a vicious, smiling distraction slowly morphs into an amazing fighter who smiles unsettlingly and bends in a way that does not seem entirely human.(about 60% of Gotham’s criminals believe that the bat and robin and all of their associates are not human. Most of them of them think demons of some kind, though there is a smaller portion that believes that they are embodied souls coming back to enact justice)

Nightwing is not a reality in this world(since that is a story learned from Superman.) Instead, criminals learn to fear Nightingale, a distractingly, beautiful person whose voice tends to make you mesmerized so you don’t see the bloody intent behind it. The underground calls him a siren, and Dick is very good at making people tell him what he wants to hear.

In this AU, he switches to Nightingale after Tony Zucco is finally killed. Bruce had kept Zucco in a cell for years, until Dick was old enough to do what he originally wanted. Dick kills him in an act of final revenge, wearing his family’s colors. After the death, he decides he doesn’t want to dirty those colors anymore.

It becomes a commonly known fact that Robin doesn’t kill, and neither does the Bat. But once they get their own costume, you have to be cautious of the fact that some of them don’t have a no kill code.

Dick is 17 when 12 year old Jason is adopted

Jason

Instead of stealing from Batman, Jason is caught stealing tires of Bruce Wayne’s car. The rest of the interaction follows canon though.

Before Bruce formally adopts him, he tells Jason who is surprisingly okay with it.(Jason grew up in Crime alley. He knew what the Bat did with the worst of the worst, and how the Bat made life more live able.)

He and Dick don’t get along in the beginning, but after an attempted kidnapping at a gala, they get better.

The two incarnations of Robin are very different. Dick’s Robin was loud and haunting in his joy, beating people bloody with a smile. Jason’s Robin was softer in a sense, brash but polite. He was careful to only injure in places that they could recover from, and helped a lot of the victims(people whispered that he was the innocence that Nightingale had lost, that the Bat never had.)

The only people he didn’t care about hurting were the abusers and assaulters, men drunk on power. (More and more people started believing the re embodied souls theory with Jason. He seemed the most human of all the Bat family)

Then, when Jason was 15, he was kidnapped as Robin, and Gotham was never the same.

Note: Thank you all for being so interested in my writings. I don’t know if this is good or not, I’m sick at the moment and just wanted to finally write this. Let me know what you think!

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Akatsuki Headcanons: Halloween with their Darling

Featuring the Akatsuki and how they would spend Halloween with a Darling that loves the spooky season!

Itachi

Itachi is rather introverted and doesn't like parties or loud events. He could, of course, put on a smile and interact with anyone if it was for your sake, but he will be looking forward to being alone with you once again. Plainly put, he has no interest in other people.

He finds your excitement cute and might suggest that you spend a quiet evening in the graveyard, feeding the ravens and discussing horror movies and literature. It's peaceful, comforting and fitting. Oh, he just loves hearing your voice.

Truly, what could be more romantic than debating ghoulish matters among the dead and decayed? For Itachi it is a statement in itself, that your love prevails over everything. Perhaps even foreshadowing, if anyone ever dares to interfere.

Kisame

Kisame will be happy to comply with any proposal as long as you're by his side. That's really the only requirement for his successful Halloween. If you prefer larger events, he will dutifully keep suitors away and allow you to mingle with your friends. Otherwise a cozy evening indoors will suffice.

Now listen, when it comes to horror movies I’m sure the first thought is usually Jaws. But I had this picture in my head: watching Silent Hill with Kisame and getting him to dress up as Pyramid Head. If there’s a costume party happening, he’ll be right behind you in that bloodied up apron and great knife dragging along.

In fact, you could even go for a matching costume, such as Bubble Head Nurse. Kisame takes his role very seriously, so naturally once you’re alone he might just do what Pyramid Head does. You can tell he’s been looking forward to it once his imposing gloved hand is around your throat, grip tightening in anticipation.

Sasori

Sasori will be against any social event, so you better not pester him with any of those annoying Halloween parties. He does not care for it and he finds it an utter waste of time that could be spent with you instead. Why do you need the company of others?

If you must celebrate in some way, he’d much rather compromise on some quiet, cultural activity. Perhaps some museum exhibition, or a candlelight organ concert in a church. Even better, a horror movie at home so he doesn’t have to worry about perverts eyeing you.

I like to think he’d enjoy Tim Burton movies. They’re artsy and tasteful and a lot of the recurring themes might pique his interest. You’ll finish watching Edward Scissorhands and notice he’s been thoughtfully gazing at you for some time. Is anything wrong? Not really. He’d just been pondering that you won’t be allowed to grow old. He’ll make sure of it.

Deidara

Deidara is a thrill seeker and will absolutely share your enthusiasm for Halloween. Costume parties, haunted houses, amusement parks, you name it. He loves a good scare and might even compile an elaborate list of activities to make sure you have the best time. Truth be told, seeing you enjoying yourself might be the actual highlight.

He won’t mind, however, if you’d prefer a less intense evening. There’s plenty of things to do away from the crowd, such as pumpkin carving. He’ll do his best to impress you with his artistic skills, presenting highly elaborate carvings, often depicting your favorite things. He lives to entertain you.

If he thinks about it, this is a perfect opportunity to prove to you that really no one else compares. His love for you is unmatched. And as he likes to say, the holiday isn’t complete until it ends with a bang ;) (Had to make the joke)

Kakuzu

Ugh. Kakuzu just dreads the upcoming holidays. It’s all puerile, commercial quackery and he does his best to ignore the nonsense. Or he used to, at the very least. As much as it irritates him, your disappointed expression might be even more unbearable. He does have a soft spot for you, after all.

So fine, go ahead. Do your silly little Halloween shenanigans. As long as he doesn’t have to deal with other people. It’s really just the best for everyone involved. You wouldn’t want some poor soul complimenting your outfit to immediately meet their demise at the hands of your intimidating boyfriend. His patience might be thin, but when it comes to you it’s basically nonexistent.

Ideally it’ll be just you and him. Graveyards, horror movies, haunted houses, pumpkin patches, whatever your little heard desires. If he’s in a good mood, he might even be willing to don a matching costume.

Hidan

Given Hidan’s beliefs, he’s not very impressed by some pagan invention, although he does enjoy the activities that come with it. It’s his guilty pleasure. Especially because he gets to see you all dressed up.

That might just be the main reason, really. You. He loves seeing your excitement and would do anything to entertain it. He enjoys social events where he can show you off, but doing things alone as a couple is also perfectly fine. Okay, if he’s entirely honest, he would very much like to parade you around as his.

All the gore and the terror really gets him into the mood. By the end of the day he’ll be a starved man, and you can be sure that once he gets his hands on you it will be a bloody, scratching, biting mess. He’s probably the type to suggest you do it in a graveyard for the thrills.

Pein

Pein pretends not to care, but he is very much aware your favorite holiday is approaching. He’ll prepare weeks in advance to make sure he won’t have any paperwork or surprise missions. The day will be entirely dedicated to you.

He will either quietly follow you around to whatever plans you’ve made, like a loyal dog, or will conjure his own activities in case you didn’t expect too much productivity to be possible. Oh, the things he’ll do for your sake. Anything for a glimpse of that genuine smile.

You’re quite amused by the fact that Pein retains his serious expression no matter what jumpscares come your way. Impressed, you can’t help but ask him: “Is there even anything that frightens you?” And he won’t have to contemplate an answer for long. Naturally the thought of losing you. All the other artificial horrors pale in comparison. But you needn’t worry, he will never, ever allow it to happen.

Konan

Konan is only mildly excited about Halloween, but she will never say no to spending time with you. Additionally, it comes with the opportunity of doing arts and crafts as a way to relax. Forget buying decorations, she’ll be crafting the most exquisite garlands and ornaments you’ve ever laid eyes on.

She prefers to keep to herself. If you desire to attend a social gathering, she won’t downright refuse, but she’ll maintain her distance from the crowd and count the hours until you’re alone and together.

I feel like she would treat it as a spooky Valentine’s Day. She’ll show up with an elaborate gothic bouquet of flowers and a card quoting your favorite horror book or movie. “I have crossed oceans of time to find you”, as she lovingly once read in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. You’re her very own undying romance.

Tobi

You might think you’re excited for Halloween, but it quickly fades when compared to Tobi’s enthusiasm. Before you can even mention it to him, he will present you with a full itinerary of things to do together. He has been counting the days, constantly daydreaming of having all the fun in the world with you.

Similarly childish is his possessiveness. You find his little bouts of jealousy when you’re among other people terribly cute, as he pouts and tries to drag you away, reminding you dramatically that he’s your Halloween date. Only him.

Although you’re taken aback by his abrupt change of tone, when at some point during the night the silly threats turn into a deep, jarring voice demanding your undivided attention. Surprised? It’s a holiday of frights, after all. Perhaps he’ll show you how scary he can be if he wants to.

[letorip]

Lorraine Day Headcanons? :))

lorraine day headcanons

very fun to think about and heavily inspired by romeo and juliet, i know other people had also requested i do headcanons for lorraine but i was just gonna do the one, so if people want more lmk. you might be a bit crazy but whatever

sorry for the wait btw this was requested a looong time ago i believe

you and lorraine have been aware of each other since childhood, but you don’t ever interact or become something even close to friends because of a very simple reason: your parents absolutely despise each other, and have since you moved there

it doesn’t matter that both your family and the day family are farmers, or that the town is very small— it’s functionally split down the middle, in allegiances to each side that only worsen with time

you have your friends, lorraine has hers, and you both know to stay very far away from each other, even if you’ve never actually interacted much

though you don’t speak to one another, you have your minds made up about each other. lorraine day is condescendingly smart and ambitious, and all the time she spends silently under RJ’s arm is also spent judging you with her eyes. you, on the other hand, are overconfident and idiotic, and you spend any time you haven’t got your hand down a girl’s pants doing something stupid with your friends

of course, neither of you have actually spoken to the other long enough to actually see if you’re correct in your evaluation, but you also know speaking would be a minefield, what with cousins and friends who are just as passionate about the divide as your parents

you only actually meet properly for the first time at a high school party that’s getting busted by the local sheriff for getting too loud

immediately once the sirens go off, you’re running through the woods, chucking the half empty beer can over your shoulder and racing into the trees

you wind up hiding in one, well hidden up in the branches, easy to climb but not to see, and you wait in the dark as you watch police flashlights comb through the forest in the search of teens

you don’t know why you do it, but you can see the police closing in on lorraine, and though it can compromise your position, you reach down from the tree, whisper “up here,” and yank her into your hiding space

you’re definitely both extremely wary of each other in the spot. you keep glancing in the other’s direction like you think she’ll betray you or you’ll betray her but neither of you say anything for another hour until you’re sure they’re all gone

when she does get confident enough to speak, lorraine whispers “thank you…” softly in the night, and you do a double-take because you thought she would yell at you or something

you start talking, and go to help her down from the tree. you start walking back in the dark, towards the parking lot where a bunch of kids put their trucks, and the both of you are just chatting normally. about school, life, family stuff, anything

it definitely catches you both off balance because, well, neither of you seem unpleasant. you’re not stupid or hyper-sexual, and she’s not condescending or judgemental

the moment RJ finds you both, though, all hell breaks loose. he’s rushing over and tearing lorraine away from you, like you have the plague, shouting at you to “stay away from her!” and asking her if you did anything to her with your filthy (L/n) behaviour, and he has jackson and bobby-lynne there to back him up

it’s jarring to say the least, and you both stumble away from each other in a daze, to find your own friends watching lorraine suspiciously

both yours and lorraine’s parents are furious when they find out what happened (your best friend told yours and RJ told lorraine’s), and they warn you about each other, even after lorraine and you repeat over and over again that you were both nothing but pleasant and helpful

you see her again at school, but her friends are giving you death glares just as your friends are giving her death glares

you wind up talking under the bleachers, away from everyone, and you find you’re both just as pleasant as you were at the party

lorraine is intelligent and kind, along with incredibly introspective, and you’re funny and caring, and just a fun person to talk to. it’s refreshing and also a little strange, and you’re both trying to reconcile how the other isn’t some cruel monster your parents described them as

you sneak out back to the same woods as the party and talk to each other almost every night. she tells you about how she’s not entirely in love with RJ and hasn’t been for a long time, and you tell her about how you want to get out of your small Texas town and make something of your life. it’s like there’s a magnetism pulling you towards one another, and though it’s definitely star-crossed, considering your parents’ hostility, it also just feels right

lorraine is the one to kiss you. you say something silly about your car tire and how your idiot friend blew it out, and she’s just watching your lips as you talk until she can’t take it, and just reaches over and kisses you

you end up with your back to a tree and it definitely goes way past that lol

you hate having to hide your relationship from everyone else, so you decide, rather quickly, that you both want to run away together

you formulate a whole plan about how you guys will leave town suddenly, together, and leave a note for both your parents, saying you’re safe and in love

RJ tries to stop you after he finds it, saying you’ve done some sort of witchcraft on lorraine to brainwash her. he tries to attack you, but lorraine cracks him over the head with a baseball bat, and hops quickly into your car

you definitely drive off into the sunset, lol, surprising every person in town who sees you driving away together

after long enough, your parents reach out about wanting you to come home and that they want to make it all work between the families, as much as they hate each other

you live happily ever after? idk, maybe i’ll do a part 2 or make this a story

get ready cause i might be posting 2x tonight

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 22

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: addressing what happened, here comes the comfort, then fluff wc: 2k

Chapter Selection

Jason led me up the stairs and down a long hall to his bedroom, shutting the door behind us with a soft click. The room was clearly not used often; he was a tidy person, but this was a whole other level of tidy, and there were no personal touches around the room that immediately jumped at me as being his. He gestured to a pair of armchairs by a bookshelf, and I collapsed into one, shaking.

He scooted his chair closer to mine, sitting so our knees were almost touching. “Doll? Why are you so upset?”

“... Do you remember last night?” He nodded. “... Then why aren’t you? I broke your trust, in several ways last night. You should be furious with me…”

He held a hand out for me, and I slowly let my hand slide into place in his. “No, you didn't. You proved exactly why I trust you. And I’m not angry. … I … I knew the longer I waited to tell you, the more likely it became that something like that would happen. … I didn’t mean to let it go so long, honestly, it just … never felt like the right time. I’m so sorry you found out that way, I know that was … incredibly uncomfortable…”

“Wha- … Jason, you have nothing to apologize for; I am not entitled to this information,”

“No, you are. You have been dating me without knowing who you were dating for months. From the day we met you have been in so much more danger than you knew, and I did nothing to change that because I wanted to pretend to be normal… You said you took my choices away last night, but I’ve been taking your choices from you for eight months. At least when I put my life in your hands last night, I knew who I was trusting. You have not had that once in this relationship, and I’m so, so sorry for that…” He sighed, squeezing my hand firmly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself, I just … didn’t know how. … I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you now … I have never felt safer than when I look in your eyes, and if you can forgive me I swear I will never keep anything from you again.”

“… Me forgive you? Jason, there's nothing for me to forgive, I'm the one who should be begging your forgiveness…”

“There’s nothing for me to forgive either. When I saw you in that alley I knew everything was going to be ok, in a way I never have before. Anything that happened to me from that moment on was only going to happen after you okayed it; I knew you wouldn’t let them hurt me, and … I needed that. Because, as much as they love me, their love can be a bit … aggressive at times. They know they’re right, so they don’t care if I’m resistant. I’m just … broken, so it doesn’t matter how much I say I don’t want something, they’re certain I’ll feel better once I submit. … But you don’t do that; you care what I want, and that makes it easier to do the hard things I have no choice in. … When you came, I could just relax. I could obey you, and everything would be fine…”

“... That was the pheromones, Jay …”

“No, the pheromones made it easier to slip into that headspace, but how safe I felt was all you. If you hadn't come, they would have held me down, kicking and screaming, to get the blood sample. They’d be right - the blood sample was necessary, but I’d have nightmares about it for weeks. But you… I knew you would be gentle, and you were. I didn’t have any nightmares last night... I have never been able to relax while getting blood drawn, but I felt perfectly at ease having you do it. I know you think you were taking advantage of me being in a compromised position, but you weren’t. The pheromones were whispering to obey, but that’s all it was. A whisper, a suggestion. I chose to submit, because it was you. I … said some truly humiliating things, the pheromones definitely overrode my filter, and I’m so sorry for how uncomfortable that was, and for how grabby I was, but trusting you is a choice I would make every time, pheromones or not. You are a safe person for me, my love. I trust you, and I love you, and I am so, so grateful that you were there last night. You … you see my broken edges, and you tell me I don’t have to sand myself down to make myself into something that can be loved. You are everything to me… You asked how I could trust you after last night; but how could I not? Everyone else thinks nothing of crashing straight through my walls, and calling it love, but you cry over stepping through a door I left unlocked for you. You are so kind, and gentle, and considerate, and I am so lucky to be yours.”

He lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles one by one. I blushed bright red, squirming a bit. “... you chose to obey me like that? … That wasn’t the pheromones?”

“In the alley, I was resisting them. I had a handle on myself, I knew if I just focused on my breathing I'd get back under control soon enough. And then you were there, and I was still resisting, I wanted to convince you I was ok so you’d go home where you were safe. … But I realized that if they had brought you out, that meant they intended to use you to control me. I could either continue to resist, and they’d continue to push and shove, and it would take days to feel like myself again. And what's more, I’d probably hate every minute of it. Or I could lean in to it, just trust you to take care of me. Even though you didn’t know it was me, I knew that if I trusted you I would be safe, and it would be a lot easier to come back to myself. And I was right.” He squeezed my hands, stroking my knuckles with his thumbs.

“...You begged … you said ‘no needles’ …”

“I don't trust them with needles. They’re … efficient, but not particularly gentle. ... But you aren’t them. And you didn’t do anything wrong, doll. Promise. If I wanted to resist, I would have.”

“... You were so upset when I said we had to make you better…”

“Ah … yeah, that was … weird. … I guess my mind interpreted ‘make you better' as ‘you did something wrong', so … with the pheromones telling me I had to be good, I sorta freaked out…” he blushed brightly, looking away shyly.

“... You weren't freaking out because of the needle?”

“No, the needle was fine. You really did very well, actually…”

I sniffled softly, clinging to his hands. “I just did what Tim said…”

“You made me feel safe. Tim doesn't know how to do that.” He smiled gently, squeezing my hands. “... I just wish you had been there when I woke up. I thought … I thought you were gone.”

“Huh? No! No, baby, never. I just … I knew they'd stripped you, and you don't want me to see your chest yet, so …”

He nodded. “Damian explained. If it ever happens again though, I want to wake up with you beside me, ok? No matter what.”

I nodded, kissing his knuckles. “... Ok. … What next?”

“... Well, … are you … ok?”

I sighed softly. “What do you mean?”

“... It's been eight months, and I didn't tell you, … I'm Red Hood.”

“... Yeah…”

“... Are you mad?”

I slowly looked up into his eyes, gently squeezing his hands. “No, I'm not mad at you. … I'm very afraid that you won't come home one day, but I'm not mad at you. I love you…”

“I love you too. More than anything …” he gently squeezed my hands. “So … we're ok?”

I nodded. “We're ok.”

He sighed softly, kissing my knuckles again. “You're incredible…”

“Not really…”

He chuckled, cupping my cheeks. “Yes, really.”

Lois smiled brightly, shaking my hand. “Thanks for letting Jon spend the night; I know the boys have been looking forward to it all week!”

I grinned, shaking hers as well. “Of course! Damian gave you my phone number, right?”

She nodded; “yep! And you’ve got mine. Of course, if anything goes wrong you won’t need to use it. Clark’s planning to keep an ear out, just in case.”

I chuckled a bit weakly; Damian had received permission to tell me about the Kents. The idea of taking care of Superman’s kid was freaking me out a bit, but I had promised Damian, so we were proceeding as if this was perfectly normal. Besides, if Damian needed some normal childhood experiences, it seemed reasonable to assume Jon did too.

Lois gave Jon a hug goodbye before driving away, and the three of us headed upstairs. “Alright boys, how are we feeling about homemade pizzas for dinner?”

Jon grinned, following us through the door. “You make your own pizza?”

“Sometimes, it’s fun!”

They tossed their bags in the living room and followed me into the kitchen where we set up to make our pizzas. Jason and I had prepped several dough balls so everyone could make their own. We had three types of sauce, and every cheese and topping I could think of. The boys immediately got started rolling out their dough onto pans, adding what they wanted. I preheated the oven while they worked and decided what movie they wanted to watch tonight. Once their pizzas were in the oven, I prepared two more; one for me, and one for Jason. He was coming over after an early patrol to help me keep an eye on the boys, and I wanted his dinner ready when he got in.

The boys made a pillow fort while they waited for their pizzas, and for a minute it was easy to forget they weren’t normal kids. Damian’s guards, which already tended to drop quite a bit when it was just the two of us, seemed to be all the way down; he was smiling and laughing with his friend, and everything was perfect. I brought their pizzas over, taking a seat on what was left of the couch, and we watched the movie they had picked.

When Jason finally knocked on the door, I ran over to let him in. He smiled softly, kissing my forehead, and purred; “honey, I'm home~”

I giggled softly, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Welcome home~ any injuries to take care of?”

He shook his head. “Nope, it was a quiet patrol. Most of the action doesn't pick up until after midnight.”

I grinned, kissing his cheek. “Good~ hungry?”

“Starving~” I grinned, pulling him to the living room.

“You sit, I'll get your pizza!” He grinned, taking his seat, and I came back with his plate, and a glass. The boys had already made their way through most of a 2 liter, but we still had 2 more for the weekend. Jason pulled me in close, positioning me so my legs were over his lap, and kissed my forehead.

“Sister, Todd won't be joining us at the arcade tomorrow, will he?” Damian frowned a bit.

I chuckled softly, leaning against Jason's chest. “I don't know, he might.”

Damian frowned more. “You will not need him; we're very well behaved.”

“I’m not coming for you, demon brat. I’m coming to keep lil’ mama entertained.” Jason wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my shoulder.

Damian frowned deeply. “... You can only come if you stop making those jokes.”

“What jokes?” Jason frowned.

“Damian has decided I’m sister, not mama.”

The boy nodded; “Mother would be furious if she heard anyone else being referred to as a maternal figure for me.”

Jason smiled a little and nodded. “Alright, alright. No more mommy jokes. …” He kissed my jaw, whispering; “but that’s not gonna stop me when we’re alone. You ok with that, mama?~”

I blushed brightly and nodded once, running my fingers through his hair. “... Eat your pizza.”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy

[pigeonwhumps]

Superhero's pet

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.

The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.

1.9k

CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture

Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.

Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.

Or, as they call themself – pet.

They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.

They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.

She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.

They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.

They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"

Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."

"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."

Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.

They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.

"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."

"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."

Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.

"Whatever Mistress desires."

"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."

Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."

"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."

Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?

"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"

"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."

Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."

Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.

For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.

She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?

"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good pet."

Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."

Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.

_

Superhero has asked to see her.

Superhero has asked to see her.

Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.

As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.

She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.

She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."

"Sir?"

"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."

"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."

"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"

Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".

"No, sir."

"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."

"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."

Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.

Why did she ever like and trust him?

"Sorry, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.

Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.

_

Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...

"Villain, what..."

"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"

The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?

"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."

"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.

She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.

She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.

Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.

"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.

She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.

"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."

"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."

"Yes, Mistress."

They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.

Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.

She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.

Speaking of which...

"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."

Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.

"Good dogs don't bark."

[divijohm]

Headcanons for Toby, Jeff, Nina and slendy with a reader that lovesss animals? (and is good with them) :D like every time they return from a mission, reader has brought back a puppy or kitty? (bonus points if once she accidentally brought a wolf in the house mistaking it for a dog)

Pastas with a s/o that's good with animals!

Toby, Jeff, Nina and Slenderman

A/n: I LOVE ANIMALS! ALL ARE SUPER CUTE but sadly I'm not very good with them lolol I have a cat and a dog though they're my babyss hope you enjoy!

Slenderman

🐾 He does not get along well with animals, at all. He scares most them away just by standing there, problems of being a eldritch horror but once one warms up to him he actually is very gentle with them.

🐾 finds it cute and fascinating how well you can interact with the lil fellas, might even find a way to you to use them in missions. Not a fan of you bringing them to the mansion though, most pastas aren't a fan and may be allergic, and he does not enjoy when animals/wildlife are being mistreated so for everyone's sake, he'll ask you not to.

🐾 If you manage to convince him to have a pet, other than smile dog that is, he would like a cat, probably a black or tuxedo one, because it would be easier to hide the fur that will be all over his clothes

🐾 He's a tidy man, animals that make much mess are not his type, he also don't like the high maintenance ones (i.e hamsters) heck he barely takes care of his proxies, leaving most of them to survive on their own only giving the best ones a somewhat stable life. A high maintenance thing that's not even useful?? Hell no

🐾 Overall, he likes animals but he does not like to take care of them nor have them in his house, he doesn't need more little, bratty, short life-span beings to take care of, he already has the proxys

Toby

🐾 Adores animals as long as they're far away from him, he's scared of most of them at first but find them cute

🐾 Have a strong cat allergy poor thing can't be near one without a mask or he'll start sneezing

🐾 Will help you take care of them despite his fear and allergies, mostly by being on your side handing you stuff but he'll hold the animal still if you need to apply a vaccine or something

🐾 Sometimes his tics will be saying an animal name, because he's spending so much time listening to you talk about them, you find it cute

🐾 He's besties with the mansion permanent pets and will let them stay in his room if needed

Nina

🐾 BIG ANIMAL FAN, especially big ones

🐾 WILL pamper all the pets you bring home, to a point where you have to hide the treats from her otherwise she'll give them nonstop

🐾 Begs Slenderman to let you make a zoo with all the pets, he refuses of course but lets her keep a parrot

🐾 She named the parrot Willy, is a blue one and he's very talkative (much like his owner) surprisingly he can roam free and don't run away/get lost.

🐾Willy will attack on command, Nina did not teach him how to do that but one day she said to another proxy "I'll make willy take your eyes out!" And the birb was near and he just attacked going for the eyes. A moment of laughter and panic later, Willy was safe and the poor victim just had his eyelids slightly clawed, nothing major but Slenderman made Nina promise that she would never command willy to attack a proxy to a degree that can compromise their performance. So now she just makes him poop on people's foods and/or in them

Jeff

🐾 He only likes dogs, not much of a fan of any other species, he will tolerate birds and most of the wild life thought

🐾 He's afraid of cats, whenever you bring one to the house he'll try to act cool but the slightest movement towards him will make him flinch

🐾 Will act uninterested when you bring a dog but the moment you turn your back he WILL gush over them specially if they get along with Smiley

🐾 Fights everyone who criticizes your actions, because "at least animals are better than humans" bedsides you do all the work to care for them and keep the mansion permanent pets safe if they don't get along with the strays

🐾 will complain if you spend more time with the pets than with him, and will throw a tantrum if you tell him to wait because you have to take care of the lil ones before giving him attention

[adnauseum11]

Listening Post (John Price x Reader)

John goes M.I.A, and all is not as it seems at first.

900 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

You’re starting to get worried. It’s out of character for John to ignore you. Even when he was still on active duty, he would tell you if he was going to be in the field. He’d never compromise himself with any details but he’d at least let you know he was away. And he always let you know when he was back on grid, his simple ‘back here’ text enough to reassure you that he had made it home once again. You stand in your kitchen, gnawing a thumbnail and obsessively looking at your phone. 

He wasn’t in the field any more, and he shouldn't be away, you had plans to do Trivia Thursday night this week at the pub. He would have told you if he had left town. If you weren’t dating the wretched man, you would send him a text about being a miserable bastard and try him again the next day to see if his mood had improved. 

You scroll back in your texts, checking the timestamps. He’s never let a text go unanswered all day before. What kind of trouble could an ex-SAS Captain possibly get in to? He can take care of himself. Surely, he’s fine. He’s been in his share of fights. If the cops had picked him up for something, you would have got wind of it, you’re certain. You’re trying to convince yourself to remain calm, annoyingly something that’s normally John’s job between the two of you. 

You realize you’re going to spend the evening standing in the kitchen, agonizing in silence, so you resolve to sort the situation out one way or another. You pull on your jacket, thumbing through your phone to a ride share app. You find yourself in front of John’s flat less than 20 minutes later. His car is there, and instead of making you feel better you get a sinking sensation in your stomach. At least if he was away, you could tell yourself he was busy. Now it looks like he’s just dodging you. 

You let yourself in using the key he gave you years ago, knocking gently and calling for him. Nothing. No signs of life in the kitchen or living room. His neat flat looks immaculate. You’re heading down the hall when you hear low groaning. A flame of anger licks at your belly and you have to keep yourself from stomping the rest of the way down the hall. 

If he’s cheating on you before you’ve even had sex, you’re going to string him up by his balls. If you have to pay to find someone who knows how to do that, you will. It will be worth it – 

By the time you clear the doorway, you’ve convinced yourself of what you’re going to find. Even brace for it, your face screwed up into a wince. So, when it’s just John, sweating buckets and groaning in pain in the middle of his bed it takes you a full ten seconds to reboot your brain.

“What’s wrong?” You’re leaning over him, not bothering with pleasantries or admonishments now, running your hands over his face and chest with anxious movements. You’re instinctively looking for a wound of some sort before you can process your own actions. He squints at you, grabbing your hands and covering his eyes with your palms, curling towards you.

“My fucking head. Holy shit.” His voice is like gravel, and you wonder how long he’s been like this if he’s openly admitting to what ails him. You’re crawling into the bed, moving on autopilot despite never having seen him like this. John’s misery does not like company, thanks very much. But it seems those old rules of engagement for you both are shifting. You’re pillowing his head on your thighs, curling over him protectively and making sympathetic noises softly. As relieved as you are he’s not up to anything nefarious, guilt at it being a thought at all is hot on its heels.  

“A migraine?” 

He confirms with the tiniest tilt of his head, pressing his cheek into your thigh while you gently cup his forehead. He’s burning hot, sweaty to the touch. You’re stroking a palm over his hair slowly, easing him off your lap so you can run around his flat, gathering anything you can think of that might help - ice water in a bowl with a facecloth, a bottle of water, fruit from the bowl in his kitchen. He’s groaning again by the time you get back and arrange everything on his bedside table. 

You spend the rest of the night playing nurse, finally able to get more information out of the miserable man on what might make him feel better. The cool cloth helps, as does the darkness and gently stroking his scalp. You’re able to get him to lightly doze after a few hours of concentrated efforts. Grateful for the small stash of clothes and essentials John insisted you bring over a few days prior, you keep one eye on your sleeping patient while you change into pajamas. The thought of leaving him alone like this makes your stomach drop and your skin crawl, as does the slow realization he’s likely been dealing with these episodes alone for some time. 

You manage to crawl back into bed without disturbing him, resuming your slow stroking passes over his scalp. Your insides are wobbling dangerously, like you might fall into a heaving cry at any moment. You’re supremely grateful when exhaustion takes over, silencing any and all thoughts. 

Next Chapter

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 10 - Stockings

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Hey ! Here is the fic for the "Stocking" prompt for Kinktober. I actually made it as a sequel to the Fuck Or Die one. My mind was all over the place and I got a little carried away. I hope you like it nonetheless.

CW : ANGST - Unresolved issues - Relationship trauma - Flirting - Stocking - Infidelity - Marshall Mathers being an asshole - Reader not being any better, really

You should have known better. You should have known that, when Marshall had something in mind, there was no point in trying to reason him. And, seeing as you’d been his girlfriend for two years, you knew just obsessive and relentless he could get. Most of the time, he put these personality traits to good use in his pursuit of musical excellence. Sometimes, though, it was an omen of chaos. You were at fault, though, and you knew it. It wasn’t quite clear what had gone through your head when you allowed him to touch himself in front of you. You usually prided yourself in being a sensible human being. Pretty smart, even. But this ? It had been reckless and stupid. And it didn’t help that you had let the feeling of seduction get to your head, going as far as teasing him. There was nothing you could say in your defense. You had enjoyed the attention and had leaned into it. You had let your ego take over. As if your two year relationship with Marshall had not been one of the most damaging things that had ever happened to it. As if feeling your ex’s lustful gaze was worth betraying the trust of your fiancé. The one who had made you believe in love again. That you were worthy of attention and commitment. 

You hated yourself. You hated how stupid you were. You hated the way you were still craving for Marshall’s attention. And most of all, you hated the fact that you had let it show. Because you knew that, once he decided to have his fun with it, it would make your life a living hell. As soon as you’d heard him tell Greg « I want what you have », you knew you were fucked. You knew his asshole voice all too well. Of course he just had to torture you with it. The way he had phrased it made it seem like he wanted a relationship just as beautiful as the one you shared with your fiancé. Only you knew that what he actually wanted was the fiancée in question. You. But, sadly, you couldn’t tell Greg that. You couldn’t tell him what had happened either. Not when you were a couple of months away from your wedding, the happily ever after that you had been longing for. If he knew, he’d leave. Rightfully so. But you didn’t want to compromise your happiness for what had been a lapse in judgement. 

Afterwards, you had tried to tell yourself that, maybe it was a joke. Maybe it was just Marshall messing with your brain. You had already been vain and stupid, so why not add a side of delusion as well ? It was short-lived, though. Because the way he looked at you in the days that followed made it quite clear. He had read into the situation and seen something there. A possibility that, maybe, you weren’t as definitely done with him as you’d said you were when you left him. A possibility for him to have fun. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, though. Once a player, always a player. It’s what you had liked about him at first. His seductive aura. But sadly, it had ended up being what you disliked the most about him : he liked the fun and the chase too much. Sure, he had never cheated. As far as you knew, at least. It was more that what most of his exes could say. But just because he was faithful didn’t mean he only had eyes for you and you had come to understand that, in spite of his many qualities, he would never be the partner you needed. You had tried to convince yourself that the way he’d sometimes glance as gorgeous woman when he thought you didn’t notice was not a big deal. You had really trued to let it go be the bigger person and convince yourself that you were better than these girls who got insecure over nothing. That all men do it and, as a grown woman, you shouldn’t be so uptight. But the insecurities had kept on gnawing at you, as well as the realization that he’d probably never commit to you. 

Breaking up with him had been freeing. Heartbreaking, of course, but it was in your best interest. His reaction proved it, too. Acceptance and understanding. As soon as you had said the words, that it was over, he had come to terms with it. No fighting or arguing. He has nodded, said it was fine. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he had asked something work-related. You’d been flabbergasted, at first. Maybe he hadn’t actually understood that you had just broken up with him ? But when you asked, he had casually replied that you breaking up with him didn’t have to mean giving up on what had been a good professional partnership for seven years. Something about you being an incredible assistant, the best he could have ever hoped for. He valued you as a friend and collaborator. As weird as it was, it had been rather soothing for your ego and a good enough reason for you not to resign. You liked the job, after all. The following months had been a little weird, sure, but, in time, you had gotten used to it. Going back to being friends and working together. And then, a year and a half later, as fate would have it, you had met Greg. The opposite of Marshall. As if the universe was actually apologizing and rewarding you for being so brave, keeping on working with your ex. 

Your fiancé had healed you in so many ways. Making you feel appreciated, loved, valued. Actively pursuing you and stating his serious intentions. Not only had he told you he was marriage-minded, but he had put his words into action. After three weeks of dating, he had introduced you to his family and, on your six months anniversary, he had asked for your hand. You were finally going to live happily ever after and everyone was happy for you. Even Marshall, who seemed pretty friendly with Greg. Or at least, as friendly as he could get with someone so different from him. You should have known better than to believe your ex had any respect for your relationship. Or that he cared about your happiness more than he enjoyed seduction. Also, you should have known that a man on the chase doesn’t let any details unnoticed. Especially not when said details materialize in the form of lacy details on your thigh. 

When it came to work attire, you were usually pretty low key. You stuck to simple pieces that you were comfortable in, like your  skirt and cashmere sweater combo. Cozy enough for your day at the studio, yet sufficiently cute for the times you went out after work.  That day, you had plans with Greg, so you had swapped your usual sneakers for some cute and comfy pair of pumps. Unfortunately, the heel had accidentally ripped your last pair of tights before you left, forcing you to wear stockings instead. Breezier, for sure, but at least you didn’t have to deal with an outfit change that would make you late. You usually didn’t care about a little tardiness, neither did Marshall, but it was meeting day with Dre, who was in town, and you knew you had to be on your A-game. Lots to do. So much, in fact, that you soon forgot about your wardrobe incident. So much that you didn’t notice Marshall staring at you as you shifted in your chair, skirt sliding up a little as you moved. You should’ve known he’d notice that teasing band of lace just visible against your thigh. That his brain would read it as a signal, an invitation. 

After Dre left the building and you went back to Marshall’s office, he shut the door behind you. Your mind still on the meeting, you didn’t seem to notice right away, but you finally picked up on it, the way the tension felt charged, electric. “Marshall?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to face him. “What’s up?”.  He took a breath, seemingly considering his words carefully before he moved a little closer. “I couldn’t help but notice your, uh, new wardrobe choice today,” he said, gesturing slightly toward you skirt. “Not really a ‘you’ thing… wasn’t sure if it meant anything.” You looked down, confused for a moment, and then rolled your eyes with a short laugh. “Oh, my tights ripped this morning. These were my last-minute backup, not some message for you.” You raised an eyebrow as you tried to keep it light, yet clear. “Besides, you do remember I’m engaged, right?”. He leaned against his desk, his expression softening. “Greg’s a good guy. I know. But… he’s not me.” You shook your head, a mix of frustration and humor softening your gaze. “That’s actually why I chose him. Because he’s not you. Because you were unable to commit to me.” He looked at you and hummed.  “I was,” he agreed, his voice low. “I’m just saying… we had good times”. You sighed, nervously looking down at your hands, a hint of conflict flickering across your face. “We had our time,” you said, voice softening as your gaze met his. “And it was good. But you know I wanted stability, and you… are Marshall Mathers”.  He smirked at that, self-aware and, for once, not quick to argue. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get things wrong. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to make things right if they matter enough.”

You paused, watching him closely, searching his face for something. “You’re really doing this?” you asked, a small, nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Maybe,” he admitted, shrugging. “Greg’s nice. But… I don’t think he’s what you need. I know he’s not. And you know it too”. You exhaled sharply, closing your eyes for a beat before fixing him with a glare. “I’m with Greg now. And it’s not fair for you to… to play with me like this, knowing I’m getting married in two months”. He leaned in a little closer, his voice low. “Play with you? Come on, you know me better than that. I’m just saying… if you ever had second thoughts, if you wanted something real… I’d be there. Give it a real shot this time. Not just a couple of years”. 

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as you tried to hide your nerves and frustration. “That’s so you, Marshall. You’re saying all this now, trying to tell me you’d be different, but it just sounds like another game. Like you’re trying to say what you think I want to hear.” You folded your arms, a flash of sadness in your eyes. “If you had wanted me back, you should’ve done something about it when I left you. Not now that I’m actually with someone who’s stable, who can commit”. He watched you, undeterred, the corner of his mouth lifting as he shrugged. “Maybe it just took me a while to realize what I was missing,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks flush against your will. You hated yourself for reacting this way. But it seemed like the bastard knew you too well. “Besides, you’re here, looking like that, and I can’t help but remember… things”, he added with a smirk that showed you he knew exactly what he was doing. As always with him, it was deliberate. No accident. You shifted uncomfortably, a reluctant heat crawling up your neck as his words sank in. You felt his gaze like a touch, and it irritated you that he could still do this to you, make your pulse race despite every reason to resist. “Marshall, just stop,” you said, your voice tense. “I’m with Greg. And this—this flirting… it’s not fair to him or to me”. 

“Is it really just flirting, though?” he asked, his voice soft, eyes never leaving yours. “Feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re into this, too. And that’s okay. We had something good, after all. We could have it again if you’d let yourself see it.” You bit your lip, the irritation flaring up again, even as your own reaction to him betrayed you. You could feel your pulse quicken, the way his gaze made you feel like you were the only woman in the world, the only one who mattered. And that frustrated you even more. He had no right of making you feel this way. Not when it was all you had wanted from him for so long and he knew it. It was bad enough that he was trying to get to you, but this didn’t feel like seduction. It felt like torture. Some sort of emotional warfare. 

You crossed your arms tightly, glancing at him with a mixture of irritation and something dangerously close to vulnerability. “You’re being cruel, Marshall,” you accused, your voice low but firm. “You know exactly what you’re doing. And you know how much it hurts”. He looked at you ad shook his head. “Cruel?” he echoed, voice soft, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned back against the nearest wall, gaze roving over your face. “I’m just being honest.” You shook your head, feeling the flush creep up your neck despite yourself and your conscience scolding you. “You had your chance with me, Marshall. And now you’re—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he cut in, his voice a shade more vulnerable than you’d expected. His gaze was intense, all traces of teasing wiped away, and it held you still, making you forget your next words. “The other day, seeing that look in your eyes again… It was like I got this tiny piece of you back, and then you’re gone again, right out of my reach.” You felt your heart skip, your fingers curling slightly as his words sank in, but you hardened yourself, forcing your expression to stay steady. “You make it sound so easy, like you’re just entitled to pull me back in because you suddenly decided you miss me,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “But I have a life now, Marshall. A real relationship. With someone who… who actually wants me.”

“I know I fucked up,” he said, his voice dropping lower, holding your gaze. “But believe me, it was hard, trying to get over you, then. And now? Now it’s impossible. You think I haven’t tried? Think I haven’t wondered how it’d be to just let you go and move on?”. His voice wavered slightly, but it was his eyes, that quiet intensity, that made your pulse race. And as much as you hated it, your body reacted, remembering exactly how that gaze used to unravel you. “Marshall…” you whispered, barely able to get his name out. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t make me second-guess everything like this.” But he wasn’t backing down. Instead, he took a slow step closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, so close you could almost feel his breath. “You think I’m just playing, but you know me better than that. You know I don’t say things I don’t mean.”. 

Your heart pounded, breath hitching as he reached up, his hand brushing against your cheek with a familiar, devastating tenderness. You felt your walls begin to crumble, your body leaning slightly toward him before you could think better of it. He smirked, his gaze flicking down to your lips. “See? You still feel it too. I know you do,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Your resolve wavered, but you shook her head, even as your body betrayed you. “This isn’t fair,” you managed, your voice softer now, more breathless. “It’s a game to you. You’re just trying to play. You think you can just sweet-talk your way into winning.”

“If that’s all you think this is,” he whispered, leaning even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours, “then tell me to stop.” But you couldn’t. The tension between the two of you snapped, and before you knew it, his mouth was on yours, all that frustration, all that longing you had tried to bury, spilling out between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt all resolve melt, every protest fading under the heat of his kiss. He deepened it, one hand sliding up your back, his other grazing your cheek as if memorizing your touch. And against every logical thought, you found yourself returning the kiss, your own hands tangled in his shirt, clutching him like he was both the problem and the solution. Your breathing was ragged as Marshall’s hand slid up your thigh, fingers tracing just above the lace edge of your stocking. His touch was firm yet careful, stroking your bare skin in a way that made you lose every coherent thought, every ounce of resolve you had tried so hard to keep. You were pressed against him, your mouths hungry, his lips rough and familiar, setting off sparks you had nearly forgotten. 

He paused, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a familiar, smug gleam. “The ‘nice guy’ you settled for,” he murmured, voice dripping with confidence, “could never make you feel like this. And deep down, you know it. Even if you don’t want to admit it… even if it’s subconscious… you wore these because you wanted my attention.” A surge of anger flared up, cutting through the haze of your desire. Your cheeks flushed, not only from the heat of his touch but from the bite of his words, that infuriating arrogance that he still had, like he already knew he’d won. “You think you know me so well,” you shot back, voice unsteady but fiery. “Think you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”. Of course he had to do this. Place himself at the forefront of your thoughts. Make it all about him. But he didn’t seem to care about your ager. He simply chuckled, his hand still caressing your thigh, his thumb brushing over your skin with deliberate, maddening slowness. “I don’t think. I know. I can feel it. You’re here right now, aren’t you?”

Your jaw clenched, your body betraying your resolve with every hitch of her breath, every slight movement closer to him. His hand slid a little higher, stoking the heat between you, his touch gentle yet possessive. He was too close, his mouth at your ear now, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “You can marry Mr. Nice Guy,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “But I’ll be right there, front row, watching, and we’ll both know the truth. We both know he’ll never be me.” That struck a nerve, hard, snapping you out of the haze he’d wrapped you in. You pushed him back, just enough to look him square in the eyes, your own gaze blazing with anger. “Then be there. Front row. And watch me marry him. Watch me prove that I’m done with this,” you shot back, voice trembling with fury and something else you couldn’t quite deny. “You’ll get all the attention you want, Marshall, watching me build a life without you in it.” The challenge in your voice hung thick in the air, both of you locked in that moment, eyes clashing. You could see the flicker of something vulnerable in his expression, a brief crack in his cocky facade before he recovered, his hand moving up to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek, his expression softer but no less intense. “If that’s what you really want,” he murmured, eyes searching yours. “But you can’t pretend you don’t feel it, too.”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, you were lost again, his mouth crashing against yours, his hand stroking up your thigh as your own hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer with a force that felt more like surrender than defiance. You kissed, your anger mixing with desire, the fire between them relentless and uncontainable, even as your mind screamed for you to stop. You knew you should push him away. Hell, you should resign and leave. But you were under his spell. Addicted to his eyes on you, the way he touched you. But most of all, it was the way he was finally giving you something you’d been craving all these years ago, that made it impossible for you to pull back. You were the object of his desire. Not the girlfriend he had been faithful to out of mere obligation and kindness. Not the accommodating assistant promoted to GF because her blowjob skills rivaled her schedule management and coffee-making abilities. Maybe it was ok for you to enjoy it for a second. Maybe you could bask in it, heal the wounds he had inflicted each time he had looked at these other women. Each one of them a humiliation you had not allowed yourself to feel, back then. Screw the fake « cool girl » attitude you had forced upon yourself. Remaining silent each time you’d see him stare at these girls. Pretending you didn’t care, that it wasn’t a blow to your confidence when it shattered you inside. And slowly, at these thoughts, you found yourself coming out of his spell.

Your breathing was still uneven, your cheeks flushed as you took a deliberate step back, creating a space between you and him that felt almost painful to establish. You straightened yourself, forcing the resolve back into your voice even as his eyes lingered on you, dark with frustration and a longing he wasn’t bothering to hide. “It doesn’t matter what I feel, Marshall. Because none of this changes the fact that I want you to watch me get married.” You straightened your shoulders, the words spilling out with an edge that cut through the silence. “And when you do, I want you to take a good look at my husband. Because no matter what you think, Greg will be the one fucking me every night. Not you.” He clenched his jaw, a hint of wounded pride flashing in his gaze, but he didn’t interrupt, his eyes locked on you as if trying to read between every word you said. “You can obsess over whether I wore these stockings for you or not,” you continued, gesturing with a coldness that felt like armor, “but you’re not going to be the one taking them off. You can tell yourself all you want that you’re better than him, but at least the ‘nice guy’ is the one who gets to finish. With me. No need for pills, too. You think you're so good but while you're touching yourself to me because your sex life sucks, he actually gets to touch.”   You saw the way the words hit, a flash of hurt in his expression before he quickly masked it, the usual confidence in his eyes now edged with something vulnerable. He took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets as if to keep himself from reaching for you. His voice was low, raw. “All that ?” he asked, the words carrying a weight you hadn’t expected. “What is it that makes Mr. Nice Guy so great, then? That he’s the one who gets to finish ?”. 

“Commitment,” you replied immediately, voice unwavering. “His undivided attention. I know he’ll be there, and he won’t treat me like some challenge. He makes me feel safe, Marshall. He’s everything you couldn’t be.” He let out a bitter laugh, the pain evident in his face as he shook his head. “Then go ahead. Be happy. Play it safe.” He paused, searching your face, a flicker of resentment mixed with the hurt in his gaze. “But it’s funny, because not once did you mention being in love with him.” The words stung, tearing down your defenses with brutal precision, but before you could respond, his hand lifted to your face, his touch achingly gentle as his fingers traced your cheek. You stood still, heart pounding, resolve weakening under the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand on your skin. “Enjoy your perfect, safe life,” he whispered, his tone laced with irony, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I hope the white dress and everything else is worth the masquerade.” The tension in his voice was like a taut wire as he leaned in, just close enough that you felt his breath against your skin. “And who knows, maybe I’ll even be the judge of it all, from my front-row seat at the wedding.” He pulled back, giving you one last look, his face hard yet unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone, hands trembling, his words echoing in the quiet space he left behind. 

[bitchapalooza]

Zosan being parents would honestly be so funny to watch on the outside but once you get to the nitty gritty you’re like “who let these two procreate….?” (And like. Yeah this is about my zosan fankids!!!)

They’re not terrible parents! Like not at all! They just never had perfect examples of parenting growing up so it’s a hassle for the first several years (for the first kid; the other two were rough too but they had more experience this go round) and neither of them are really open for advice either. They’re stubborn and wanna do this without help because asking for help would be admitting defeat and admitting defeat would mean neither of them were ready for this after all.

Zoro ends up being overprotective, like to the point where he’s not gonna let his kid out of his sight for even a second. Separation anxiety is pretty prevalent postpartum and even returns full force once she’s starting to push away on her own to explore like any toddler does. He’s thankful she’s always running back to him and making grabby hands to be lifted up and held, lets him know she does still need him after all, a nice reminder. But he absolutely refuses to let her climb or go down stairs! Not on her own! His anxiety spikes, not like he’ll admit that. His anxiety of the kids pushing away from him sticks to him for years. And once they do leave, he doesn’t really take kindly to being an empty nester. He traveled a lot while also raising them at the same time, but that was different. At least he knew where they were while he was gone.

Sanji’s biggest struggle actually comes during the toddler stage. Toddlers tend to waste a lot food, either because they still lack that impulse control and dump it out or because they don’t want to eat that particular food. Now their daughter Sora isn’t a picky eater. She’ll eat anything you give her as long as it’s not touching. But there are times where she will, as per toddlers do, throw her food or dump it out, ect. As that’s Sanji’s biggest pet peeve. It takes some time to really gain the patience to deal with this, to not lose his temper (he never loses his temper with his princess, he’s very proud to say that!), an adjustment period he calls it. Eventually he does figure out how to perfectly portion out her food so it IS enough. Rinse and repeat when the boys transition to toddlerhood; like Sora, they aren’t particularly picky eaters, but just as toddlers like to do…

Together, they do have differing parenting styles that surprisingly they did talk through just not as extensively as they should have. Sanji wanted to spoil the kids, buy them toys and gifts whenever they went shopping. Zoro wanted to teach them they needed to earn special treats like toys and candy, such as starting them young with little chores that he knew they would be capable of doing at the age of 4 at the least. They would end up compromising—after an argument that quickly turned into a very long drawn out deep discussion about bad childhoods and the fear of not raising them correctly, something they very very very rarely ever do.

They aren’t perfect but what parents are? They love their kids equally and would go as far as to die for them.