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spidybaby · 2 days ago

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love begin again and barça boyz ❤️ plz i need a barça boyz asparents or coparenting plz plz plz 😭

Coparenting | Barca Boys

Summary: What is it like to coparent with them

A/N: I can't lie, I love this request 🥺❤️ also, thank you, Anon. I'm happy to know that you loved Begin Again.

Pedri

"Do you have your coloring book?" You ask, grabbing your son's backpack. He nods at your question. "What about your neon color pencils?"

"I have the draw I made for papi." He answers, showing you the drawing one more time.

You gran him, walking to the Gonzalez Lopez household. You text Rosy that you are outside, thar way you don't have to knock.

"Okay, mi amor." You put him down. "Listen to your dad, don't eat too much sugar and have fun."

He nods, giving you that smile that makes you think of Pedri. He was so much like Pedri. Even the way of talking, not only did he got the accent, but the expressions.

Rosy opens the door, greeting both of you. You share a quick hug with her. "Hola, guapo." She says, greeting the smiling boy.

"Mira abu," He says, showing her the drawing. "Para papi."

"It's so amazing! Your daddy is going to love it."

You kissed him one last time. "Have fun in Sevilla, amor." You say, sending him inside the house. "You guys are going to have fun this weekend." You smile at her.

Rosy hugs you. "We will." She says, taking the backpack from you. "Are you doing anything this weekend?"

You nod your head. "I'll go to the movies." You smile. "Oh, can you please give this to pedri? These are the tickets to the game our son has next month."

You considered yourself lucky, Pedri was coming out of the house with your kid on his arms.

"Mami!" You hear your baby yell. "Papi is getting me an ice cream."

"That so yummy, baby." You smile at him. "Hi, Pedri."

"Hola." He says, a very dry tone.

Rosy knows that if looks could kill, hers would kill her son. "Pedri, this is for you." She says, taking the envelope from your hands.

When Pedri found out about the baby, he was over the moon. You were his puppy love since school, first kiss, first time, first everything.

You also were his biggest fan, there was not one game day where you weren't ready to go support him.

To him, it was a big hit when you told him that it wasn't working anymore. You had a very hard postpartum time, as much as you tried to work on yourself, you couldn't.

You move out of his house, not wanting for him to be the one to leave, plus you don't need a five room house.

He offered to get you a house and to pay for everything you needed. He didn't wanted you to move back to Tenerife.

Once you got on your own feet, you told him to only take care of the baby. You didn't want to be a bother to him.

"What is this?" He asks, grabbing the envelope.

"The tickets for the game." You explain. "I texted you that I was going to bring them."

"Mhm" He humms, kissing his boy on the cheek. "Thanks. I'll be back, mom."

You move to the side, waving at your boy. You can't lie that it hurts you to see Pedri being so dry to you.

"I got tickets for both Fernandos and you, hope you can make it." You whisper, knowing your voice was going betray you. "Please, take care of him."

Rosy hugs you, she knows that you never wanted to hurt Pedri.

When Pedri came back home, his son was asleep on his arms. He was carrying two big bags that contained toys, as always he was the one spoiling him.

Rosy was waiting for him. Her husband and oldest son knew better than to be near when the bomb exploted on Pedri.

"We are back. Gosh, he's heavier by the day." Pedri laughs.

"Take him to his room and come back, we need to talk." His mother says, a very stern tone on her voice.

Pedri does as he's told, he doesn't want to mess with his mom. At least not when she's using that tone of voice.

He lays his boy down, turning the white noise machine that helps him sleep and closing the door with care.

"What are we having for dinner?" He asks.

Rosy knows she shouldn't, but she can't help to be involved in the middle.

"Pedro, you really need to start being a little more considerate with the way you talk to Y/n."

"Mom, not again." He scuffs. "Leave me and her to deal with this."

"I try, but I can't help it. You act as if you are bothered by her. Your son is young, and he doesn't notice this, but he will grow and see that you barely even acknowledge his mom. That's not okay."

"I try my best, okay?" He says, rolling his eyes. "Again, don't mind it, this is between us."

Rosy tries to answer back, but Pedri is already going upstairs to lay in bed with his kid.

You decide to play potato at home all weekend, turning on the match when the time hits. You might not be together, but you are still turning every single match he has.

The match was like a heart attack, a lot of emotions.

But the biggest emotion you had was when your phone began vibrating. It was Pedri requesting a FaceTime.

You don't think twice and press the green button. Your screening shows him and your son cheek to cheek, both with a big smile.

"Mami, we won."

You smile so hard your cheeks feel numb. "That so amazing!" You jump a little. "Tu papi es un campeón." You say. (Your daddy is a champion)

You don't notice it, but Pedri smile grows when you say that. "We are going to sleep as a celebration." Pedri says, laughing a little. "This one's curfew already passed like three hours ago."

"Today's allowed," you laugh, making him laugh.

You talk a little bit with your son and with Pedri as he bathes and changes your son to sleep. He tells you that the nanny of Lewas girls was the one who was going to be helping with your baby.

"Okay, time to sleep. I love you, amor. Please sleep." You say, pointing at your camera so your son could notice how serious you are.

"Adios, mami." He waves at you, sending you a kiss like you taught him.

"Thank you for calling me. I love you both."

"Love you too, mami." Pedri says, knowing it wasn't just because he had to answer back. "Very much."

Gavi

"Hey, drop it." You say to your daughter, who was taking her toys out of her already packed backpack. "You need to be ready to go to your dad's house."

"Papi let me play with my Barbie when he prepares my bag."

You roll your eyes, knowing that, of course, Gavi was letting her do whatever she wanted.

"Okay, I get it." You say, getting closer to her. "But mami really needs to go to class, so please don't do that right now." You begged.

She shrugs, taking the Barbie out and leaving the backpack alone. You roll your eyes, sometimes you do hate to be the strick one.

"Let's go." You say, grabbing her hand and backpack.

You were thankful that Pablo has training in the afternoon for the whole week. You sister was on finals week at school, so she needed to focus on her exams and couldn't help you with your daughter.

You didn't have much option but to ask Gavi to watch her while you go to class in the mornings. He was supposed to have her the late evenings and nights because of you taking that time to do homework and study.

"I love you very much." You say to her, giving her a kiss. "Please behave, doll."

"Te amo, mami." She smiles, hugging you.

You press Gavi's doorbell. Waiting for him to let you in.

"Mami, I'm hungry."

"I know, perdón I didn't give you breakfast." You pout. "Daddy told me he was making you something."

You hear the click of the door. Pablo opens it with a big smile on his face.

"Vente, muñeca." He says, making grabby hands to her. "I have your favorite cereal ready."

You want to ask, knowing that it was that same cereal you asked him not to buy. But you were a little too late for that.

"Thanks again, Pablo." You smile. "Doll, don't eat that much sugar." You warn her.

You ran to your class, leaving Gavi to be the responsable one.

"We have all day to ourselves." He says, giving his daughter a kiss on each cheek. "Want to watch a movie while we eat?"

She nodded, that was already their dinner tradition. Usually Pablo gets take out for her while he eats something plain like a salad or some nutritional stuff.

He enjoys spending time with his daughter, even when he doesn't even know what she's doing most of the time.

Part of him being the < Do whatever you want > type of dad, was that he finds himself busy with something else while his daughter entertains herself.

The other part is him just being a young dad. After all, he's 20.

Being a teen dad wasn't something he had in mind. His parents almost killed him, especially when they find out.

Even tho he is a very calm dad, who allows her to do a lot of things. You know that if you and him were together, you probably would be the same.

He grabs her hand, moving her to the play room he has for her. He sits down on the couch while she plays with her Barbie dolls.

He plays with her for a while, then watches a movie together. Feeling like the time went by perfectly.

"Papi, my friend likes barca too."

"Oh really?" He asks, smiling. "That girl has a very smart dad at home." He chuckles.

"Papi, my friend is a boy." She giggles.

Pablo raises an eyebrow. Sometimes he wonders if what she says is accurate, but lucky him, his daughter happens to be as well spoken as he was when he was a child.

That meant that when she said that she has a boy as a friend, she can't be mistaking the world.

"A boy? Tu no puedes tener amigos. Recuerda, los niños dan asco!" He frowns, not approving his baby girl having a boy around her. "Who is this boy?" (You can't have boy friends. Remember, boys are yucky)

"Mami has boy friends." She frowns too.

"Mami doesn't," He argues. "Plus, mommy is a grown-up. You are my baby, you can't have a boy as your friend."

"Auntie Aurora has." She argues back. She's definitely his daughter. "She kisses him. I want to kiss my boy friend too."

"No!" Pablo shouts. "That will make your teeth fall. You can't do that." He says, very strong tone.

It looks like all the stars aligned against him. His frown softens when he sees the tears on his daughter's eyes.

"Muñeca, no." He says, lifting her up. "I'm sorry, doll. I didn't mean to yell." He coos her in his arms.

Another sign for him to know that the luck wasn't on his side that morning was the doorbell.

He looks at his phone, time showing that it was, in fact, you the one ringing the doorbell. He can't help but feel like the one who's about to get yelled is him.

"Amor, mirame." He says, grabbing his daughter's face. "Papi didn't meant to yell, I'm sorry, doll." He kisses her face.

"No." She says, moving her face away from him. "I want mami."

His heart goes faster when he hears his phone, a text from you. Asking if he was home because you were outside.

"Amor, fine!" He says, desperately. "You can kiss all the boys you want, just stop crying."

But she won't reason, thanks to him she's scared to be even be near a boy. Fearing her teeth are going to be missing.

"The tooth fairy won't come if I kiss a boy." She cries even harder.

"Por la puta." Gavi whispers. "Muñeca, stop crying."

He can't keep hiding inside his home. You rang the doorbell again, making him frown. He leaves his girl on the coach, telling her to wait for him.

He rans downstairs, opening the door to you. "Hi, I thought you weren't here." You smile. "Where's our daughter?"

"That's the thing." He says out of breath. "I made her cry, and now she won't stop." He pouts. "Don't yell."

"Gavi!" You shout.

"Joder, don't yell." He shouts back. "I didn't mean to do it."

You shake your head, pushing him out of the way and walking inside the house. You already know she's in the play room.

"Amor, ven aqui." You say as soon as you see her. "What did you Daddy did to you?" You ask her, picking her up and hugging her.

"He says my tooth are falling." She cry into your neck.

You turn to the door, knowing Gavi is there.

"Teeth," He corrected, "And if it helps, she says that you have a lot of boy friends." He says, frowning. "Why?"

You open your mouth. "I don't." You fight back. "Did you make her cry about that?"

"No, she wanted to kiss a boy." He explains. "She can't do that until she's 40!"

"So you decide to yell and scare her?" You ask.

He looks at the floor, hearing his baby sob. "I didn't mean to." He whispers.

You soften your frown, you know that Gavi is young. He obviously is going to have this childish moments with her.

You have those moments with her. It's normal that you both do.

"Doll, you won't lose your teeth if you kiss a boy. What papi meant is that you are too young to do it, and you have to wait."

"Yes, wait till you are 40." Gavi whisper. "Amor, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean to make you cry." He pouts. "Perdoname?"

Your now more calmed daughter looks at you, waiting for you to nod and to turn back to Gavi. "Go with papi." You smile, giving her a kiss.

"Te amo." He says, kissing her cheek. "But you can't kiss boys."

"Pablo!" You warn him.

Ferran

"Hi, Fer." You smile, opening the door.

"Why was our daughter outside?" He asks, mad expression on his face.

He has her on his arms, one hand grabbing the barca mini ball he gave her the day before.

"Oh, she was playing with Nelly." You explain. "Want some water?" You ask.

"Papi, down." Your daughter says.

He puts her down, giving her the ball. He closes the door and follows you to the kitchen. You hand him the glass of water.

"Gracias," He says. "You look beautiful." He smiles at you.

You smile back, knowing that he always says something like that. "I'm wearing a food stained shirt and joggers." You point at yourself. "I don't feel very beautiful."

"Well, you are." He smiles. "Now, care to answer my question?" He blinks a few times.

"I did. She was playing with Nelly, the neighbor's daughter."

"And I assume that Nelly's dad is the one who was playing with them." He says, a very deceptive tone. "Playing with her barca ball, that I got her, playing football with our daughter."

"Okay?" You say. "I feel like you are conflicted with that, care to explain?"

"Y/n, he's wearing a Madrid jersey." He says, the disgust in his tone was enough to make you roll your eyes. "And why is another dude playing football with my daughter? She's only allowed to play that with me!"

"Ferran, she was excited to show Mario her ball, and Nelly and her play every Wednesday."

"Who's Mario?" He raised an eyebrow. "Is he Nelly's dad?"

"Ferran, stop." You scuff. "Hey, Arantxa wants to get her into ballet, by the way." You say, walking over to your room.

"I need to shower. Please turn the oven off in fifteen minutes, and don't give her juice if she asks, I know you!"

Ferran took the opportunity to go to where his daughter is.

"Amor, come here." He says, opening his arms. "Is Mario your friend Nelly's dad?"

He knows it is crazy to ask his barely three year old daughter that question, but kids know a lot so he does.

She nods, smiling. "Nelly likes my ball."

"I'll get her one." He smiles. "What do you think about living closer to Auntie Arantxa?" He asks the little girl, getting closer to her and kissing her chubby cheek.

He lifts her, hugging her closer to him.

If he can say something about being a dad, is that he loves it. Having a girl is the best thing, he loves dressing up as a princess, with his tutu and his tiara.

He knows that he fucked up between you and him. Putting more effort into his work, spending less time at home, and the time he spent there was either on the gym or the sauna.

You got tired of begging him to just give you a day. Begging him for an hour of the day, to maybe help with his daughter, to be with you.

He got home tired, eating dinner and moving to the gym to tired himself even more. You try to ask him to be there for you, but he failed.

When you told him you were moving out, that you needed to put your child first. He felt betrayed.

He even fought you, calling you selfish for using your child as an excuse. Till this day, he regrets that.

You rented a two bedroom house. Perfect and small for you and your child. You work at the daycare your daughter goes to, so it's perfect. Your house is perfect for the two of you, and the location is even better for work.

Ferran tried to buy you a house, a big four bedroom home that was in the same neighborhood. You said no, angry at him and wanting to give him the space you thought he needed.

Now you notice that he spends more time at your house than anything. Barely even going back, just to check on his dogs and to play with them a little.

"Kiss." He says, making a duck lip to smooch his daughter. "Te amo." He smiles

"Te amo, papi."

You walk back into the kitchen after your very needed shower. Ferran was dancing to baby shark.

You smile at that, "I'm back." You announce. "Want to stay for dinner?"

"Obvio," He laughs. It was obvious you weren't getting him out of there until she was asleep. "Want some help?"

You shake your head, being able to prepare the plates while he dances with her.

"I'm getting her that cupra mini car that I saw on Instagram." He says to you, grabbing his plate and moving to the table. "We are going to match, amore."

"Can that stay at your house?" You ask. "Thanks to you, I don't have that much space anymore." You point at your very busy living room."

"About that," He whispers. "I got to tell you something." He says, scratching the back of his head.

"What did you do?" You narrow your eyes at him.

"Pedri told me it was a good idea." He excuses himself. "And the location is perfect. There's a big patio. Almost next to my sister."

"Ferran!" You sigh, not wanting to fight in front of your kid. "Why?"

"Because I miss you, and this place is so small. Sorry to say it." He lift his hands. "I fucked up, okay? I did! And now I get to see my daughter only after work, I'm dying."

He gets up, walking outside for a moment. You give him a few minutes, smiling at your daughter who's looking at you with curiosity.

"Don't kiss and tell, but Papi is not the smartest of them all." You whisper, making her laugh. "I'll be back, eat your dinner, mi amor."

He's taking his time, not wanting to go back while being this disappointed at himself.

"Ferran," You call him. "Can we talk?"

"What do I need to do to fix this?" He asks, desperate for an answer. "I want you guys back."

"Let's start by not buying anything before informing the other." You joke, making him chuckle. "I know this is an ugly situation for us, but we can't play bingo with our daughter. I need to make sure you changed because I don't feel like leaving again at midnight."

"You won't ever need that."

"Let's try to finish today. After she's in bed, we can talk." You say, grabbing his hand and walking inside. "Deal?" You ask, standing at the door.

"Deal." He smiles, taking a deep breath. "Can I sleep over?" He asks, trying his luck.

"No." You say, pulling him inside.

Fermin

"Do you want the blue shirt or the white one?" Fermin asks his son. "I like this one more, because that way we can match!"

"Bu," His son says, trying to say the word blue. "Bu, papi."

Fermin smiles, pulling the shirt over his head. "Look at you," He says, lifting him and walking over to the mirror. "We match!"

He was spending the evening with his son. You needed to study for this very important test that was taking place during the evening. He took the time to spend the whole day with him.

"I'm sending a picture to your Gammy." He smile. "Say hi, grandma." He smiles, snapping a picture of the two of them.

"Mamá." Your son says after the picture is taken.

Something Fermin knows is that he's not used to being away from you that much. He might go with an hour more than usual, maybe two even, but the whole day without you? No way.

"Mami is studying, buddy." Fermin explains. "That's why you and I are going to go get ice cream!"

Fermin loves to spend time with his son, it was the highlight of his day. Of his life better say. He enjoys it too much.

He feels bad that he doesn't get to spend as much time as he would want, mostly because he didn't share a house with you and because his job has kept him bussy.

"Mami." Your son pouts.

He wants you too, but sadly for him, he fucked up. So now he doesn't have you as he wanted.

"We can call her." He says, taking his phone and dialing your number.

You answer to FaceTime. Smiling when you see your baby's face. "Hola, mi vida."

"Mami, bu!" He claps.

"Blue!" You repeat. "Love that you are matching."

"We are going for ice cream." Fermin says, informing you of the plans. "Sorry to interrupt you, but he's a mama's boy and he can't live without you."

You pout. "I love you, amorcito." You smile. "As soon as I'm done with this, I'll go pick you up and we will cuddle while watching coco."

Fermin feels jealous, he wants to cuddle and watch coco too. He wants to be able to be there and spend time with the two of you.

You can describe Fermin as a perfect dad. Even when people say that there's not such a thing. Well, there is. Fermin López is that thing.

He helps whenever you need him to help, he stepped up when you need him to, he cleans, he cooks, he knows how to change diapers, he knows how to deal with a cold or the flue, he knows how to deal with tantrums.

He's the perfect dad.

But he wasn't the perfect boyfriend. That's where he failed, and you don't blame him, you weren't the perfect girlfriend either.

Your relationship ended before the baby came. You try your best to hide from Fermin that you were pregnant.

You were afraid that his career was going to suffer. You try your best to hide it from your friend in common.

The thing you forgot was that he knew where you lived, so when he came back to Sevilla for vacations, he went straight to your house.

You opened the door without checking who it was, big mistake you thought at the moment.

He asked the obvious question. "Is it mine?"

After that, he tried to do everything he could to be there for you. Even encourage you to move to Barcelona.

He got you a place to live, mostly because you didn't want to go back together, feeling that he wanted to do all this because of the baby.

He helps you money wise with the baby, even when you mention that your parents can help you and that you will be fine.

"Thank you, Papi." You smile at Fermin as soon as he is on frame. "I really can't do this without you." You pout, feeling emotional.

"I love you, mami." He smiles. "Go get that test done, we love you."

You send them a kiss, hanging up the call.

"Okay, amorcito." He says to his baby. "Want to go get ice cream?"

He smiles when the boy in his arms starts to clap his hands. "Yeah, let's go!"

The evening was all fun and laughs. He loves spending time with his little one. He makes sure to cook something for you.

Just in time, the doorbell rang. He takes his son from the safe mini sofa he bought for him. He walks to the door with him, making him laugh by asking him if he is ready yo eat.

"Hola!" You say, smiling at them. "Amor, ven acá." You grab the baby from his arms. "Hola, Fer." You smile, hugging him. "Sorry, I forgot the keys."

Yes, he gave you a copy of his house keys.

"I made dinner." He smiles, kissing your forehead. "Come here." He grabs your hand, walking with you inside.

"Did you have fun?" You ask your son. "Did papi and you have fun today? Did you eat a lot of ice cream?"

"Papi." He smiles, looking over at Fermin.

"Send a kiss to papi!" You say, excited to show Fermin what your baby learned. "Kiss, muak muak."

He does this thing, where he places his hand on his mouth and makes a kiss sound as he puts his hand away.

"Amor!" Fermin smiles happy. "Do that again." He does. You love to see the happy face and the big smile on Fermin's face. "One more time." He says.

"Muak." Your baby says, throwing a kiss at Fermin.

Fer loves having you over, he would love to have you living with him. Maybe in the future, you said once.

He can't wait for that to happen.

✨️✨️✨️

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl

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girlfromflor · 20 hours ago

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went through hell yesterday and now I'm thinking about kyle garrick who takes care of you so tenderly when you're feeling sick – at first, at least. | gn!reader, kyle is like a daddydom(?) but there's no use of daddy in this one

he doesn't even question why that night, he just asks "what are you feeling, my love?" concern taking over every feature of his beautiful face.

to which you answer "headache... feel like throwing up," with a big pout and shaky hands from nausea.

he makes something salty and light for you to try and eat at least something, but as you shake your head and say with trembling voice that you "really can't, kyle", he nods and helps you walk all the way to your bedroom where he sets you down on the bed and gives you a pill to help and soothe the headache.

he watches as you drink it grimacing and he can only say "i know, baby, but you can sleep now. and you'll wake up feeling better tomorrow, eh?"

he let's you hide your trembling, cold hands underneath his shirt. you forehead tucked in chest as he hugs you until you're asleep. and when you wake up, he's still there – by your side, holding you like you're the most precious thing he ever came across.

when he wakes up, the very first thing he does is make sure you're feeling 100% better. once that's out of the way, he asks "now, tell me what happened yesterday, love."

you, as guilty as you could feel, answer him with a mumble. "forgot to eat dinner yesterday..."

you can feel the way the soothing brushes of his fingers in your skin halt for a second, before he's questioning "did you, baby? what was it that you were doing that made you forget to eat?"

he knows you get caught up in your own head sometimes, that you get so entranced in your hobbies that you forget to do the most basic things for your own comfort. you tell him that you were just distracted with a new tool you got that would help you finish your project of the moment, to which he answers with a sigh.

"baby, i know you were having fun and distracted, but what is the rule for when you have a new project you're working on?"

he waits as you take your time to answer. he's always so patient with you, it makes tears well up in your eyes. "i have to set up an alarm and always prioritize things related to my health and comfort..." you answer firmly, you had to repeat that a lot of times for you to not know it by now.

"hm, that's right. so, if you remember that, how come you forgot about it yesterday?" he's not mad, you can tell, but he's worried. worried something else got to you and that you actively neglected it other than just forgetting.

"'s just that i didn't have my phone close, so i couldn't have heard the alarm go off. 'm sorry, it wasn't on purpose..." you rush to answer, voice slowly being enveloped in anxiety, but he just sushes you with a kiss to your cheek.

"c'mon now, baby. you know it's okay. this isn't for me, is for you," he says and pull you closer in his embrace. "go on, say it, baby. you don't have to be sorry."

"it's okay... it's okay, and this is about me, not you," you take a deep breath and that works for calming you down. kyle always knows how to keep you grounded.

"yeah, that's right, love." he plants another kiss in your cheek, and then one to your nose. "but you cannot neglect your meals like that, can you?"

"no, i can't..." the response comes automatically, you feel so safe with him knowing he's taking care of you that you don't mind whatever punishment he'll give you for not following the rules.

he hums in agreement, deep tone of his voice rumbling in his chest. he's already moving out of your arms and finding his place between your thighs, holding them spread to his liking.

"'m gonna use my mouth on you, and you'll feel really good, baby," he points out, matter-of-factly. "but just when you're about to cum, i'll stop," he adds, and you can feel yourself squirming already. kyle is too good with his mouth, and he knows that.

"and you'll take it. my good, precious baby can do it, yeah?"

fuck, this is going to be a long morning.

#cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty #cod #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #gaz call of duty #gaz cod #cod gaz #kyle garrick smut #gaz kyle garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz x you #sergeant kyle gaz garrick

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himbosandhardwear · 2 days ago

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He's managed to talk himself into - Robin thinks Eddie likes you and Wayne thinks it's about time - and out of - that's no guarantee of success and you just figured out you liked him four minutes ago, maybe sleep on it - asking Eddie out by the time he comes out of his room, finding Steve standing in the hallway like the twins in The Shining. At least that's what he assumes he looks like, based on the way Eddie jumps when he sees him.

“Jesus, Harrington, why save my ass if you were gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack three months later?”

He moves Steve bodily to the side so he can pass by, hands to Steve's arms, and then heads to the kitchen to dig through the cupboard above the sink.

“Wayne, have you seen the spider cup?” He asks as he leans up on his tiptoes to reach into the back. His shirt rides up and gives Steve his own heart attack when he catches a glimpse of the dimples on the small of his back.

Fuck. Yeah, not the first time Steve's seen Eddie's waist and gotten flustered. He's never felt so stupid. And he'd once chewed and eaten not one, not two, but three plastic grapes before realizing something was wrong.

“Check underneath,” Wayne says, snapping Steve's eyes away from Eddie's skin.

He opts to return to Eddie's room and wait; if there's a spider somewhere in the room, he'll take his chances.

He still has no idea what he's going to say to Eddie by the time he comes back, empty handed and pouting.

He glances down near Steve's feet. “Oh, she's gone anyway.”

“Who? The spider?”

“Yeah, you must've scared her back under the bed.”

“Cool. Good luck with that later.”

He shrugs like it's no big deal. Steve supposes you don't tattoo a big fuck off spider on your chest if you're scared of them.

“You figure out your big epiphany?” Eddie asks as he flops back down next to Steve. The bed jiggles with his weight.

“Mmhmm,” he confirms.

Eddie waits patiently for Steve to go on and when he doesn't, he gets a dry stare. “Is it a secret?”

“..........no?”

Eddie snorts. “You know, as the resident freak, it's my duty and my pleasure to inform you that you're being weird.”

Yeah, he knows that already. He rubs at his eyes, praying for inspiration, and somehow, it works.

“I'm heading to the VFW, boys. Money on the table for pizza if you want.”

They make eye contact as Eddie yells his thanks.

“He knows we both have money, right?”

“Yeah but he's never been able to treat me before. It's kinda sweet. Don't tell him I said that.”

“Never.” It is sweet and it's the exact thing he needed to push him into… “Hey, so you said something about Mexican food earlier?”

He swings his head up from where he'd just laid it down on the mattress. “Yeah!” He goes up on his elbows next. “You interested?”

His stomach swoops like he's on a roller coaster. “Yeah. You know a good place?”

“Hell yeah I do. If you don't mind a drive, there's a little joint in Indy that has enchiladas the size of your head.”

“Awesome. Tomorrow?”

He drums his hands on the bedspread in excitement. “Hell yeah! Let's make a day of it! The Plex might be playing something good and my favorite record shop is right around the corner.”

Dinner and a movie! God, he's nailing this. It was so much easier than he imagined-

“I'll pick Rob up first and then swing by your place, say noonish? Maybe oneish, I shouldn't promise noon.”

“Oh.”

Eddie looks up at the tone of his voice. “What? You wanted to drive?” The longer Steve doesn't answer the more worried he gets. “Or Rob can't come? I assume that's why you called her.”

“No,” he drawls, slow so he doesn't have to confess the truth right away.

“Okay?” Twin lines bracket his mouth, not sweet like his dimples but deep set frown lines that immediately make Steve feel like dirt.

“I thought maybe…it'd be just you and me?”

It might be that Eddie can't parse why Steve is being weird about something as normal as two friends spending the day together, but Steve's nervous system interprets Eddie's silence as apocalyptically bad. He starts fiddling with the frayed bit of his cutoffs so he doesn't have to look at Eddie anymore.

“Sure?” Eddie eventually answers. “Any particular reason why Robin isn't coming?”

Steve rubs at his eyes in frustration, convinced he's about to blow this whole thing to shit before he's even started. “How is it that I was better at this at fifteen than I am now?” He mutters. Probably because he was young and dumb and everyone wanted him so it was easy. After a moment to collect his courage, he looks Eddie in his huge Bambi eyes and says, “Because you generally don't invite your friends to go on a first date with somebody.”

“Date?” Eddie coughs.

“Yeah.”

“Date?” He asks again

“Yes.”

“Like, a date?”

“Just like a date.”

“As in you. And me. On a date?”

“Ideally.”

“.........Date?”

This would almost be funny if it wasn't so frustrating. “Edward Munson, would you like to go to dinner and a movie with me? Otherwise known as a date?”

He's still staring at Steve like maybe Steve is turning into a blueberry. Which reminds him the whole plan for today was supposed to be ‘get high and watch Willy Wonka’, but they'd both got distracted, being consumed with each other's company. And then Eddie changed his life forever by explaining what liking something felt like. Steve's used to having to have things explained to him but being talked through having a crush on someone is a new low.

“Why?”

“Why?” Steve boggles at him. “If you don't understand that part-”

Eddie waves both hands. “No, why me? Since when do you even… You're not… I don't understand where this is coming from.”

“Right,” he agrees, since this whole thing would seem sudden to Eddie, “uh, I guess since you said your interests consume you day and night, you become obsessed, you want to spend all day with them, and the first thing I thought about was…you.”

‘Me?’ Eddie mouths silently.

“Yeah. You. You're my interest. Took me a little bit to catch up, but, yeah, I'm totally obsessed with you.”

Eddie cracks a disbelieving laugh and then slaps a bunch of his loose hair in front of his face, like a little kid trying to hide.

“Is that okay?”

Eddie laughs some more but it's just hysterical enough that he gets it's not at his expense, it's still in disbelief.

“I don't want to rush you to make a decision but I'm kinda freaking out over here-”

Eddie launches himself across the bed and lands heavily in Steve's lap, which is pretty great.

He takes Steve's face in his hands and jiggles him a bit. “You like me?”

“Yep.”

“What if I kissed you?”

He snorts. “I'm not sure what world you live in where I admit to being obsessed with you and wanting to take you out but somehow I wouldn't want to kiss you.”

“So….yes?”

Fuck it. Steve pulls him down and kisses him. He kisses him like his subconscious had been more than aware he wanted to for months now.

They fall back onto the bed, Eddie still straddling him, and make out like it's 2am on prom night.

Things are starting to really heat up when all of a sudden Eddie starts giggling into Steve's mouth.

Steve pulls back enough to scowl a bit. “Wanna share with the class?”

“No.” He tries leaning in again but Steve stops him with a yank on his hair, which gets him a groan. He files that info away for later.

“Seriously, what's so funny?”

“Agh! Nothing! I was just thinking about how I used to fantasize about this but I always had this grand speech prepared first. You know, back when I had any pride. I was gonna tell you all about how I wouldn't be your secret and if you wanted me it had to be out in the open, but I'm realizing now I could not give two shits about that. I'll be your back door man. Hell, you could get married and have kids and I'll be the other woman for as long as you want.”

He tries to kiss Steve again but he yanks even harder this time. “Eddie, that is fucked up and I'm going to be so mad at you later for even saying it but first, that's not even an option considering Robin and Wayne already know.”

Eddie leans up on his hands, looking down at Steve in shock. “They do?! Wait, how the hell does Wayne know?!”

“Obviously I told Robin as soon as I figured it out and Wayne heard the whole conversation through the wall. He thinks it's about time I got my shit together, so I think we've probably been flirting with each other a little too much in his presence for him not to know.”

Eddie scowls, staring off into the distance as he contemplates this. “That’s why he left, huh?”

“Yeah. He's an ally.” Steve giggles.

Eddie looks back down. “Well then. Can't waste this opportunity. You're cool with kissing… How do you feel about blow jobs?”

Steve rolls Eddie onto his back and shows him how cool he is.

Tag List

@ravenfrog @disrespectedgoatman @grtwdsmwhr @pidgeaf7 @quartzandsundry @resident-gay-bitch @sheldarp @karakro @beckkthewreck @xocowilde @racer-reader @comedictragedy

Steve is rifling through Eddie's collection of magazines, while he's waiting on Eddie and Wayne to get done fixing the dryer(Wayne's fixing, Eddie's getting in the way it sounds like), when he realizes how insane the assortment is; Heavy Metal, Car and Driver, Rolling Stone, National Geographic, OMNI, MAD, even a copy of Good Housekeeping. It's all so Eddie though, to have so many varying interests. He's a little jealous, if he's being honest with himself.

"You have a lot of stuff," he comments when Eddie comes back, closing the copy of Rolling Stone.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, let me just..." He starts kicking a pile of clothes under the bed.

Steve huffs a laugh. "No, I meant you have a lot of interests." He waves the magazine. "Hobbies and stuff."

Eddie nods, continues to shove piles of stuff under the bed anyway. "I guess, yeah. I tend to jump from thing to thing though. Last night it was painting miniatures, tonight it could be writing a song. I don't really get a say in which one. Oh, nice, I've been looking for this," he says, holding up a random T-shirt.

He watches Eddie get distracted by the new discovery and leave the rest of the pile where it's at, smiling to himself as Eddie goes on a tangent about merch vendors at concerts being the real enemy of the people.

"How do you know what you like?" Steve inadvertently blurts out during a gap in Eddie's tale.

He turns toward Steve. "What do you mean?"

What does he mean? "I guess... It's just, I like cars and sports and girls. That's, like, kind of it. And since I started being friends with Henderson and Robin and you I've figured out that's, like, the most basic shit a guy could be into. Level One Dude Interests. So, I guess I just want to know how you find other things? And how will I know if I'm interested?"

"Hmm." He frowns softly. "I've never had to think about it before. I kinda just...fall into things. I like it or I don't."

"Okay, but what's it feel like?"

Eddie puts the shirt down, forgotten again in a moment, and sits. "What does it feel like when you think about cars and sports and girls?"

Steve really thinks about it. Nothing is as consuming as when he was younger, but he does remember a vague sense of excitement, a feeling of connection with the people he surrounded himself with, who shared his interests. But he hasn't felt that in a while. Maybe he wasn't as into those things as he thought, was only into the connection.

"You're having very deep thoughts over there," Eddie points out with a grin.

"Shut up." He grins back. "I think maybe I don't actually know what it feels like to like something because I like it, not just because everyone else likes it. You know what I mean?"

"Well, yes but no." He waves both hands to indicate his person and also the chaos of the room around them.

"See? This is why I'm asking you. If anyone can help me figure out what I like it's you."

Eddie slaps both hands together and rubs. "A project! Excellent idea!"

Wasn't his idea but sure.

"First we have to get you exposure to new things. Movies, TV, music, culture. Then we'll rate how you feel about each demographic. Your music taste is already improving so that's good. Movies, I'm thinking 12 Angry Men to start. Food? Authentic Mexican. We're gonna get you excited about shit!" He seems excited enough for the both of them, which is great. "Excitement is key! You want enthusiasm, yearning even. Your interests should consume your every waking thought. When I'm consuming a new hobby, I'm focused like a shark, I'm obsessed. I go to bed thinking about it and wake up thinking about it. Excited to get back to whatever it is. I wanna talk about it, share it with other people. Complete and total immersion. You wanna marry that interest. You know what I mean?"

Steve blinks at him, stunned into silence. Eddie's just described how Steve feels about him...

Oh.

#one million apologies if i got any of the tags wrong or i missed one #this is probably finished now btw #thanks everyone for the kind words #steddie #ficlet #my writing

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blackcoldcrackedheart · 2 days ago

Text

"And then I text Bobby, make sure he's okay"

"Tommy, right?" Tommy turns to see a young woman, maybe early twenties. He had seen and met her briefly before.

"I don't know if you remember me from the medal ceremony? I'm Athena's daughter."

Tommy vaguely remembers, "Yeah, I-" her name is a month but he's blanking on which month. "I'm sorry, it's May or -"

She smiles, it's awkward and tight, but it's there as she goes to shake his hand. "It's May." She licks her lips and looks towards the direction of where Evan, Howie, Hen, and Eddie are standing at- they're in small group, their head bowed as they talk amongst themselves.

Tommy tries to give them space.

Bobby's wake is heavy and a lot all at once. Tommy tries hard to not cry and while he's giving Evan his space, he doesn't want to go too far.

"I'm sorry. About Bobby, I can already imagine how great of a step-father he was."

May nods, wiping away a few tears, "He was a great dad, I'm gonna miss him." She sighed, she looks over again. "I know it's none of my business, but are you and Buck together again?"

Tommy flinched, he looks down at his cup of water, unsure what they are or even if he could answer the question. "I rather not misinform you." He hopes it sounds diplomatic enough if it gets back to Evan that May asked him about their relationship status.

She sniffs, huffing out a soft laugh. "It's just-" she looks at Evan again, her brows furrowong with worry. "I know that Bobby saw Buck as his kid, and I know Buck saw Bobby as his dad."

Tommy knew that.

He knew what it was like to lose a parent.

He lost his mom.

He had seen people react to losing their parents during calls.

He saw Evan lose Bobby that night.

He watched the man he loved more than anyone breakdown in grief as he lost his father.

"I don't know if Buck has talked to you or the others about losing Bobby, I tried but he basically said it wasn't about him."

That has Tommy frowning now too.

He doesn't want to disclose what Evan has told him, he doesn't want to break Evan's trust and tell May that he's had to hold Evan as the other man sobbed till he fell asleep twice now.

"We've talked. He knows I'll be here for him as long as he needs." Tommy tells her softly.

"Good." May nods, "I-I know that Buck and I aren't close, but I-I just want to make sure he's okay."

Tommy hums in agreement, he notices that she hasn't stopped fidgeting since she approached him. "How are you holding up?" He asks her.

He sees May's eyes fill with tears and he quickly gives her a napkin from the table besides them that had a small serving of food and water.

"Thank you." Her voice sounds so wobbly and young that Tommy feels himself start to tear up. "I'll be okay," she sighs, "I'm just really worried about my mom. She isn't talking about what happened but I know her. I know she's angry about losing Bobby."

Tommy believes her, he had heard the others admit the same thing. Especially Howie, who was riddled with guilt about losing Bobby.

"She's probably not going to be in a mood to talk about what happened for a while, the best we can do right now is just be there for her and the others." Tommy tells her, he knows it's generic advice but it's the only thing that makes sense to him. He can't fix what happened, he can't make it all better.

He can't bring back Bobby.

As much as he wishes he could.

"I know." May tells him dishearteningly, blowing her nose on the napkin. "It's not fair." She admits in a small voice as she looks at her mom, Athena is consoling an older woman who Tommy thinks is Bobby's mom.

"None of this is fair." He agrees quietly.

There's pain radiating from his neck to his shoulders and he's pretty sure the cool damp spot he's feeling on his chest is from Evan drooling on him.

The living room is still pretty dark, but Tommy could see strays of light from the sun rising coming through the front window.

He squints at the timer on the DVD player.

It's just 6:38 am.

So they managed to sleep for at least 2 hours more.

Progress.

Evan had woken up from a nightmare. The same nightmare of losing Bobby and waking up in a panic.

This was the third time now and Tommy had used Evan’s phone of sending a text message to his therapist about booking an emergency session (with Evan's permission).

They had moved from their bedroom to the backyard to get some fresh air and drink some herbal tea and then moved to the living room.

He knew Evan slept better when they were cuddled together so he tried not to move despite the pain in his neck and shoulders.

He thought Evan was still asleep, but he heard the other man groan, his voice rough with sleep and pain as he asks Tommy, "What time issit?"

Tommy cards his fingers through Evan's sweaty curls, "Quarter to 7, almost." He presses his lips to Evan's hairline, believing the other man will just go back to sleep.

Instead Evan reaches over to the side table, the friction between them has Tommy gritting his teeth as Evan reaches over his head to grab his phone.

Tommy doesn't say anything but he can see Evan opening up his text messages and messaging Bobby.

'Hey, are you okay?'

Tommy doesn't say anything but he can see the message from the day before.

It's not a different number, Tommy knows that it's Bobby's number that responded back yesterday.

'Hey, are you okay?'

'I'm okay, Buck.'

He's not sure what to say or even ask as Evan lays his head down back on Tommy’s chest. The hand clutching the phone is splayed to the side and hanging off the couch.

Tommy knew about Evan messaging Bobby, it was something Evan started after coming out of a coma. It was something he did because, as Evan explained it, in the coma dream he couldn't save Bobby, so he needed to know that in reality Bobby was okay.

It was the first thing he did every morning since.

Now...

Evan's phone buzzed, and Tommy could only frown as Evan blearily looks as the screen.

'I'm okay, Buck.'

Evan huffs out in relief and let's his arm hang down again. There's a soft thud sound that Tommy knows is Evan dropping the phone.

"Athena's okay." He tells Tommy sleepily, there's an edge to his voice that Tommy knows is about nightmare.

Tommy clutches him and despite Evan's eyes are closed, he can see the tears clutching and falling from Evan's lashes and down his nose and cheeks.

"Hey."

Tommy passes a glass of lemonade to May as he sits next to her.

She looks at the glass and then at him, "Lemonade? Really? Tommy, I'm over 21."

Tommy purses his lips and tries not to smile as he take a sip of his own glass of lemonade. "I'm not giving the Sergent's kid alcohol. Even if the kid is an adult who has a degree from USC now."

May laughs, looking around the room at her graduation party. She had told her mom it wasn't necessary for them to celebrate her graduation.

But May figured the party was what was needed after coping with losing Bobby 8 months ago.

"How is he now?" May asks, nodding in the direction of Buck. He was standing with Athena and Michael and David, his face bright as whatever he was saying got the trio to laugh. Athena was clutching his arm, her head tilted back as Buck waved his hands excitedly around.

"Better." Tommy answers honestly. Evan was doing better, he still had rough days- days in where he would shut down and made Tommy worry.

But those days were getting farther in between now.

"How's Athena?"

May turns to him, smiling. "Better."

They look at Buck and Athena again, the two laughing together as David starts talking this time.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here, Buckley." Athena knows she sounds cold, but she can't help it. She's annoyed that Buck is here.

Buck isn't religious as far as she knew.

She had went to Bobby's church to feel something.

Anything besides anger and hurt.

Bobby's funeral was only a day ago.

She was going back to work tomorrow.

She needed to get her head back into the game by tonight.

She thought attending mass would make her feel better. She wasn't expecting to see a familiar head of curls sitting three pews in front of her.

"Wasn't expecting to be here." Buck admits, his voice is rough and Athena can hear the cracks in it. She looks at his face, his skin is blotchy and she sees how blood shot and teary eyed he looks.

She wasn't close to Buck.

But she knew how much Bobby loved him.

She knew how much Buck loved Bobby too.

She feels her lower lip wobble as she sits next to him.

"Is it helping?" She asks him, looking straight ahead because she knows she's close to breaking.

She doesn't want to break again.

"No." Buck admits tearfully, he sounds fed up. Athena still isn't looking at him but she hears him sniff. "I-I don't know, Bobby always relied on God to get through the bad days, I thought maybe if I came here-"

"That God could help you too?"

"Uh, no? I-I thought it could help me feel close to Bobby. I-whenever I had a bad day I would go to him."

Athena feels her eyes burn with tears again.

"Why are you here?" Buck asks her after awhile.

She feels herself become fidgety, her knee won't stop bouncing as she looks ahead still. "I figured coming here would bring me some peace for tomorrow." She answers half honestly.

She hears Buck scoff, "is it working?"

Athena feels herself tapping her nails against the pew, she feels tears start to fall. "No." She whispers as she realizes that despite her best efforts she breaking down again.

She feels Buck's arms go around her and she breaks more, clutching Buck's shirt as they both cry.

"I don't- I don't know how to move on from this, Buck."

"Me neither." He tells her once they pull apart, the crying was cathartic. Buck holds her hand tightly, needing something to ground him.

He looks nervous as he asks, "Uh, there's this thing. That I do with Bobby- did, I guess." He frowns as he corrects himself. He wipes away more tears as he tries to speak but his voice is horse. "I-I would message him, every-every morning and ask if he's okay."

Athena chuckles softly, she knew about Buck's early morning texts. How much Bobby adored it, it made him smile every morning.

"I know." She tells him, waiting for his point.

"I-I was wondering, maybe I -I could text message you now? I-I don't know when you're planning on sto-"

"Not yet."

Athena knows it silly to keep paying for Bobby's phone line but she can't do it yet.

"Sooo, maybe I can text message Bobby and you- you could answer?"

Athena looks at him.

Buck hangs his head down, his laugh sounds so self-deprecating to her own ears.

"Yeah, I know, stupid-"

She squeezes his hand, "I think it sounds like a great idea, Buck."

She knows that Buck has the 118, Maddie, and Tommy.

She has her kids and Michael has been there for her, so has Anne and Charlie.

But Buck was special to Bobby.

He was his kid.

And Athena didn't want to lose that part of Bobby.

Buck knew he wasn't Bobby's family, not officially. But he wanted to be. He wanted to make sure that the people Bobby loved where okay, but he also wanted to be apart of their lives. He wanted to have something to still tie him to Bobby.

Athena allowing him to be there meant the world to him. It meant he was really a part of Bobby's family.

"You going to be okay?"

"Getting there, you?

"Getting there too."

#bathena #bucktommy #buck and bobby #tw grief #athena and buck

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chaos--s · 2 days ago

Text

platonic yandere! superhero x sidekick!reader

warnings; violence, infantilization, yandere behavior

It's been a year since you started in the Hero's agency, having recently been approved to be a sidekick. But it didn't matter, you were fulfilling your dreams so you could endure two years of grunt work. You were working to your dream of finally becoming a superhero. The ones that were on TV, flying around and helping those in need.

Being a hero. So when you were assigned to work under the hero, it was like a dream come true. Siren. The noble hero, the man that laid his life for the city. Of all the superheroes you could've been put with, you were placed with him. And you couldn't be happier.

Things seemed normal, first impressions were amazing. He was exactly like you imagined. Humble, kind and generous. He was exactly what a true hero was.

But your relationship with him started to feel...weird. A light way to put it, but you couldn't find the words to explain how he treated you.

Sidekicks were meant to trail along with all the missions that their heroes were assigned to, having to train as well as learning alongside their mentors.

Siren had started to stop you from following him to his missions.

Like today, for example.

"Multiple villains have been spotted downtown, Siren? Do you think you're up for it?" Mirage asked, another high-tier hero. Siren simply smiled. "Always."

You were standing next to your mentor, slight bouncing on your toes. You hadn't been on a mission in a while so maybe, just maybe this mission he will need your help in. There's multiple villains, obviously he would need more manpower, right?

You had tuned out of the meeting but when it finally ended, you stared at Siren. Expecting him to ask you to suit up and follow him. But all he does is smile down at you and pats your shoulder.

"Wish me good luck!" He winks before turning around to take off. You blink twice in confusion. What?

You appear in front of him before he can exit, teleportation can come in handy sometimes, placing a hand on his chest. "What do you mean- am I not coming with you?"

He sighs, smiling at you like a tired father as he pushes your hand down. "This is something I can handle on my own. We'll continue training afterwards, alright?"

"Wait hold on," You scoff. "You said this yesterday, it's been days since I've been on an actual mission. I'm joining this one."

Mirage is a witness to all this. Feeling slightly bad for you, he decides to speak up on behalf of you. He notices how hard you train so that you could become the best hero you could be.

"C'mon, let the kid on the mission. It's a buncha low-level villains anyways, nothing dangerous." He says.

"I didn't realize you were apart of this conversation, Mirage." Siren's voice is darker now, it surprises both you and Mirage when he turns around to glare his fellow hero down. As if he was glaring at a villain.

"I-It was just a suggestion-"

"I don't think you need to be reminded of where you stand and where I stand, right? They are my sidekick. I decide when they join." You have never seen him react in this way, it scares you a little. He turns back to face you and you jump a little when he looks at you. The same iconic smile. "Don't worry bud, I'll be done with the mission in the blink of an eye."

He pats your head before walking off.

"I-" You look at Mirage. "I didn't know he would-"

"It's fine kid, at least he's finally showing his true colors." He mutters as he massages his temples. "Sorry you couldn't go on the mission, I know how much you wanted to join."

You didn't even care about the mission anymore, now all you could think about was your mentor. Siren. You wave him off. "It's alright... thanks for trying."

You offered a small smile before leaving the meeting room, trudging back to your dorm room. Your mentor wasn't the kind man you thought he was.

Mirage had been looking after you for a while now, after that whole incident you found yourself avoiding Siren as much as possible. Because of this, he had become more unstable to the rest of the Hero agency. Snapping at people more often, completely disregarding his heroic reputation.

You had essentially resigned from being his sidekick. Siren shouldn't care about that, you were just a sidekick the Hero agency could easily find him a new one. But he doesn't want a new sidekick, he wanted you back.

His sidekick, you were his. All he wanted to do was to protect you, and you do this? Betray him by going to the number two hero? What did Mirage have that he didn't? He was the number one hero for god's sake.

What he wanted, he got. And he wasn't going to let some low-level hero take you away from him.

Siren was quickly spiraling without his little sunshine of a sidekick near him, but you on the other hand? You were thriving.

Mirage never underestimated you, always allowing you to join in missions and actually train to be a good hero. He believed in you. He did what a good mentor was supposed to do.

"Holy shit kid! You did amazing today, I'm proud." He cheered, shaking your shoulders in excitement. You laughed slightly at his excitement. "Thanks, Mirage."

"No problem. Go clean up, we'll debrief later." You nod and quickly ran off to your room. When you entered, the first thing you see is Siren sitting on your bed.

You almost jump out of your skin at the sight of your ex-mentor. "What are you doing in my room, Siren."

"You got hurt." He doesn't answer your question, his eyes land on the few scrapes along your arms that you had acquired during the fight. You rolled your eyes. "Barely. Just a few scratches, that's all. You didn't answer my question."

"I'm still responsible for you, darling. Still my sidekick, even if Mirage has been training you in my absence." He says your new mentor's name like it's poison.

"I was wondering about that, you disappearing for weeks on end. Not really heroic of you."

He laughs a little. "I guess not. But I was preparing something. Planning on adopting soon actually, thought it would be finally time for me to have a kid of my own."

You snort. "Alright, good for you I guess. Still doesn't explain what you're doing in my room." You were getting tired of this friendly back and forth.

"...Do you like tormenting me like this?" True colors, huh? "Abandoning me for some- some irrelevant no name hero, as if you weren't under my care for a whole year?"

You shrug. "What did you want me to do? You didn't let me go on any missions, was it because you thought I was weak?"

"I cared about you, is that such a crime? Someone as...as young as you are shouldn't be fighting villains. You could've gotten hurt!" He points to your arms. "And you did get hurt. Under his watch."

You wanted to laugh. If he thought the scrapes were bad, he should've seen you a few weeks ago when you were landed in the hospital with a broken arm. But nonetheless, he was the same as before. Underestimating you and making you seem like glass that couldn't get hurt.

"This is nothing, you need to leave me alone.” You were getting angrier by the moment. A small part of you had hoped that he changed. That he wasn’t the same overbearing figure you despised. But here he was. The exact same jerk you stopped admiring.

“I’ve given you space, just like all those dumb parenting books tell me to do. But honestly? That isn't want you need." He stands up, watching as you started to back up. "I'm going to make you listen to me, your little hero fun is stopping now."

"You can't stop me, Siren." He raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk grew on his face. "Can't I?"

There was a reason why he was named after the mythical creature known to lure sailors with their voices. He had a similar ability, he could control people with his words. Commanding them to do things that they wouldn't want to do.

He had promised that he would never use it on you.

"Sleep."

Within seconds you had fallen asleep, falling right into his waiting arms. How silly of you to think you could fight him on anything, what he wants he gets.

#familial yandere #parental yandere #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #tw yandere #yandere

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seventhconsumedsigil · 2 days ago

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The following is a record of the infamous Speech of Defiance by the heretic wizard known as Ao, formerly proscribed by the Tower under penalty of immediate execution, indisputably the pivotal point between the Age of Hierarchy and the Age of Madness. This copy is kindly produced by now-Archmage Vath, who was in attendance at the time as the scribe and only other direct witness, and so could make this copy after that proscription became dead law.

Archmage Telluric - We meet here today to discuss the "alleged" heresies of Mage Ao, who stands before us. Under my powers as Archmage, I shall sit in judgement over this case, and serve as executioner when it concludes. Apprentice Vath holds position as Scribe and will ensure the transmission is clear and properly archived. The courtroom is sealed against any trickery your fetid allies might pull, so don't-

Mage Ao - Oh do shut up, you withered old windbag. We all know why we're here, and we all know what's going to happen. Stuff the formality.

Telluric - [A lot of spluttering that I don't see the point in writing down. Heretic, lich, blasphemer, none of it really coherently strung together into a sentence. He did heat the air a by 20 degrees through the whole chamber while doing it though, which was an impressive display of unchanneled power if not for how uncomfortable it made my seat. This isn't helped by the subsequent effort of will Ao made. It would take us months to work out what he had done, but at the time it felt like being suffocated by very soft pillows. An uncomfortable combination, let me tell you]

Ao - Sweet silence. Ah, that's better. What, surprised that I can do that without you opposing it? Because I'm not effecting you, Archmage. The air around you, that's another matter.

[This was patently ridiculous, as effecting non-discrete objects like that should have required a ritual circle to manage the definition by common understanding. I know this sounds horribly archaic now, but magic was a lot rougher back then. For example, the wards sealing the courtroom were on a hard-set timer of 1/23rd of a solar cycle and would not budge unless blasted down before that time. Appreciate how we can do things in non-prime numbers nowadays.]

Ao- Now, I don't much care for defending myself to the likes of you all, but let me get a few things straight, since if I'm going to be condemned I want it to be accurate. Lichdom, the act of binding one's dead and dormant soul back into the body, has a few important differences. It loses the ability to naturally grow, leaving consumption the only viable path for increased magical potential, but more importantly it deforms the soul through shear forces. It tears at it, opening holes that cannot be healed without more raw material, leading to the legendary soul-thirst. What I have done is much simpler and far, far stupider, despite the fact it works! I just filled in my skull with raw magic and let my soul press against that to induce cognition instead, at least where the scraps that used to be my brain were. That causes stress, yes, but compressive stress. My soul is a mass of calluses and grows so slowly I'll probably reach Archmage level potential... approximately never, or at least an order of magnitude late, but there are upsides. You would not believe how badly optimised that sack of fat in your skull is. We've spent over ten thousand years killing anything that strays from the nice safe bounds of known magic, and arguably for good reason in some cases, but the rest... no, you've all been sat on your thrones for too long, got too comfortable with being right in the ways we teach even the dumbest apprentice not to be, before the immortality abrades their common sense away. And here I am rambling almost as bad as you are, in front of such an audience. Terrible habit, spent too long lecturing and not enough fighting. Well, I suppose a little class demonstration to end it off is due then. Watch closely, oh Archmage, and consider this. If I can run on a substrate of magic, why should I remain constrained to one piece of meat?

[At this point, Ao proceeded to fall over stone dead, in what was shockingly actually his plan. The autopsy revealed that was in fact his body, but the first sighting of one of his crystal spiders a week afterwards confirmed that he was in fact perfectly alive and had figured out body-transference a whole month before, and it was almost safe when he used it. The Hivemind of Ao would go on to become, as Ao liked to style himself, A Big Damn Problem. They still called him a lich for the next sixteen years though, and I have it on the best of authority it drove him demented that entire time.]

When a mage is badly injured, magic sometimes "fills in the gaps"—growing an arcane hand or leg. You suffered brain damage that would have killed most. Magic filled in your mind.

#writing prompts #fantasy #Honestly just an excuse to make up and then ramble about distinctions in a magic system

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deliciousangelfestival · 2 days ago

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FINAL LAP - B. Barnes | 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female reader

Summary: She starts her dream job at SPEED, a top PR company for sports events, only to find out her boss is Bucky Barnes—the same guy she once accidentally injured in college.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I published my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Your heart still buzzed with excitement as you stepped through the glass doors of SPEED. It was your first day — finally. You had found out you were accepted last Friday, and ever since, you could barely sit still.

Today was Monday. Game day.

You walked up to the front desk, your shoes tapping lightly against the marble floor. Behind the counter, the receptionist looked up with a friendly smile. You offered a small, slightly sheepish grin and handed over the letter you clutched in your hands.

"Hi! I’m a new employee. I don’t have my ID card yet," you explained, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

The receptionist nodded immediately, typing something quickly into her computer before pressing a button under the desk. A soft beep sounded, and the access gate unlocked.

"12th floor," she said, gesturing toward the elevators.

"Thank you," you said, a little breathless, flashing her a grateful smile.

As the elevator doors slid closed, you let out a slow, deep breath, willing your excitement (and nerves) to settle.

"Morning! You're early," a familiar voice called out.

When the elevator dinged open at the 12th floor, the first thing you saw was the giant silver logo mounted on the wall: SPEED — sleek, bold, confident. Just like the company itself.

You felt a rush of pride. You had dreamed about working here since your final year of college, inspired by your love for sports — especially running — and the buzz of live events. It was why you studied Public Relations and Business in the first place.

You turned to see Natasha approaching, her heels clicking lightly on the polished floor. She wore a smart blazer over jeans and had a coffee in hand. You instantly recognized her — she was the HR manager who had interviewed you online.

"Have to make a good impression," you replied with a slightly nervous laugh, smoothing down your blazer.

Natasha grinned, waving off your nerves. "Chill out. We love new kids around here." She gave you a playful nudge with her elbow, then gestured for you to follow her. "Come on, let’s get you set up."

She led you through the open office — a lively space with pops of color, trophies on shelves, and people already busy at their desks. She stopped at a table near the windows, dropping off a small box of starter supplies.

"You'll be working with Sam," she said, glancing at her sleek digital watch. "He should be here in... 3… 2—"

“♪ Wake me up before you go-go… ♪”

Someone's voice floated down the hallway, slightly off-key but full of energy.

You turned just as a tall guy with a wild head of curls and a worn denim jacket slid into view, dance-walking as he sang along to the music blasting from his earbuds.

Sam.

He caught sight of Natasha — and you — and dramatically yanked out one earbud.

"Hey!" he grinned, jogging the last few steps. "New blood?"

Natasha smirked. "This is Y/N. She’s joining your team."

Sam held out a hand without hesitation, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to SPEED, rookie. Hope you can keep up."

You shook his hand, laughing. "I'll try my best."

"That's the spirit," Sam said with an approving nod. "Come on, I’ll show you the ropes — or at least where the good snacks are hidden."

You were focused on your screen, typing notes, when you heard Natasha's teasing voice from across the office.

The rest of the morning flowed surprisingly easily. Your tasks were manageable, and everyone around you — from the senior staff to the interns — went out of their way to be patient and helpful. You never once felt out of place.

Instead of drowning in information, you found yourself actually smiling as you learned new things.

"You're late," she called.

A beat.

"I know," a guy’s voice answered, full of laughter. "At least I broke another record."

You were about to sneak a look at the source when Sam suddenly called out, "Come on! I'll show you where the storage is."

That voice… it sounded strangely familiar.

You furrowed your brow and glanced at your watch — it was already 11 a.m. Seriously, who even dared to stroll into the office this late?

Whatever curiosity you had instantly slipped from your mind. You grabbed your notepad and hurried after Sam.

He led you down a hallway lined with posters of past events — marathons, soccer tournaments, cycling championships. Finally, he stopped in front of a door labeled "Storage."

"This," Sam said, pushing the door open with a flourish, "is where we keep all the good stuff — supplies, merch, and sometimes, leftover medals from events."

He walked you around the space, explaining what was where and what you'd need most often. You listened carefully, occasionally nodding and asking questions, trying to absorb everything.

You blinked. "What? For me? You guys don’t have to—"

After a few minutes, Sam clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's head back. We’re having lunch together in the cafeteria.

Welcome party for you."

"It’s tradition," Sam cut you off, grinning. "We like to eat together at lunch, not at night."

You smiled at that. "That's really nice. So everyone can go home and rest early."

Sam snorted, shaking his head. "Of course not. So we can hit the gym."

"Oh." You laughed. Everyone here was athletic. Even lunchtime had a purpose.

Just then, Sam’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen and nodded. "Yup. Let’s go back. They said the food’s ready."

The moment you walked back with Sam toward the cafeteria, the nerves hit you like a wave.

Oh no. That meant... introductions. Again.

You tugged lightly at the hem of your blazer, trying to steady your breathing.

When you both entered the cafeteria, it felt like every pair of eyes turned to you.

You instinctively straightened your posture, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights.

You wandered a little, weaving through tables filled with colorful platters and food stations, until you spotted Natasha stacking some tacos onto her plate.

But the atmosphere quickly softened.

People waved, smiled, called out casual greetings. It wasn’t tense or awkward — it was warm, almost like a big family gathering.

You made your way over. "Everyone here is really nice," you said, voice a little in awe.

"Told you," Natasha said, smiling without looking up.

You watched her build a taco with almost suspicious expertise. "This idea’s really great, y’know. Welcoming the newcomer."

Natasha chuckled. "Yeah, it was mine."

"I told you, it was a great idea," said a tall man standing beside her, casually stuffing a donut into his mouth.

You stepped closer, squinting a little, before pointing at him without thinking. "You!"

That voice.

Your stomach flipped.

The man smirked, still chewing. His smirk only grew wider when he saw the recognition (and horror) dawning on your face.

Natasha glanced between you two, curious. "Wait — you guys know each other?"

You and the tall man answered at the same time:

"He's my senior from college," you said quickly.

"She broke my leg," he said, still smirking.

Natasha gasped, nearly dropping her taco. You, meanwhile, slapped a hand over your face. "It was a misunderstanding!"

Sam, of course, couldn’t resist sliding into the conversation, grinning wide. "Ooh, this is gonna be good. So what exactly did you do that broke our boss’s leg?"

The man, your college senior, laughed softly and leaned casually against the taco station. "Don’t tell me you had no idea who owns the company you’re working for. You're still the same."

You froze.

"...Boss?" you echoed, your voice a whisper.

You stared at him, utterly mortified.

But now that you really looked at him — the strong build, the confident posture, the easy authority — the same narcissist.

No, you genuinely had no idea.

You were drawn to SPEED because of the incredible projects they managed — not because you had stalked their leadership.

Not once did you check who the founder was.

Bucky Barnes.

Your mouth went dry.

Your eyes darted down instinctively to his leg. "It... doesn’t still hurt, right?" you asked weakly.

Bucky chuckled — low, warm, and amused. "Nah. Healed a long time ago."

Still, your ears burned with embarrassment.

It was your first day on the job, and your new boss was already mentioning how you were the reason he spent six weeks on crutches.

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♀️👟🎽

This wasn’t exactly the grand entrance you imagined for yourself.

But — like you told Natasha — it really was a misunderstanding!

Flashback

Four Years Ago

The green yard was buzzing with excitement, filled with young people who couldn’t wait to start their college life. Laughter, chatter, and the rustling of luggage wheels filled the air as students moved about, wide-eyed and eager. Some clutched campus maps, others already wore university hoodies, proud to belong.

Among the crowd, a number of parents had come along, helping their children settle into their new homes. Some struggled up the dorm steps with heavy boxes, others fussed over making the beds just right, smoothing out sheets with trembling hands as if reluctant to let go. It was a bittersweet day — a day of firsts and goodbyes.

Just like them, your parents were there with you, standing near the entrance of your dorm room, looking a little lost. Your mom kept adjusting the corner of your pillow, while your dad lingered by the door, arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he was trying to hold himself back.

"You sure you want to live on campus today? You could stay at the hotel with us," your mom asked, her voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, smiling bravely. "No. I want to stay here."

Your dad, ever the protective one, grumbled under his breath, "I wish your cousin Steve would be here."

Steve, your older cousin, was supposed to be your lifeline here — already two semesters ahead at this university, he had been a big reason your parents even agreed to let you study so far from home. But just weeks before your freshman year started, Steve had been accepted into a study exchange program abroad for one semester.

Still, your parents clearly struggled to let go. Your mom wiped her eyes quickly when she thought you weren't looking. Your dad shifted awkwardly, pretending to check his phone.

You didn’t mind. Honestly, you were excited.

This was your chance — to step out of the cocoon you had always lived in, to stretch your wings without someone hovering nearby. For once, you wanted to find your own way.

"Mom, Dad," you said gently, stepping closer to them, "I'm fine. Besides, Auntie's house is nearby if anything happens."

Your mom nodded, blinking away tears. She reached out and pulled you into a tight hug. "Can’t believe my baby is growing up."

You hugged her back just as tightly, feeling the lump rise in your own throat. "I’ll be alright. Thank you for coming here with me."

You spent a little more time with them, helping your dad find his way back to the hotel on the GPS, laughing when your mom tried to stuff one more set of snacks into your already full closet, before finally walking them to their car. As you waved them off, your heart squeezed, but excitement soon drowned out the sadness.

There was one thing you were especially looking forward to — joining the Running Community Club. The university was famous for it. Their team had not only dominated local marathons but had competed — and won — internationally. It wasn’t just a club. It was a legacy.

As soon as they left, you turned back toward campus, your steps lighter. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and something electric — possibility.

This is it.

You were finally here, in the university you had dreamed about for years.

You wandered through the campus, past colorful booths and groups of students calling out offers to join everything from theater to debate. Your heart skipped when you finally spotted the booth you were looking for — The Horizon Running Club — under a giant banner flapping proudly in the breeze.

But it seemed you were late.

A long line had already formed in front of the booth, most of them girls, clutching applications excitedly. You caught snippets of conversation — giggles, whispers, excited chatter about someone named Bucky Barnes.

As you got in line, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out quickly and saw a text from Steve:

You knew that name.

Bucky Barnes was practically a legend here. He had broken a state record last semester and had been featured on the news — and all over your cousin Steve’s social media. Steve had practically posted Bucky’s winning sprint in slow motion.

"Hey, I just got Wi-Fi. Still registering for a new SIM card. Congrats on officially becoming a University Student!"

You smiled, thumbs moving fast to reply:

"What time is it over there?"

A few seconds later:

"3 a.m. Have you found the running booth?"

"Yup."

"I bet there’s a lot of people who want to join. Are you sure you want this? Our club only looks for people who are really committed."

"I am."

"Well, no turning back now. I'll text my friend Bucky about you. You have my full recommendation."

"Thank you for being the best cousin in the world!"

There was a long pause before he finally replied:

"...."

You waited, staring at the screen, but no more messages came.

It seemed like he had lost Wi-Fi access again.

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you stepped forward as the line moved.

You couldn't help but feel your heartbeat pick up — excitement and nerves battling in your chest.

At the running club booth, the members were clearly exhausted. After hours of registration and interviews, their energy was running low. They were growing tired of hearing the same reasons from hopeful candidates—everyone wanted to join for the same old reasons: to improve their time, get healthier, or follow the latest trend. But this club wasn't just about enthusiasm; it was about commitment.

They only wanted serious runners, people who could balance their training with their academic responsibilities. This was why their club was so respected by the faculty, including the dean. Most of the members managed to juggle their schoolwork and practice sessions without fail, setting an example for the entire university.

One member, Milo, looked especially drained. His face was flushed, and his shoulders slumped as he leaned against the booth, scribbling down notes. "We have a lot of people who want to join," he muttered, exhaustion in his voice. "But most of them have the same reason."

He glanced over at his friend, who was busy taking photos with a group of fresh-faced students. "Not my fault they're impressed with my time," Bucky replied with a cocky grin, his hands still holding the camera. "But it's easier to eliminate them. If their reason is just to improve their time and health, we’ll probably let them in."

Milo sighed deeply, rubbing a hand across his face. "If Steve was here, he wouldn’t say the same thing. He’d probably... well, he'd have a different view on this." Milo couldn't help but think that the beginnings of this club had been a bit narcissistic, especially with the attention Bucky was getting.

When your turn came, you handed over your registration paper, only to be met with a question that you hadn't anticipated.

"Hi, thank you for wanting to join this club. May I know why you want to join?" Milo asked, looking up at you with a tired but kind smile.

You blinked, taken aback. You had expected the registration process to be quick, just handing in your paperwork and moving on. But here you were, caught off guard. You turned your gaze to the person standing beside Milo.

You hesitated for a second, then met Bucky’s eyes. He was watching you, his arms crossed and a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Something about his gaze made you feel both nervous and challenged at the same time. You squared your shoulders and looked back at Milo, answering confidently, "I want to beat his record time."

The words hung in the air, and everyone nearby seemed to stop and listen. There was a moment of silence, and then Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your boldness. He leaned in slightly, his smirk widening into something almost competitive.

"Welcome to the club," Bucky said, his voice dripping with a mix of respect and challenge.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Steve was standing in a crowded immigration line at the airport, exhausted but relieved to have finally landed. He quickly pulled out his phone and typed a message to Bucky:

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃

Extra:

"Yoo... just landed. By the way, my cousin wants to join the running club. She's perfect for it. Her 5K record time is 15 minutes. Her name's Y/N L/N."

Not thinking much of it, Steve slipped his phone into his pocket and moved forward to check in with immigration, completely unaware that his text had 'Not Delivered.'

He hit send.

The message showed "Sending..." for a moment.

@mostlymarvelgirl

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@sunara-luna

@kjah97

@missvelvetsstuff

My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!Link for Arrogant Ex-HusbandAmazon.comLink for Dad I Can't Let You GoAmazon.com: Dad, I Can't Let You Go eBook : Bing, Alina C.: Kindle Store

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes

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hleep · 3 days ago

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Honestly the "toxic" PV (Yk the one who doesn't let your leg heal) Is such an interesting idea. And it would be so freaking cool if it was like a fanfiction for some reason (even if it would be a oneshot) like the idea is super freaking creative.

(also love your art, super scroumcshous 😋)

Thanks so much anonymous, it's been a long time since I've written a fic, I hope you enjoy it!

Yandere Pure Vanilla x reader

⚠Yandere,Intentional harm⚠

"I'm sorry. reader… I don't think I can heal this wound."

Where did it all go wrong? The reader began to jog down memory lane.

The reader was an adventurous cookie. Reader spent more time outside on adventures than in one place, and one of her favorite things to do was to always mark her map with a red pen to see where she had been. It was during the adventure that the reader met Pure Vanilla. Pure Vanilla is a Healer who can't attack, so he was having a hard time withstanding the cake monster's attack, and a reader who saw it saved him. They had different destinations, but they were on the same path, so they decided to travel together. Their time together was not long. Only a month or so. But Pure Vanilla seemed to like her very much. He said he was sorry to see her go, and the reader soothed him until they were about to go their separate ways. Until the last moment, he asked her not to forget him and to reply to his letters in the future. She did not forget it and replied to the letters that came to her.

…To be honest, reader was a little lax about responding to letters. It's not that she didn't respond at all, of course, but she was so lax that for every three letters she received, she only responded to one. Of course, this doesn't mean that reader will ignore Pure Vanilla's letters for no reason. As I said, they were only together for a month. For a reader who is always traveling and adventuring, a month is a very short time. In her adventures, reader had met and lost many people, and since that was the case with Pure Vanilla, he figured they'd get over each other quickly. At least, that's what the reader thought. For these reasons, the reader has been slow to respond to letters, and sometimes doesn't even bother answering them. After a few years of correspondence, the reader receives a new letter.

'Dear My Friend

Hello my friend, are you still adventuring? I've had to stop adventuring now, because I've built a kingdom. It's a vanilla kingdom, and if you don't mind, I'd love for you to come and visit me, because I'll welcome you no matter what. I miss you so much, and I want to tell you all the stories I can, and I want to see your face after all these years. I'll keep waiting for you in my kingdom.

Your pure vanilla.'

The reader was intrigued by the letter and set her next adventure to the Vanilla Kingdom. Like his letter, he welcomed her as soon as he heard she was coming.

"You're here, my friend! I'm so happy for you. Come on in. Let me introduce you to my kingdom!"

He greeted the reader with the joy of a child receiving a birthday present. The reader was pleased at first. The Vanilla Kingdom was not dangerous enough for adventure, but the people were nice and gentle, and seeing Pure Vanilla after all these years gave him plenty to talk about, so he always organized small tea parties. But Reader's joy was short-lived. Reader was a naturally adventurous cookie. Safe and bland meant boring to her. Increasingly, reader preferred exploring the nearby terrain of the Vanilla Kingdom or caving adventures to Pure Vanilla's chats and walks. Pure Vanilla expressed concern about this, but she wasn't pushy or aggressive, so the reader simply ignored him advice.

"My dear. I'm so worried about you. You always venture out alone and recklessly, and you don't seek medical attention in a timely manner. Yesterday you were attacked in the shoulder by a cake monster and spilled a lot of jam."

"That's a silly worry, Pure Vanilla. I've been adventuring and traveling alone for years. I'm a veteran."

When the reader unilaterally cut off the conversation and was about to venture off, Pure Vanilla hastily grabbed her wrist and said.

"I'm sorry. But I can't help but worry about you. Besides, your wounds haven't healed yet. Can't you stay in the castle and not venture out today?"

"No."

"I'll make your favorite food for dinner tonight. Let's take a walk in the garden and take a nap together today."

"Stop"

"You've been so adventurous lately, you haven't been able to cuddle up and read together, so why not give each other a hug? There are lots of fun things to do in the castle!"

"Pure Vanilla!"

"……."

Pure Vanilla flinched at the reader's short, bold words, increasing the strength of the grip on her wrist.

"I don't know what's wrong with you now. You already know I'm adventurous, and I've survived so far. You should worry less."

The reader left him alone and left the castle. The reader did not see Pure Vanilla with his eyes open and his fists balled into fists. Then that day, the reader suffered an unexpected injury.

During a confrontation with the Cake Monster, he was hit in the wrist, leaving him with a temporary loss of use of his wrist. Pure Vanilla grieved as if it were her own sin, and only became okay when the reader soothed him. While her wrist healed, he helped her with small tasks like cutting meat with a knife and picking up objects. At first, he felt guilty every time he saw her scars, but in time he looked at her wrist with a smile, happy that she was only in the castle with him and dependent on him.

"I want you to keep needing me."

"You do your thing. I'm fine."

Reader smiled and stroked his head with her free hand. He leaned into her, enjoying her touch like a puppy. Still, Pure Vanilla is eagerly flipping through the pages of the book. at the reader's pace.

"I want to stay like this forever."

At his words, 'for the rest of my life,' the reader spoke up as if a thought had occurred to him.

"Now, when this wrist is healed, I'm leaving."

"W-Why?!"

Pure Vanilla, who had been meekly accepting her stroking, jumped up at the reader's abruptness and asked.

"Now that I've explored the entire area around the vanilla kingdom, there's nowhere to adventure around here. Now look at this!"

The reader stood up and pulled out a huge map from his bag. It was a map of the land near the Vanilla Kingdom, and it was all checkmarked in bright red. Fear flashed across Pure Vanilla's face, and the reader, not noticing his expression, began to ramble on.

"I'm going to go somewhere else now. I'd like to go to the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Legend has it there's a dragon… Oh, I'd also like to visit the Golden Cheese Kingdom. I heard there's a greedy king…!"

The reader was more excited than ever. Pure Vanilla was glad to see her smile, but right now she felt more fear than joy.

"B-But you're leaving me already like this? There's still so much I want to show you and be with you…."

Pure Vanilla grabbed the end of her sleeve as if she were dangling. The reader said, shaking off Pure Vanilla's hand quite easily.

"We've been together for three months now! and this is the first time I've ever settled in one place this long."

"B-But you…"

"I can't stay here forever because I have to have adventures, Pure Vanilla. …Actually, I should have left already, but I'm still here because of my wrist injury. Okay? Please understand me."

The reader thought the story was now over and tried to get up from her seat. But Pure Vanilla grabbed her.

"…..just."

"What?"

"Can't you just stop adventuring and stay here with me? I'll try not to bore you….Please?"

"No."

The reader said flatly. Pure Vanilla didn't give up and kept talking.

"….I-I know your sense of adventure is very strong… But I want to stay with you, too. What can I do to make you stay with me? What do you want? I'll do everything I can!"

"No matter what you do, it won't change, because I was born for adventure! I'll keep adventuring until my LEGS give out!"

The reader pointed to her own two legs, which had carried him through decades of adventure. Pure Vanilla looked at her legs blankly.

"….LEGS."

"yes! LEGS! I will not stop until my legs are broken!"

The reader walked away with a big smile on his face. Pure Vanilla didn't catch the reader. Pure Vanilla sat still in his seat and continued to think about what she had said to him. The reader thought she did a good job of convincing him. But what she overlooked was that Pure Vanilla didn't say 'yes'.

…In time, reader's wrist healed, and as soon as it did, she packed up and set out on her adventure again. Pure Vanilla followed her to the gates and saw her off. The reader thought he would persuade her to the end, but to her surprise, Pure Vanilla let her go, and the reader was delighted and decided to reply to his letters more often.

"See you again my dear."

"yes, Pure Vanilla"

Pure Vanilla stood still and waved at her, and she waved back, and that was the end of their meeting…..

It would have been nice.

The reader had just left the Vanilla Kingdom when she encountered a giant cake monster. She hadn't expected to see one in the Vanilla Kingdom, as there were only small or weak cake monsters near the Vanilla Kingdom, so she was caught off guard. The giant cake monster caught her off guard and delivered a fatal blow. The reader was attacked by the cake monster, knocked out, and woke up in Pure Vanilla's bedroom. Pure Vanilla explained that he was out for a walk and found the reader passed out. The giant cake monster was defeated by Pure Vanilla and he said that he carried the reader here. The reader thanked him and rested in Pure Vanilla's room until the wounds on his body healed.

Time passes and the reader's body feels better, but her left ankle is the only one that hasn't healed properly. Until the rest of her body healed, her left ankle was limp and weak, making it difficult for her to walk without someone supporting her. Fast running was her longtime hobby. But now she can't even walk properly and spends most of her time sitting in a chair or lying in bed. She was so frustrated. She just wants to be healed and get out of there, but for some reason, Pure Vanilla ignores her leg wound. The reader eventually gets angry and asks Pure Vanilla pointedly about the wound…

"….I-I've tried everything I can think of, but it's impossible. I can't find a way to cure your leg."

And this is the answer she received. This is the reward she has been waiting for all this time. This is the end of her existence, existing only to adventure for adventure's sake. If it had been her carelessness, she would have accepted it all with humility. But it wasn't, and she knows it instinctively. that someone did this to her. How else could such a rampaging, giant cake monster exist in the mild climate of the Vanilla Kingdom? Even once you've concluded that the giant cake monster was a coincidence. But then he happens to find her before she dies? Can everything really be a coincidence?

….Still, she chose to conclude that it was all a coincidence, not because she believed him, but because she was afraid of how his demeanor would change if she told him the whole truth. She couldn't imagine what he would do afterward if she told him the truth in her situation where she couldn't escape, so she chose to believe that it was all a coincidence.

"Don't worry my dear, I will continue to take care of you."

The cause of everything hugs her. In his arms, she closes her eyes softly.

"…Thank you. Pure vanilla."

#cookie run kingdom #crk #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla cookie #yandere pure vanilla x reader #yandere pure vanilla #yandere cookie run kingdom #yandere cookie run

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klysanderelias · 2 days ago

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Yeah this is a thing I've been thinking a LOT about in my unemployment right now both because I'm struggling to do ANYTHING, even things I enjoy, with my time, but also when I do manage to do things, I'm running into this issue

But also it's not just that I want the instant gratification of showing it off and getting a pat on the head, it's a mix of my various mental disorders where like, I don't just want to be praised, i want to TALK about it, and talk about it at length.

And I think a lot of that is down to the OCD, that I want to get feedback on risks I've taken or make sure that I'm coming across correctly, but also it's this sort of...

There are a lot of times where you make something, or are involved in a creative process to some degree, or even just showing someone something cool, where the response is just 'huh, cool' and that just doesn't work for me. If I'm sending someone a video I liked and they respond with 'huh cool' that's not the worst thing in the world, but the more I'm invested in it, the more I want a level of engagement back.

And to a certain extent, I think that's a normal healthy understandable response because it sucks to show off something you're really proud of and get a real uninterested response, but also I think what I'm really doing is trying to unlearn this trained response of like, 'oh no one cares', 'it's better off if I just don't say anything'

Because like yeah, not everything requires my input, and I need to be careful not to talk over people or take over spaces that aren't meant for me, but also going too far in the other direction and saying 'I should never be involved in this conversation, what if everyone hates me for commenting, etc' isn't great either.

It does kind of feel sometimes like I'm pushing a bit, like I'm nudging people and going 'remember I exist, interact with me' and I try not to do the secret tests in my mind but it IS extremely noticeable when I'm in a small discord with a group of friends* and like 8 of them never respond to me in any way, when it's the same two people reacting, and even then not necessarily reacting like they're happy I'm here.

And I try not to needle people or push their buttons for a reaction, because I did my best to get away from that in middle school, but there are times where I'm just like, welp, I put myself out there and tried to be engaged and got nothing back, guess I'll kill myself.

It's just like, there's this maladjusted kid still in me who's ready to self-flagellate as soon as anything goes wrong, just completely unable to cope with rejection, and it just feels like there's a part of my brain grasping at straws like 'please, please, can you PLEASE engage with me in a way that makes me feel like I'm important'

And that's a lot of pressure to put on someone! And I tend to try and push that desire off into long rambles on here, because at least I'm working through it - but every time I make something, I'm so desperate to show it off because what if someone engages with it as much as I have, what if someone isn't just going to say 'oh cool' but actually dive in.

And when that doesn't happen, or I don't really have anyone to show it to, I feel I immediately lose motivation or interest and it becomes a chore instead of something exciting - and I've been saying 'sub drop' in my head, and I don't think that's a perfect analogy, but there's something that really kind of helps by framing it that way. Like, I put a lot of effort into something, and I'm getting a lot of joy out of it, and then I stop working on it for long enough that the endorphins wear off, and if I don't get feedback, it's hard to want to pick it up again because I'm not just not feeling great anymore, I'm feeling like I did something wrong, or like I'm being ignored, etc.

And I dunno, I don't want to make comparisons that are trivializing or just straight up wrong, but it helps to frame it that way. It helps go 'yeah, I'm feeling down about this, and it's because the high wore off and I'm not really getting 'aftercare' now'. And my only recompense I think is to push through it, but I'm also trying to be better about actively seeking that engagement out - the only problem is that we've all got our own lives and responsibilities and it's not really fair to drop an 11 page document in front of someone and expect them to get really invested in it immediately.

ADHD is do awesome because you have to tell yourself once every 17 seconds that the discomfort you feel during the creative process is, in fact, not a sign of failure, but your brain just having a temper tantrum due to a lack of instant gratification

#long post #but y'know. I'm trying to get better #trying to learn how to cope with the things wrong with my brain #it's the problem where being unemployed I have time to just pick up and blitz through a thing #and then I want to talk about it #and everyone else has to go to work #or maybe it's just not their thing and that's okay too

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13tinysocks · 9 hours ago

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My Dead Girlfriend

Angstrom Levy plays his hand. You fuck it up. [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one] [Ao3] [5]

6 * Bad Dog [5.5k]

"Since all those lost years when I thought I was the monster,

It turns out I was really the prey

Masturbating and waiting for the raid,

And hating every little thing about you all the way!"

The Ruminant - Go Hang

The acrid breeze makes his blue curtain of a mask flutter. "Give us our shit." You almost don't think it's Mark talking, his voice is so different, so stereotypically New York native.

The man standing on solid air ignores him. Good eye sliding from one Mark to another. "You're down one."

"We're down a lot more than that, numbnuts." Mohawk throws his arms out. Gesturing to the empty space where other Marks could have been, but weren't.

"To be expected. This reality is much more resilient than most." At that, the men surrounding him bristle.

"You meant for us to die." Baldie accuses, crossed arms tensing with the need for violence. "You were never going to deliver."

The man, Angstrom, though you don't quite know it yet, laughs. Holding a scarred finger out to point at you. "I have though, haven't I? More than half of you wished to see this one again."

You are slack in the arms of your savior. Conscious but head spinning with the sudden change of atmosphere. It was a good thing none of them could see your face behind the mask, see that you were awake and biding your time.

But he knows you're awake. The one holding you, the warrior raised on Viltrum from birth. He feels your pulse pick up under his hands, hears the skip of your heart, the faint smell of fear induced sweat under your armor. The others aren't close enough to sense it, you hide your feelings well, play dead good as a possum, but he knows. And he tells nobody.

"You've all had a turn, so I think my end has been delivered." He finishes.

The one with a bare face looks at Angstrom, confused. "I have no idea who that is. Where's William?"

"Yeah." Backs up the long masked one. "Like I'd even give a fuck about some... whatever." he waves his hand, uncaring to find a word for some insignificant bug.

Despite the backlash, Angstrom smiles pleasantly. "I'm aware in your realities, you didn't know or care for (Y/n) (L/n). That is perfectly acceptable. Don't think I've forgotten about the deals we've all made. But to fulfill them, I'll need you to find this dimensions Mark Grayson and bring him to me."

Eyes twitch. Lips curl.

"No," Scars finally says. He looks to you in the arms of that straight-laced Viltrumites arms and barely contains a smirk. He's going to enjoy ripping you out of them. Tearing his arms off for touching you. "I've got what I want. I'm done with this place."

"You are aware I could leave you here or somewhere worse, correct?" Angstrom doesn't sound the least bit concerned regarding the mounting tension. The cracking knuckles. The nasty grinning-snarls, thirsty for a little more blood.

"You won't." Lensless hums, "We'll kill ya before you get the chance."

"Then we'd actually be stuck here forever, dumbass." Mohawk barks. "We'll just torture him instead, duh."

Angstrom rose a brow. "There's only one of her left in all existence, remember that before you threaten me."

You are consumed by crackling green light that seems to statically stick to your armor. You are falling, then not, draped over Angstrom's arm like a coat. Still trying to play knocked out. "I have the perfect reality ready for her if any of you move." He says before you're settled. "Pit of man-eating octomen I've been starving for months, waiting right here." A ring of power encircles your body, not touching you but threatening with its presence. "Move and she's there."

"I don't care, man." Long Mask says.

Angstrom ignores him. "Get me Mark Grayson."

"You've got ten of him right here," Emperor says. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll drop it."

Angstrom laughs, nastily. So hard he shakes you in his grip. "Am I dog now, Mister Grayson?"

"You're no better than one," Emperor replies.

"Look at you all- looking at me like you want me to die. After everything I've given you." Spit flies off Angstrom's lips, landing on your visor. "I met so many of you with snot dribbling out your noses over this thing," he jostles you in his grip as you grit your teeth, "this worthless animal who in so many dimensions joins your conquest. Just some regular human who adds absolutely nothing to nearly every timeline. I don't get the appeal, but I don't have to. Do as I say or she dies."

You observe the Marks. Ready to pounce. To throw caution to the wind. Some are hesitant, actually using their brains but enough of are ready to fucking shred you think you might get eaten by whatever an octoman is.

It leaves you with no other choice. It was just a bonus it'd get him to shut up. You were dead tired of hearing this guy's voice. Hearing any guy's voice.

You let out a weak, groggy groan. Catch Angstrom's attention, which is all you need. Watch the grin spread across his busted face. "Look who's awak-"

"Bite off your tongue." Blood comes out of your nose in such a rush it splattered against the inside of your helmet. Power ripped from you all at once, used on this guy you didn't know, but definitely didn't trust.

Drip, drop atop your helmet. Then came the rivers of blood down his chin. Weaving through his beard. Tongue stuck all the way out his mouth, teeth grinding down, down, down. Sawing, squelching. He blinks, tongue half removed from his mouth, when your hold snaps. A scream that was more a gargle, splatters more blood across your visitor. You're thrown, ass over heel.

His words are thick with pain and a brand-new lisp as he says, "Bad dog!"

The sickly green light surrounds you as a portal opens up behind your back, snapping shut before the closest version of your ex could reach you. The last thing you saw was him smiling with blood bubbling over his lips.

Your landing was surprisingly soft. Skidding to a slow stop on silky tan sand. Scrambling to your knees to see where the portal was. Gone. No green, just a cloudless, hazy sky. Sun fat in the sky. Beating down harsh on the black metal of your armor. Around you there is nothing but more sand and ruins of a society long forgotten.

You don't know what happened. Don't know how to process what happened. Calling out to the nothingness, "Bring me back!" To no reply or help at all.

***

"You-!"

Biting off your own tongue was something the deeply deranged and suicidal did. Despite that criteria, Angstrom Levy had never wanted to do such a thing, but there you'd been- making him do it.

He was in acute shock. Slow. Unable to dodge the hands grabbing him, the fists beating him, not with his tongue dangling half-cut out his mouth. Threats came pouring in quick as they were delivered. Ribs broken. Ligaments torn, good eye gone red with burst blood vessels.

It'd lasted thirty seconds, maybe less, but a voice cut through the violent haze. "We can't get her back if he's dead." Said the boy who killed his father and wore his cloak. God, if Freud were still around.

The words didn't calm them, but soothed the blows like a balm. Mohawk had him by the collar, choking him with it. "Open the portal, cocksucker."

Angstrom rose a hand, the only one he had left after that Viltrumite loyalist chopped the other off. He let it open slow, teasingly so. Power roiling under his skin, revenge on the mind. They'd thought they'd had him down and out, but he was nowhere near dead. He never planned to keep them along for the full ride. The plan was always to betray them. This was much sooner, and much bloodier, than planned. So be it.

"There." He heaved. They turned, looking into the opening to a new world. A world so dry it'd evaporate the marrow out of your bones.

Phantom didn't speak. Just shot his black and blue body through. One down, nine to go.

"That world," he begins, tongue awkwardly flailing over the bottom of his mouth, blood spilling down his throat just to be hacked out, "-that world has major time dilation. She could be very far from the origin point by now. Miles. It'll take him too long to find her... I can't-" He let the portal waiver, looking unstable, "I can't hold it long."

"You can and you will." The ex-prisoner grabbed him by the balls. Through Angstrom's pants but still. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

If guilt tripping wouldn't work, he had no other choice. "Wait... I can.. I think I've found her." More portals zap open all around him. Nine in total. "Do you see?" They turn, just to watch the portals shoot closer, swallowing them all whole before snapping shut. Leaving them to fall in the sand and Angstrom alone to his devices.

***

You'd tried it all. Screaming. Looking for an exit. Digging. Trying to call someone, anyone on your phone that had not a bar. All while the sun beat at your back. You didn't give up, not really, just resigned to moving somewhere else. Powers, you knew, were stupid. Angstrom could find you again even if you'd left the dropoff.

You walked. Migraine gnawing at your temples. Power stores drained out. Boots dragged in the sand, prints sifting away as soon as they were made. Moved from wreck to wreck for the tiniest slivers of shade. Baked inside your helmet until you popped it off, wiping at the drying blood with your gloves. When there was a breeze, it felt like a hairdryer, making your eyes water.

Two hours, you'd walked to find nothing.

The sun moved slow, the sky fading to a dull purple, but you knew the second it dipped below the dunes, you'd be dead without a fire. Deserts don't stay hot without sun. Planks were easy come by, old wood waiting to disintegrate into the sand. You rooted through the tool belt attached to the body armor. Tear gas, a high-powered taser, a flare, a knife, ammo for a gun you didn't have, and a to-go first aid kit.

You tried the taser on the wood. It made the old thing crumble in your hands. You tried again to the same result. Again and again as the sun crossed the sky and the heat began to ebb.

***

He flew through the desert, combing it in a gird. Square mile by square mile, searching. Growing more desperate by the second. Head filling with what if's.

It's faint, a mere vibration in his left ear. He banks hard. Following. Forcing his hearing to it's limit- catching grains shifting below his flight path. Then it comes again. Audible this time. Bzzt. Lil more to the left. Bzzzzt! Not long now. He starts to slow right as the sound pinged from below. BZZZT!

"Fuck you, motherfucker." Came out from a line of beams fallen together to make a concrete tent.

He landed gently, trying not to make a dust cloud and scare you away. Watching your back as you tried to light a plank ablaze with a taser. It crumbled in your hands. You scoff, kicking debris into a cloud that makes you violently cough.

You could turn and see him. Husky purple dusk not yet camouflaging his blue-black body suit. But you don't. Instead, you keep trying to tase the remaining sawdust into flames. It doesn't work.

He floats above the sand, slowly rolling into your view.

***

Chaos. Total, absolute, chaos.

Nine of them in the middle of some desert planet, tenth fucked off God knows where. No Angstrom to take them out. No (Y/n) to soften the blow. The rage settled in like a beat behind their eyes, a thrum under their fingerpads. They wanted to choke each other for existing.

Their personal genie had betrayed them, left them for dead.

He wasn't the first to blast off into the desert. Searching for a way out, for you. He was, however, first to shoot into the sky for a birdseye view. The atmosphere thinned, going from an ugly yellow to the familiar dark of space. Above the sphere, he hovered, seeing only sand. Around the planet he went, hoping, then finding those hopes were something juvenile.

The search extended into space. For other planets. He noticed then, flying through the cold dark there were no stars or gas giants or distant worlds. Only the planet they landed on and the too-close sun.

As if Angstrom Levy had found the one reality in all of existence with one dead world. One big, sandy, uninhabitable world. The perfect place for them all to die. The search could be expanded later, with more of them looking, but he doubted even their Viltrumite bodies could reach any planets if he couldn't see them.

He was angry, but couldn't fault the guy. He was going to rip off Angstrom's balls after all. He'd find a way out of this, the same way he'd found a way out of that hell of a Viltrumite prison. Scarred beyond recognition. Coming home to find the love of his life dead and long buried.

Except that now you were down on that sandball, somewhere. Hopefully alive. So why was he angsting up in space?

***

The taser shot out, connecting thick prongs to his suit. Electricity traveled fast through the carbon fiber, penetrating to his skin. He didn't seize and drop. He took it like he was nothing but thin air, like you were imagining him in a wave of heat induced hysteria.

The prongs retracted and he took that as cue to step down into your concrete hut. Coming closer, slow, hands up over his chest like he wasn't going to hurt you- as if you'd believe that.

You hear it. Something moving so fast the air splits around you.

You don't know what you're going to do. Shout? Duck? Gasp? You don't get to decide because he's on you. Holding you hard against himself, feet inches off the ground, hand pressed firm over your mouth. Head tracking the sonic spec in the sky as it passed over. When the coast is clear, he sets you down and backs off. Not leaving your nothing of a camp, but any space willing given by these freaks was noticeable.

"Leave." Power doesn't even bother to tickle your throat. You had jackshit left. Wouldn’t have jackshit for days if your luck stayed bad. You'd only blown yourself out like this one time- that day at the beginning of the end of your life. You'd never used your power on someone else powered before. Barley used it period. Only on little, meaningless, petty things. Until you used it all at once to save his life. Then on him. Blowing out you out like a tire. Failing.

Now you were here. Staring at a fully masked version of him, unable to control him or your life again.

Yet you try, "Go." The taser finds its home in your belt, replaced by the tear gas canister held over your head. "Or I'll set this fucking bomb off if you get any closer." It's a lie so obvious you couldn’t put your chest behind it. "I'll kill us both, I swear to God."

He doesn’t move. Your helmet sits on the ground at your feet. You wonder how fast you could set the tear gas off and put the thing back on. If the GDA-enhanced tear gas would make you go blind.

As you fingered the pin, he pulled something from his belt. A short, metal pin. He approaches the pile of wood you’d made. You back up, knowing he'd catch you if you ran. Knowing you didn't have energy for any more running. He cracks the metal against a shred of concrete. Sparks rained down on the dry material and then there was fire. Small but as he stepped back, blaze growing.

Technically, you knew what he was doing. Starting a fire so you wouldn’t freeze to death, the breeze as the sun went down already cool. But mentally? You had no idea what he wanted. You knew that he was one of the ones that asked for you, that knew some version of you and decided thousands dead was worth it. Even though he was the first to your side on multiple occasions, you couldn’t know what he wanted. If he wanted something in exchange.

The sky had gone a deep gray. Cold settling in between the sand dunes like an old bone's ache. You could leave, but the growing fire was your one and only shot of living. Just a guess, but the taser thing wasn’t going to work.

"What do you want?" You asked, shuffling closer. Still gripping the tear gas hard, reared over your shoulder like a weapon. "Tell me or I'll set it off."

"I'm not going to hurt you." Through that demon of a modulator, you catch a softness, Mark whispering a secret he hadn’t told anyone else. More genuine than you’d heard from any of these alternates.

"How do I know you're not lying?" But there is no reply, and you don’t think he is. He's done talking and you're done fighting.

He sits first. On the edge of an uneven slab, leaving plenty of room for you. You watch him carefully. Sure he's going to lunge, a lurking predator luring you into a false sense of safety. So you lean against the wall instead, watching him and the fire.

He does lunge eventually, ten minutes later. Dashing forth to stomp out the fire as another body streaks across the sky. Tense as you both watched it go by. Waiting until there’s nothing but the night. Then he was back on his knees, cracking the stick onto new planks.

"What is that?" You're still standing. Arm lifting the canister overhead once again.

He looks up from the fire at you. Black going brown in the light. Tentatively, tortuously, and against every nerve in your body, you sit. Slip the tear gas canister back into your belt. Hoping he'd talk if you seemed a little less hostile.

"Tell me where I am. Who the fuck was that?"

You’re not shocked when he says nothing, only annoyed by your acceptance of it. He can’t bring himself to ruin this moment with you, finally alone. Hearing your voice, even angry, was like an angel’s song for the damned. Your face like something out a dream. Any nervous tics, little movements, shifts in your weight, was studied and tucked away to categorize and compare to what he knew.

You at seventeen, nervous and shy and sweet. Could you have become this bitter thing had you lived? Surely not. He'd have made sure you were taken care of. Made you into a wife with nothing to fret over. He hates him. The Mark of your dimension. Wants to turn him inside out for letting whatever happened to you- happen.

You watched him right back with no knowledge of what his gaze meant. None of the same interest, but watching for the same things, instincts of being prey. Wondering when the slowly stalking fox was going to pounce, if the gaze was a challenge. In the thickening night, he was starting to blend in. You could still see his outline and the dark lenses reflecting back your stare. You try to look past them but can't, can't read anything from the blank, dark slate. You look away, wanting a momentary reprieve, backing down from the challenge. Movement. Your gaze right back, tense all over. Hand on the taser holster.

The mask is off. Chin up, he is bare. There is stubble dark on his jaw, skin paler than you recalled Mark ever being, his hair a shaggy mess that hung past his ears, eye bags deep, nearly purple. He was Mark, no surprise there, the surprise was the slate blue of his eyes. Just like his father's.

You pull the taser out, but not wanting to escalate further, voice almost a whisper after you’d grown used to the quiet. "What do you want?" He looks up at you under dark brows and long lashes. It reminds you so much of your Mark you want to strike him, but think better of it. "Answer me."

It comes out breathy, hardly audible. "I just-" Two syllables and his voice breaks. Cracks right down the middle. He shuts his mouth, hand going to his throat, thumb massaging. He swallows, tries again but all that comes out is a hoarse sigh. His brows knit in frustration. He’d talked more than he was used to in the past few days, and with the dry air and nerves, what was left of his vocal cords wasn’t going to cooperate.

You don’t know what’s wrong with him, but now you understand why he wore that modulator.

The mask goes back on. He's given up trying to talk, trying to show his belly like he wasn't a threat. You suspect violence, harassment, almost get up anticipating it, but it doesn't come. You're about to settle down when the ground shudders just outside your camp. You don't get the chance to check what it was because it steps inside between the concrete pillars.

"We've been working together to find a way out of this shithole and here you two've been, love shackin' it up." His mask flutters in front of his face as he talks. Sand stuck to his tracksuit where blood had wet it. "Jesus, yer lucky I found you. Those other dudes have been losing they's fuckin' minds."

Phantom rises, dashing the small fire away. He'd know his alone time with you would be short. They'd find you both eventually, but he was glad to have had it. Even if you looked at him with such disdain. For so many years, that's all he wanted. His voice failing him was punishment for letting you die, for letting this version of you get stuck in an unending desert. He'd make it up to you. Find a voice to say what needed to be said.

He steps towards the other. Long mask, long face, you don't quite know what to mentally call him yet- steps back. Making room for Phantom to exit the ruin.

"I'm not leaving." You tell the newcomer, though you grab the helmet. To throw at him? To cover your head from the cold now that the fire couldn't ward it off?

"You dunno if I've found a way out or not and yer just gonna act like that?" His laugh is humorless, "Glad we weren’t a thing in my world."

Behind him, Phantom jerks his head, a 'come' gesture. Wind, not a breeze, cuts through the dunes and sends winter cold through the cracks in your armor. Settles under the fabric, making you shiver.

"Do you have a way out?" You demand.

"Would'a left your ass behind if I did." He says, stepping further back. Annoyed but understanding you wouldn’t come within a certain distance; despite how fast he could liberate your head from your shoulders. "Come on," he lifts inches off the ground, "the longer you're gone the edgier those shitheads get. I can't take it anymore."

You really, really, really did not want to see any of them. You look back to your concrete shack. But. Survival is easier in groups, right? You know what else is easier in groups? Mass murder. The second you got your powers back, you were taking them out like you'd set out to do. Sure, you'd probably only kill one or two more of them but it'd be enough to kill Mark Grayson four times before you went to hell. Only then did eternity of torture sound bearable.

You also couldn't make a fire, it was freezing, you had no food and you'd be starving soon, and you had nothing to drink but codeine, which was a bad idea.

Phantom waited for you on the ground. Tracksuit, ah there's that convenient nickname, hovered low in the sky waiting. "Let's go already." You can't fly and something tells you Tracksuit isn't willing to walk however many miles it is back to camp.

Phantom taps his masked cheek. At first you're disgusted, thinking he wants you to lay one on him but realize, he's telling you to put the helmet on. You'd seen those old stories of superhuman and regular-Joe-human romances going bad because their lover flew too fast and all the human's skin was flayed off. You didn't want to go to the others, but you really didn't want to go without skin.

You put the helmet on and he moves towards you. Slower than the first time he scooped you up and took you to the sky. He definitely felt bad about dropping you. Elbows move under knees, strong hand supporting your back. Lifting off gently this time. Accelerating slowly enough for Tracksuit to scoff and shout, "Dude, move it!"

You'd never been flying like this. Before, it was too quick to process, too much adrenaline. Now you were burnt out and empty enough to actually process the passing dunes. To feel your body relying on his for support. You would have liked it, really, if it wasn't one of the crazy Marks- which was pretty much all of them. Horrified at any time he'd drop you or dangle you by an ankle until you cried, "Uncle." He hadn't seemed the type, but he also ripped off Psychopomp's arms the second time you met him. He wasn't as forward as the others, which made him less predictable.

The whole flight you were scared shitless, because the second it was over, things were only going to get worse. The bright side was, things were always awful before they got better. Thinking about killing Mark calmed you down a fraction.

Even in the distance, you could see the camp. No mountains to hide its orange glow. The only thing of note for miles upon miles.

Tracksuit sighed with relief, "Thank God." He shot forward, gone, leaving you and Phantom to meander along. You'd noticed he'd significantly slowed. Sucking up all the remaining alone time with you he could get. Hovering hundreds of feet over a massive bonfire. Figures below, waiting with baited breath.

Phantom contemplates the success rate of leaving. Running with you. Surviving alone together. His black boots touch down on the sand. He sets you down, keeping a hand at your back as you wobble to your feet. Unaccustomed to flying. Human heart fluttering in your chest.

You get no peace or relief.

Just Mohawk flying forward and almost knocking you over "Dickhead," he hissed before his fist sent Phantom careening into the desert night. Phantom catches himself, but stays further back, hidden in the dark. It was chilly but this planet was nothing compared to the vacuum of space. To what his life had been before seeing you again. The fire, here and there, were for you. Warmth and signal. He would keep watch from the shadows.

The perpetrator turns to you, sand stuck in his mohawk. "You good?"

You don't meet his eye. Opting to stumble closer to the bonfire, trying to avoid eye contact with the Marks standing around.

"I thought you'd need it," Omni-Wannabe says.

"Where are we?" You stare into it. Hoping they don't notice the answers aren't forced out of them. That they don't piece together the only reason you're not going batshit is because you're powerless.

"A desert," Lensless kicks at the sand, "Duh."

"What desert?" It's hard to keep the venom out of your voice.

Emperor stretches his legs over a rock. Leaning back in his low earthy chair, looking like he meant to be stranded. "You tell me. You're the one who got us trapped here."

You don't bite the bait. You can't fight back, so opening your big mouth is the last thing you should do. But he's looking at you like he wants to chop you to pieces. You go for fawning but not too out of character. "Wasn't expecting anyone to end up here with me."

Under the yellow fabric, his brow twitches. "After all the chasing and defending, you didn't expect backup?"

"I didn't ask for backup." You say, "I have no idea what's going on. One second I'm working, the next this guy," your arm gestures to Mohawk who grins, "is beating the shit out of my boss."

Emperor's muscles tighten. You'd said the wrong thing. Towed the line too willy-nilly. He says, "You really must be dumber in this world if you haven't figured it out yet. Don't speak to me until you do." And goes back to watching the fire.

Crisis averted.

Somebody thinks it's a good idea to rest their fat, meaty hand on your shoulder and say, "Are you okay?"

When you turn it's the bald one. Wearing an expression you think is concern.

You can't help moving away and snapping, "Get off."

"D'aww, somebody mad their geriatric handler didn't pick them up?" Scars is right behind you. Not close enough to touch, but too close for comfort. He could push you into the fire and you'd be roast dinner. "Not expecting to deal with the consequences of your actions, were you?"

This time, for real, you hold your tongue. Stuck straight to the roof of your mouth. You are not fucking with this guy.

He touches you the same place Baldie did. You're scared to shove him off. Baldie was a mistake, one that could've gotten you killed. Scars would be a mistake that would get you killed.

"Hey, look, she's afraid of me!" He announced like it was an honor. "That's a smart girl, but where's that fighting spirit? Come on, I wanna see you try n' hurt me again."

You don't reply. Don't move. Don't breathe.

"Your heart just skipped a beat, there, Dregs. Don't tell me you're gonna avoid me by killing yourself again." His fingers tighten on your shoulder. Nearly bruising. "I won't let it happen again." He's masking his anger being here with nine of himself by playing with you. Relieving stress.

"You're wasting your energy antagonizing her." The grip lightens immediately, someone else to play with. Scars' violent attention turned toward the bare baby-faced version of himself.

"You telling me what to do?" Tension cracked off his split lip.

"No." The other says evenly, "But we're stuck in an alien desert. Now's not the time to pull some master-slave dynamic bullshit on some girl you don't even know. Be smart."

Scars slipped around you, prowling toward the sat man. "And how do you suggest I 'be smart'."

He started counting off on his fingers, "Get more firewood if you don't want her to freeze to death. Search ruins for something that could get us out. Look for food. Rest, conserve energy, because we don't know how long we'll be stuck here. My guess is until we get ourselves out because there's no way Angstrom is coming back for us."

"He will," Lensless says with unwarranted confidence. "He has to know we'll find him and kill 'im. It's dumber to let us be mad n' stuff."

Maskless shakes his head. "He chose this planet because he expects us to die. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not fighting you guys over some human I don't know. If you're smart, you'll do the same." He slides off the rock and lies himself sideways in the sand. Head propped on his elbow like a pillow. "At least shut up or go to sleep so you can kill echother quicker tomorrow."

Scars took two steps toward him before an arm jutted out, stopping him. Omni-Mark stood between the two like a wall. "He's right. We should sleep while it's cool. Search more tomorrow."

"Who said you're in charge?" Emperor snipped despite being deeply unhelpful.

"I'm not trying to be," he said, "it's just a suggestion."

One you take. Moving away to the other side of the blaze while their bickering went on and on. You sat on a rusted pipe. Maskless a few feet to your right, brow furrowed but eyes closed. The Viltrumite to your left, arms folded behind his back. Posture painfully straight. His eyes flick over to you, head not moving.

You don't see it, but he's content with the situation at hand- for now. He could take the others. Savvy enough to survive in the harshest conditions where the others surely weren't. He'd conquered harsher planets than this without help. Atop of all that, you were choosing to be by his side. That is enough for him, for the moment.

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asktimeandtimeagain · 1 day ago

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Why if it isn’t the time looper himself! What’s siffrin been up to? Do they still carve wood?

(It's Siffrin! Fashionably late as ever, looking as sleepy as the last time you saw them.)

BONNIE: You're looking for Addy?

SIFFRIN: It's been hard keeping track of her this morning. She's been running around all over the place. It's like I blink and she's gone.

BONNIE: Yeah, she does that. Poof. She's gone.

SIFFRIN: Poof.

SIFFRIN: Oh, and-

(They pulled out a little charm from a pocket inside their cloak.)

SIFFRIN: She had asked me to carve her a bird pendant and I finished it earlier this morning. I thought I'd give it to her before Combat today but... well, finding an opportunity for that seemed harder than I thought. But-

(Siffrin holds up the pendant.)

SIFFRIN: See? Raven. Piou piou! ... do ravens go piou piou?

BONNIE: Frin never told me much. It was the kinda thing everyone liked to leave me out of for the most part. Still makes me mad. They STILL haven't really explained everything, but I at least know they made a wish, and-

SIFFRIN: ...What was that, BonBon?

BONNIE: Oh! Um! Sorry. Was just, er- I'm just trying to keep track of all the deliveries I gotta do before Combat starts. Ravens probably go piou, I dunno.

SIFFRIN: Oh, right. I shouldn't keep you then. I better go find Adelaide.

(Siffrin sighs and places the pendant back in their pocket.)

SIFFRIN: I keep telling her to stick by my side but it feels like she'll do everything in her power to do the opposite.

SIFFRIN: Parenting is stressful. Don't do it, Bonnie.

BONNIE: You don't have to tell me twice.

SIFFRIN: Do you know where she went? Or...

BONNIE: She went to see Dile.

SIFFRIN: Figures. Alright, I'll see you later, BonBon. Make sure to check in with Isa after your deliveries. Last I checked he's at the fountain with Petronille and Rue.

BONNIE: Ugh. Let me guess. More bonding ceremony planning?

SIFFRIN: ...you don't seem enthusiastic about that.

BONNIE: It's whatever. See ya, Frin.

SIFFRIN: ...

(You both walk away in opposite directions.)

#mod scissors #in stars and time #isat #in stars and time au #isat au #time and time again #tata au #siffrin #bonnie #prologue #long post

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asparagus-antics · 2 days ago

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There is like NOTHING for conquest 😭 nsfw alphabet for my favorite old man? Or just any crumbs in general I'll take it

NSFW Alphabet - Conquest

Here are the headcannons for my old man! I love him so much. Sorry if these are choppy or seem rushed, I really need to get back into my groove, man😭 I had a hard time writing these. I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible, since I wasn't sure if you wanted a specific gender! Also, to give myself a little more of a direction to go in, this is Conquest x human reader. Enjoy!

Not proofread, sorry for any grammatical errors and or spelling mistakes!

18+, minors do not interact, please! - you are responsible for your own content consumption, the media below the cut will contain nsfw themes and explicit description of sex.

Aftercare - what they're like after

Conquest might not be too adapted to how soft humans are in comparison to viltrumites, so he might need some time adjusting—a gentle nudge in the right direction from time to time. Overall, he's generally like a huge cat. If this man could purr, he would; in fact, he can manage a hum so low it actually does really sound like one! He's a cuddler. Big, rough hands grab you as soon as he's down on the bed next to you, pulling you close and inhaling your scent like like the faint smell of your sweat is the most heavenly thing to him. He's scared he might hurt your body, so little compared to him even if you are tall for the average human, but the urge to pull you close and smother you in his big arms is something akin to cuteness agression. If you ask, he'll fetch you water or a snack, maybe a heating pad or an exrta blanket. Over time, though, he'll get used to what you usually desire after a few rounds, and after cleaning you up, he'll get them without a specific request needed.

Body part - whats their favourite body part? Theirs and yours

It might sound cliche, but if you were to ask him what his favourite part of you was, he would jump at the opportunity to say everything. The soft skin he can nuzzle his face into, the limbs that try to tangle themselves around him in a hug or the hands that scratch at his skin when he's so focused on your pleasure that he gets lost in it all. Your favourite part of him would probably be your hands, though. How gently they can handle him even when there really is no need. How soft they feel all over him and how you love to hold his big, calloused palm in yours. It grounds him, calms him down when needed, and he'd die a happy man if your hands were on him while he went. His favourite part of his body? His arms. How such muscular, big sources of power that have blown through civilisations could now cradle you so gently. How easily he could pick you up and carry you where you needed to go or throwing you up into the air like a little child to hear you laugh.

Cum - anything to so with cum, really

His loads? Huge. Downright terrifying because where has this poor man been storing all of this? He prefers to come inside, liking the sense of intimacy it brings him, the idea that some piece of him will be with you at all times for a few days at least. He definitely had a breeding kink that just goes wild at the sight of you on his dick. If it's not inside you, he'll cum all over your stomach, your face if you let him. He loves seeing you streaked in something so innately his, marked by the evidence of what you do to him. If it comes time to clean up the mess, he'll lick it all up himself without a single complaint to be heard. You don't prompt him to, you're just laying there, still coming down and catching your breath when you feel that hot tongue strace over the lines painted on your stomach, up to your chest and neck.

Dirty secret - whats a dirty secret of theirs?

Secrets? Not this mans thing. He'll blurt out anything that comes to mind no matter how vulgar it is. Honestly, it gets you blushing and embarrassed most of the time because it just comes out of nowhere! He doesn't even try to make it sensual. It's just him still getting used to the fact that humans aren't as direct. It's just a remark here and there, in the middle of you and him minding your own business, cuddling, or anything that might be happening.

Experience - how experienced are they? Do they know what their doing?

Conquest has gathered lots of experience over his.. what? Five thousand years of life? He's not ever really had a partner, or maybe has, but had never really been in love—hence his lonliness. Despite that, his experiences are plenty. Tons of hookups over the years from planets he's conquered (I mean, who could resist him? Even if he's murdering their people with a smile on his face? I couldn't.). Maybe one or two other viltrumites in his earlier years, but none in the later ones, since not many are even willing or daring to get close. He knows exactly what you need, even if he unintentionally handles you a bit rougher sometimes. He's attentive and more than eager to please you. There's never a one to one ratio on orgasms, which 100% of the time works out in your favour, even if unintentional. He just loves to have his hands on you, and he gets plenty carried away sometimes.

Favourite position - self explanitory

It depends on the sex. In his desperate, rough days, he enjoys doggy a lot. It gives him plenty of curves to grab, limbs to restrain and skin to lick and bite. It allows him to reach deep, to be able to push and pull you away, and to him, it lets him move your body to a way that feels good for the both of you. On his gentle days, when he really wants to savour the moment, he prefers missionary, maybe something with you on top. In these positions, he can really admire you, watch you move and react to all the sensations he's making you feel, and be able to press his skin to yours. He enjoys the contact and intimacy of it, revels in the way you cling to him, and move against him. Your pleasure is his, and it only heightens his excitement to know and feel that you're having a great time. He lives for it. If he could see it all day every day for the rest of his life, he would.

Goofy - are they more goofy or serious in the moment? Do they make jokes?

Jokes, maybe, but he's mostly more serious during. He wants to be focused on you and your pleasure, as well as his. His intensity usually doesn't leave a lot of room for cracking jokes. On the other hand, he is a huge tease. Some days (the rougher ones), he's relentless, taunting and teasing non-stop, driving you mad with touches without getting you anywhere. He'll sneer when you whine and beg, making remarks about the fact that you have to be patient for him, taunting you for being so desperate, all the while not letting up on any of the shit he's pulling.

Hair - how are they groomed? Do the carpets match the drapes?

It's all grey. Everywhere. Obviously. He's got a nice amount of chest hair that matches the remaining ones on his head and his moustache. His forearms have a nice coating, too, that looks absolutely amazing when he rolls his sleeves up. The muscles with a dusting of grey body hair absolutely gives him some sort of greek god look that he really pulls off. The hair on his chest conects a trail down his softer stomach to his pubes, which are very much there, but he keeps them trimmed nicely. He's definitely not shaven, but he's neat and tidy. It honestly looks nice, framing him just right.

Intimacy - how intimate are they in the moment?

There's always a sense of intimacy with him, rough or gentle. Either in way he looks at you, caressing over the planes of your skin softly or the ragged breaths in your ear as he lays himself over your back, his face over your shoulder as he grunts out praises to your fucked out body, his firm hands keeping you in place and his pace showing absolutely zero signs of faltering or stopping any time soon, no matter the rounds you've already gone. His hands are so big, either very capable of grabbing at each and every part of your flesh, groaning about how good you're doing and how nice you feel around him, or how they cradle your body as he moves so slowly, cherishing you like his most prised posession, looking you deep in the eye as he commits the sight of you right to his memories, to keep this piece of you with him always.

Jack off - anything to do with masturbation

That piece of you leads him right to here, preserved for when needed, for the occasions where one of you is away. He doesn't really enjoy masturbation as much, since he rarely sees need to if he can't spill anything into you or feel your warm, soft touch or the scratches along his arms, sides and back whike he's so engrossed in the pleasure of it all. It just doesn't feel as good; his hands could never recreate the feeling of yiu around him or your hands caressing him, your mouth moving over and around him till he's all happy and sated. If he really is that messed up over the fact he can't have you, and he really can't stop thinking about it, he'll frustratedly take himself in hand and just force everything out of him over the span of fifteen minutes to an hour, depending on how desprate he is.

Kink - a kink of theirs. What are they into?

He has a huge breeding kink. Huge. Most viltrumites don't need or desire sex outside of breeding urges. They don't see the need to look for a partner who will only slow them down or make them soft outside of missions. If they do have one, though, it's on. Conwuest would do anything to keep you stuffed full of him all the time. Whether it is indeed for breeding perpouses or judt the thought of you being so full of him, he wants you to drip it when he's done with you, so to speak. Because he will indeed not let you drip it. If it's not quicky, he loves to stay buried inside you even after he's softened, letting you rest in a position that will allow it, keeping everything he's poured into you firmly there with no escape. It fills him with a sense of pride and duty, even if it is just for himself.

Location - what's their favourite place to get into it?

He mostly just prefers a bed, where he can take his sweet, sweet time with you and enjoy you thoroughly. Though, if we're being real, he would take you anywhere. In the kitchen, outside, on the floor, in the air.. the list goes way on. If it is indeed in a bed, he loves it because he can pound you silly into the soft surface, watching you bounce with the movements his heavy build is forcing on the mattress.

Motivation - what turns them on? Gets them going?

Everything. The way you walk? His dick is hard. Give him one wrong look? He'll absolutely pound the thoughts out of you. Caress his face just right? He wants to take care of you and make you cum till you go deaf and blind. He's just an absolute sucker for you, as serious about you as he ever has been and ever will be about another being. He wants you always, all the time, everywhere at once. He knows how to reign himself in of course, but when it comes time for that sweet release, he will ravenge you for just about anything that you do.

No - something they won't do / turn off.

Outside of the morally messed up shit, even if his morals are kind of messed up, absolutely nothing. Your wish is his command; this man is a freak and is proud to let you know it. You want to try something new? On it, boss. He's ready. From vanilla things to stuff that would make the devil break out a sweat, perhaps a little blush. He's all yours, opwn to experimenting snd switching things up. Positions? This man can bend you into whatever shape you want. You taking charge? Go right ahead. Even if proportions are off or you are nervous about things, he'll do his absolute best and try his hardest to make everything judt as enjoyable for you as he can. I mean, he'll enjoy it regardless.

Oral - preference in giving / receiving, skill, etc.

He doesn't mind receiving head, though with his size, it's hard for anyone to fully take him. Even half would be more than enough for the average person, so he doesn't really expect it or request it a lot. Giving, on the other hand? This man will slobber over you aaaalll day. Sucking, licking. Just nuzzling into you and nudging with his nose, he's got it. He's messy with it, but it's intense and pleasureful. He'll have you coming with his mouth plenty of times before you even get to the big event if you let him. He'll keep going till you try to tug him up or whine for him that it's too much. He loves overstimulating all your nerves till you beg him to go easier, to at least let you catch your breath. Sometimes, though, as much as he loves hearing you beg, it falls on deaf ears anyway. He blames it on his age. Yeah, right.

Pace - are they fast, slow, stamina, etc.

He varies, but boy when he switches it up from one to the other? Slow, deep, more grinding than anything turns to your hips being lifted off of whatever surface you were on an held up by him as he plummets your depths like a man on a mission. He can be relentless, so quick and hard you'll definitely not be walking straight if at all tomorrow, but at the same time, he can be so slow, sometimes barely moving yet still so intense it gets you where you want to go, less intense than usual, it's a slow and rolling sensation that lasts a while, something that you feel you'll never come down from, so opposite from the harsh, quick snap and bursts that usually take place, though even that varied in it's levels of intensity.

Quickie - their opinion on them, how often, etc

He definitely prefers to be able to take his time over anything else, so quickies aren't really his deal. When you do have them, though, they're usually in a fit of desperation. Maybe squeeze one in one last time before saying goodbye for something like a mission or trip that the other can't join on, maybe after an argument of any kind.

Risk - are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?

Conquest gives absolutely no fucks when it comes to risking a lot of things, even his life, as we've seen. It exitedls him, gives him a rush. Getting beat up with thr risk of very bad bodily injury? Bring it on. Toying with people to bring out the absolute worst in them and taunt them till they snap? Definitely his dead. Something he doesn't like to risk, though? Is you. Seeing you in any type of trouble or danger would send him mad, so he doesn't like to risk anything dangerous, even if you are the type of person who gets a thrill from it just like him. A place where you risk being seen is okay with him, of course, since there is something so exiting about that, but anything that crosses his line of danger is off limits. Somewhere public, like a bathroom stall of storage closet? Have at it! He's more than happy to oblige you if that is something you're into or would be willing to try. Despite that, he couldn't bare seeing anything bad happen to you, especially if it could be partially caused by him. So, he'll play it safe with you, make sure everything you do together is something that could easily be fixed by him if something were to happen.

Stamina - how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

All viltrumites have great stamina, since that was insured when only the most virile of the species were allowed to reproduce. Conquests stamina is something that never seems to run out, bred and trained for long and hard battle, sex is at the least of his worries when it comes to a workout. He can take you round after round after round until you're so spent you're barely awake, and he'll barely have broken a sweat, if at all. He'll let you rest when you're clearly too tired or you ask, of course, but trust me when I say that when you wake up, he's ready to go right back at it again.

Toys - Do they own toys? Do they use them?

I don't think he'd really have any at home, but if you suggest it, maybe give him some, he's eager to try it out. On you, on himself, whatevers possible. He wants to appreciate your gift to the fullest and is more than happy to do so. Things like vibes, he'll tease you for hours on end and try and figure out every single way to make you come using them. He enjoys seeing them used on you more, but if you want to he'll let you try whatever you want on him, just content to have you paying him such close attention, to have your hands on him making him feel so good in that way just you do.

Unfair - how much do they like to tease?

As mentioned before, Conquest will tease and edge you till you're begging and in tears if you let him. He loves seeing you desperate, hearing all the noises you make for him. The way you squirm and whine for him to just let you come already is just music to his ears and plenty of strokes to his ego. Knowing that this is the way he can make you feel, no one else, just exites him more than anything. He's infuriating. The endless taunting is so frustrating, yet somehow it still manages to brighten that fire inside of you. You desire it, his hands endlessly roaming with no intention of taking you any further for a good while.

Volume - how loud are they? What sounds do they make?

He's fairly quiet in terms of noise, but he loves to talk. Taunting, teasing, praising, remarking about how good you feel, hell, he'll tell a story or to to your absolutely fucked out body after multiple rounds, all while he's still moving into you relentlessly. He does make the occasional noises, rough and fairly hushed; hell groan out his words or give a grunt here and there. He just can't possibly keep completely muted with the way you feel around him, like he's wrapped up in heaven itself. Sometimes, he muffles the noise by shoving his face to whatever skin he can reach from that angle or kissing you till you're even more out of breath, if that was possible.

Wild card - a random headcannon

He has a thing for his size. Naturally, most(all) of his partners are smaller than him, even if they're tall for whatever species they are from. If he's relieving oral from you, he likes to just see the size of him against your face. The difference gets him going, how easily he can manhandle you even if you're strong. It makes him feel strong, powerful—which he loves. It's never at the expense of you feeling useless, but the way you're so small next to him is just a huge turn-on.

X-ray - whats going on underneath them clothes?

He's big for his size, and as a man of around 7 feet or taller, that's absolutely huge. He's around the girth of an average human fist, just a bit skinnier when flacid. The length of it is definitely enough to struggle with, but you make it work together. It's got a couple of veins along the side and underside, a colour just a bit darker than his usual skintone, and it turns a more reddish colour when hard, the more desprate, the more colour. It's pretty, which is weird to say of an old, weathered conqourers uncut dick, but it's true. The dusting of nest grey hair compliments him well—he's definitely an eyeful, and his naked body in all its glory is something to blink at. The source of attraction, though? It's definitely the junk he's packing. You just physically cannot stop yourself from sneaking a peek whenever you can.

Yearning - how high is their sex drive?

All day, every day. If he has the chance, he'll keep you to himself multiple hours a day, if not the whole day. For him, of course, it's the blink of an eye. In his 5000 years, you are the brightest thing that's happened, and he just wants to keep quaking those memories and moments with you like there's no tomorrow—including plenty of orgasms and then some.

Zzz - how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?

He doesn't sleep that quickly afterwards. Sex just seems to wake him up more. Eventually, when you're asleep, he'll likely end up just watching you, so peaceful in his bed after the romp you've had. He's smitten, and he'll just sit or lay there for hours, watching. He'll never get tired of it, but it does help him calm back down, have him settle in with you, and scoot your body to his so he can tangle you up in his strong arms. He listens to the sound of your breathing until, inevitably, he too falls asleep.

Thank you for the request, anon!! It took me a while to get to it, sorry for that. I'm still getting back into writing but if anyone has more requests, please let me know! See my pinned post for the guidelines to my writing.

Please support your writers! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated.

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