#but damn at first glance it seems like a really really bad one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuluoyi · 9 days ago

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𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑

- xavier x reader

a new friendly colleague has joined your team, but your boyfriend is convinced he is up to no good... and that's why xavier is determined to show it that you are his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, fluff explicit smut: slightly rough sex, fingering, doggy style, based on xavier's card misty silhouette

note: skxmskcjsf bye don't look at me. this fanart and xavier's card messed me up :') this banner is so unhealthy for me i swear </3

Xavier knew he wasn’t the most patient person.

But even patience, he thought, has limits. And he had been patient and reasonable for a week, to be precise.

It all started ever since that damned new recruit entered his team. He didn't know why, but he kept coming to you for everything—directions, advice, even trivial nonsense like lunch recommendations. It was almost as if on purpose.

This afternoon was no different. Xavier had been looking forward to having lunch with you—just the two of you. You’d promised him, after all.

And yet—

“There was this one time I got trapped inside the N109 Zone—”

“N109 Zone!?”

“Yes!”

“Really?! What did you do then?”

“Hmm, so at first, I was in total panic, but then—”

For the past 15 minutes, your lunch break had been taken over by recounting your tales of valor as a hunter to the new recruit. Nearby, Xavier sat in brooding silence, scathingly sparing him a glance. The slight frown on his face said it all—blatant disinterest and a touch of irritation.

And you too... why are you engaging him so enthusiastically?

Then again, given his age, Xavier knew he had to be mature about this. He tried, really. If it had been someone like Jeremiah, he might have let it slide.

But there was just something about this new recruit—Sean, was it?—that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Whoa, you're so cool, Miss Y/N!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Not only are you pretty and talented, but you're also incredibly skilled! What do you even lack, eh?”

“Really, it's not that much,” you giggled, brushing him off. The way you got sheepish only made Xavier’s annoyance flare even further.

“Let me guess— a boyfriend!”

So that’s what it was. Now Xavier understood what about Sean that set him off. The entire time you’d been talking, he had been giving you those googly eyes.

He didn't like it one bit. He looked ridiculous while doing it.

Despite being silent as a mouse all the way, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “She has a boyfriend already.”

You turned to him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to announce it so bluntly.

“Oh...? Xavier, you know who her boyfriend is...?” Sean turned to him with curiosity.

He noticed it. How his expression fell ever so slightly upon he told him that you were already taken. Xavier huffed and stuffed his mouth with his ramen.

“Yeah. Her boyfriend lives next door.”

Technically, he lived upstairs, but the detail didn’t matter. He just needed to make his point known.

And somehow, for the rest of the day, the new recruit finally seemed to develop some sense—at least enough to stop hovering around you so frequently. Particularly when Xavier was nearby.

“Xavier... why did you tell him that?”

You fell into step beside your quiet boyfriend as the two of you headed home that evening, tilting your head as you replayed the events of the afternoon.

Xavier gave you a brief glance before looking straight ahead again, ignoring your question.

You observed him. There it was again—that gray cloud hovering over him. It always seemed to appear when he was in a bad mood.

Puckering your lips, you pressed further. “We haven’t even told anybody else about our relationship... And what you did there—you’re literally telling him we’re dating.”

“So what?” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual. “Are you afraid people might find out we are? Or—”

Xavier abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His usually vibrant blue eyes darkened, piercing into yours with a sharp gleam. “Are you afraid he will find out?”

There was something in his gaze that held you captive—that made your silly heart skip a beat.

“N-no...” you looked away, swallowing the heat that were about to take over your face. Why does Xavier look kind of... hot like that...?

Your cheeks warmed regardless, but you had to appease him. “Like I told you before, I just thought it’d be easier if this stays our little secret. It’s less of a bother if they don’t know…”

Reaching for his hand, you gave it a reassuring squeeze and flashed him a soft smile. “Besides, why would I be afraid if he knows? My boyfriend is cool, handsome, and the best hunter there is.”

You watched as Xavier's expression softened, the tension melting away. A faint blush crept up his cheeks too, and the gray cloud that had loomed over him finally disappeared. He squeezed your hand in return, looking away as if to hide the way he got bashful.

Adorable. For all his brooding, your boyfriend was surprisingly easy to soothe.

For the rest of the walk back to your apartment, you two remained hand-in-hand, the tension of the afternoon slipping away with each step.

. . .

You were staying over at Xavier's place tonight. After a relaxing bath and a hearty dinner, the two of you found yourselves standing side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes together.

It was mundane things like this that Xavier considered his favorite routine to do with you. Just as you handed him the last plate to dry, you spoke up, your voice breaking the quiet hum of contentment—

“Xavier, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking... Sean seems nice and friendly, but from what I’ve seen, you seem kind of... unwelcoming— almost hostile even towards him.”

At your words, a frown etched itself onto Xavier’s forehead as he turned to face you fully. You seemed so oblivious, standing there with a look of genuine curiosity.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned you incredulously.

You blinked. “Know what?”

Damn it. Xavier sighed and put down the dish he was holding, but the words faltered on his tongue as a sour expression crossed his face. “No matter,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and heavy, and you instinctively backed away—

“So,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes boring into yours as he took one hot step forward after another, “while Sean is nice and friendly, I’m hostile and unwelcoming, huh?”

—only to find yourself pressed against the window, unable to retreat further.

He stood in front of you now, his arms caging you in, creating a barrier that sealed off any chance of escape.

Uh-oh. Apparently, you had flipped that switch—

The air between you grew thick, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I'm getting at—”

“He’s been eyeing you all day, following you around... getting lunches with you—”

In that moment, your phone erupted to life, its ringtone cutting through the tension. It sat on the small table near the windowsill, and Xavier gave it a quick glance, his expression darkening upon seeing Sean's name flash on the screen.

“Oh?” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “He’s now calling you at nights too?”

“No!” you quickly refuted, your words tumbling out almost too fast. “Xavier, don’t get the wrong idea—”

He tilted your jaw to face him, holding your spooked gaze. “Then what idea am I supposed to be getting when he’s so blatantly pursuing you and you don't even do anything about it?”

The plot twist is... you know. Of course you knew it when a guy was trying to make a move on you, you just pretended not to notice it because it was easier that way. You didn’t know which devil had planted this rotten idea in your head that made you want to push Xavier to the edge, just to see how he'd react when he held nothing back—

The call tonight was a coincidence though, but definitely fueled your lover's ire even more. It was a dangerous game, but now that you’d crossed this line, you couldn't go back any longer.

Your lips curled into a bewitching smile then, and your boyfriend was almost mystified. "So, what will you do to me?"

Xavier looked at you with slightly widened eyes, not expecting your boldness at all. But then he grimaced, as at the same time, the irritation in his veins suddenly flared up—

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned you that you faced the window, his right arm wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed his body against yours—his hardness pressing, almost poking you.

“You’re so clueless,” he growled into your ear before going after your neck, sucking hard and fast. His hips began to grind against you, pressing harder with each movement. “Too damn clueless...!”

His fingers that gripped your belly moved then, slipping inside your frisky nightgown to finger you— and you lost all your wits in that instant. “Ah-h—!”

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging them almost rashly, and it took everything in you to stay upright. "X-Xavier!"

“Mmph,” he breathed against the skin of your neck, his other arm pressing you against him tighter, simultaneously squeezing your breasts. "You asked for it."

Your thighs were trembling in no time, and your breaths came in shaky moans. Your boyfriend was not exactly gentle, but this is probably the first time in a while that he was being rough without reservations. While you wanted to protest, it felt too good—

He turned your face towards him then, crashing his lips on yours.

It almost felt like you were punished, but you couldn't do anything about it. The tension in your lower belly was steadily building, ready to snap at any moment, and the way his fingers relentlessly hitting that one unforgivable spot was starting to made you dizzy.

"Ah—ngh!" You finally shuddered when you reached your climax. It was freeing when you felt yourself burst on his fingers, the release smearing your thighs.

And right then your knees buckled—

But Xavier immediately got a secure hold over you, lifting your body effortlessly into his arms, one hand supporting your knees, the other cradling your back. Through your teary eyes, you met his gaze once more. His expression was unreadable, a dark haze of disapproval clouding his features.

“I’m not done yet.”

He brought you over to his bed, gently lying you down despite the roughness of his voice. He parted your legs, getting himself between them—

Ring! Ring!

The shrill sound of your phone pierced the coolness of the room, and you almost jolted.

But your lover... the sound was like a spell to him, only intensifying his irritation as his features twisted with frustration, and you knew that he was about to take it on you.

As if changing his mind, Xavier suddenly flipped you over that you laid on your stomach and straddled you from behind. He quickly turned your head to face him and claimed your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

“Mm, hmmp—!” The ringtone of your phone blared in the background, a jarring sound that wasn't pleasant at the slightest. It wasn’t until it finally stopped that he pulled away from the kiss.

You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving, and a stray tear slipped from your eyes. Xavier stared at you, and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Flushed, sweaty, tearful... you looked so enchanting in his eyes in that moment. He almost felt bad that he had manhandled you this roughly.

Almost.

His hands gripped your waist, and he paused, his gaze locked with yours, silently seeking your approval— or more like, commanding you to give it to him.

In response, you arched your back— a silent affirmation, bracing yourself.

From then on, he was no longer holding back. He tugged your panties down and let his throbbing member out of his pants. It was laughable how insatiable he was— both of you were still clothed, save for his unbuttoned shirt, but he was already this aroused and hard.

He nudged forward, his tip breaching your entrance. The feeling of that familiar stretch left you keeling, babbles and whimpers falling from your lips as he slowly eased into you.

It was hard to take him in fully, and you were a mess of breathy gasps the moment you did. But you were in for the main ride when he started ramming into you, pushing in and out of you in a merciless pace.

"Ah... Xavier!" you panted between thrusts, feeling how it started to be too much for you the more he went on. "Ahh, hrah!"

Behind you, Xavier groaned in reply, his lips sucking your shoulder as his hips quickened, striving to bring you to the peak faster. One of his large hands dug into the skin of your stomach, urging your back to arch more, while the other clasped yours, fingers entwined in the sheets.

He watched intently as your face twisted and contorted in ecstasy, a surge of pride swelling within him, greater than he thought possible.

It was mind-blowing, slightly forceful, and your senses were all heightened. The harsh pace drew cries from your lips, your tears falling to the sheets, yet the pleasure also catapulted you into the stars—

The sinful delight of having him so deep within you.

The sinful rapture of being thrusted over and over.

“Ahhh!” And then, all at once, it was as if heaven and hell collided in a cataclysmic burst. Everything inside you shattered as you cried out—a scream morphing into a high-pitched gasp—as the two of you reached the climax together. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your walls clasped around him impossibly tight as Xavier filled you with everything that he had in one shot.

You collapsed against the sheets like a ragdoll, the pressure finally easing from your sore spine.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Xavier...”

The morning after. You stirred awake, your mind still foggy with sleep, as muffled voices filtered in from outside the bedroom.

“I have to take an urgent leave today...”

You were still utterly drained, your body heavy and unwilling to move. Instinctively, your hand reached out to your side, searching for your lover, but the spot was empty.

“Yes. Y/N too. She isn’t well today... We will be back tomorrow...”

You let out a soft, tired whine, your voice plaintive, as you lay sprawled across the bed, wishing for his warmth to return. Honestly, everything was still sore, and you were this close to tears again.

The door then opened with a creak not long after, and you let out a whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you awake...?” Xavier's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he stepped closer to the bed.

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry. He was already dressed, his crisp appearance in stark contrast to your disheveled state. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag.

“What’s that...?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to prop yourself up, curiosity flickering through your tired gaze.

“Don’t get up too quickly,” Xavier murmured, his hands steady as he caught you mid-movement. He guided you back down and tucked the blankets snugly around you, his touch gentle yet firm. “Just rest for now.”

A low hum of contentment escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Your bleary eyes focused solely on him, and despite himself, Xavier found a smile tugging at his lips.

“I just went to the drugstore downstairs to get you some painkillers,” he explained, lifting the small plastic bag slightly. “Take them after you’ve had some breakfast later.”

He then fixed you a bashful grimace, looking down. “Sorry for... uh, last night... I think I’ve pushed you too far.”

His fingers reached out, brushing gently against your cheek. The same fingers that had driven you to the brink of madness the night before now so tender against your skin. “You were crying,” he murmured, guilt lacing his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Mm-hm, so that’s what happens when you don’t hold back at all,” you snickered softly, the corners of your mouth curving despite the lingering ache in your body.

Xavier shifted his gaze away, his confidence faltering. “Will you... hate me for it?”

It was hard to contain your smile from breaking out into a grin. Your boyfriend, a ferocious wolf in a sheep’s clothing, had no need for this shy charade when he had railed you that hard last night.

“No, but you’re going to have to make it up to me. I can’t even walk now.”

Xavier blinked before he patted your head. “Yeah, I’ll fulfill any of your wishes,” he sighed in relief, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “So, what is it?”

You paused for a moment, then with a mischievous glint in your eye, you said, “Take me to the bathroom? I want to have a shower first.”

And, of course, he obliged. With a effortless motion, Xavier scooped you up into a princess carry, holding you close. His arms cradled you with care, and you rested against his chest, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of security.

Just like that, you spent the rest of the day as lovers, sleeping in with careless abandon, unburdened by your duties.

Epilogue

Later in the afternoon, you were once again deep in a sleep as Xavier cuddled you close, when suddenly the doorbell of his apartment rang incessantly.

Frowning, Xavier carefully eased himself out of bed, making sure not to disturb your slumber. He moved quietly towards the door, and when he saw the intercom, his frown worsened.

Sean, the newbie, was at his doorstep. He had half a mind to ignore him, but after a beat, he decided to open the door.

“What do you want?” his voice sharp with annoyance.

“Oh, Xavier!” The guy was stunned for a moment as his eyes lingered on Xavier’s chiseled abs, exposed through the his unbuttoned shirt. “O-oh, so... I’ve been trying to ring the doorbell to Y/N's apartment to give her a fruit basket to wish her a fast recovery, but she’s not answering—” he hastily explained, gesturing toward the basket in his hand. “Can you reach her—?”

Xavier felt like popping a vein at how meddlesome this guy was. Was this guy an idiot? Didn’t he realize by now that he was your next-door boyfriend?

Nevermind. The hard way it is.

“She’s with me.”

“H-huh?”

He shot him a pointed look. “Don't think you’ll have a chance with her, newbie.”

And with that, he shut the door in his face.

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mono-dot-jpeg · 12 days ago

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big sister - hyun ju

summary; a big sister will always protect, but when will she be able to relax?

genre/extra tags; one shot, found family, fluff, hurt/comfort?, canon typical violence, i dont like the second season writing, but i can not deny myself this diva, that's mother !!, teen! reader, hyun ju is the only reason i decided to watch this season, slight canon divergence bc i have the mind of a goldfish, canon typical sad heavy conversations, big sister is written to be seen as the korean honorific "unnie", older sister moments written in the point of view of a younger sibling, unintentional love letter for my appreciation to my sister, reader is implied to be some form of lgbt but not out (im projecting)

[platonic] [gender-neutral reader]

[warning; mentions of transphobic ideas]

a/n; before people ask, no, im not doing requests for this show. i just don't feel fully comfortable writing for squid game. i just really wanted to write this because, believe it or not, i write for my enjoyment. even i do switch off here every few months or every other month.

dinner had rolled around after an intense "game" of life or death. how you managed to survive this long is beyond you. but you might have a strong idea of why you're living so long, and it was the strong woman who was sitting beside you with some of the other women who were surviving so far.

the old lady had pointed out that hyun ju was not like other people. and it really was odd to her. but hyun ju was used to that. more than used to it. she lived through it since she decided to come out.

you listen to the conversation, not really putting your two cents in as it seemed like there was no right time to butt in. but as the conversation continued, the mood was just a little lighter. and that was more than enough morale. the old lady seemed to slowly understand hyun ju and her struggle.

you've zoned out so much, you almost fail to notice hyun ju sneaking an egg onto your shabby given lunch box meal. you look up at her as she gives you a warm look before pretending that she didn't just do that.

you mix the rice with not much thought, spilling some bits of rice and egg over its metal container before you slowly eat. unbeknownst to you, hyun ju glances back at you as if to make sure you're actually eating and not staring off with a tired look that no teen or child should have. you've seen everything, you're part of this sick game, she may not know your story, but she knows you don't deserve any of the bad you've been through.

you're the youngest in the entire room, a room filled with people with insurmountable debt and issues. hyun ju can only imagine your worry, your anxiety, the burden.

when the first game got serious, you were trying your damned hardest to keep your fear contained under the watchful eye of that robot scanning every movement. she was right in front of you, keeping you safe along with the rest of the people who lined up with her. you look like you wanted to cry the moment you got to the finish line. if she wasn't full of adrenaline at the time, she probably would've heard how hard your heart was beating.

somehow, she had taken two people under her care. you and young-mi. how could she not care about a young woman like young-mi and a teen like yourself? two anxious people forced to live a life full of debt and pain when you both deserved nothing but comfort and love.

people start lining up in their beds for nighttime. gi-hun was very insistent on being careful at night. it was dangerous. some people were not behind just killing others at night to sweeten the pot of money that loomed over everyone's head like a golden sun.

as most of the adults started to climb in their beds, you stand awkwardly. you weren't a stranger to sleeping a room full of people, but you were definitely a little paranoid after what gi-hun was talking about.

you find yourself naturally gravitating to hyun ju. her presence was just so calming, and she was so caring for others. it was hard not to get attached. young-mi had taken to calling her big sister. and you found yourself doing the same when you call out to her softly.

"big sister?" you gently tap at her arm as she turns to look at you. she silently urges you to continue speaking with a gentle look. you can see the tired in her eyes, but she looks at you, unwilling to say no. "this is embarrassing..." you mutter.

"it's okay. i'm here." she reassures you.

"can i stay with you tonight? i'm-" you choke a little bit on your words, not only out of embarrassment but fear. "i'm really scared. i don't wanna be alone." you confess.

she softens, "i would love to let you, but it's too risky. if people come for us, it would be very hard to fight back. i'm so sorry, kid." she opens her arm out for a hug, and you take the comfort you can get in this shitty place. "i will do my best to keep you safe, alright? when we get out of here, i'm going to find you again, and we can help each other, yeah? i'll protect you."

you nodded with her words, not finding the heart to say anything. she takes this as a sign to start guiding you into your bunk bed on top. at least the top bunks would be somewhat safer for you. you hesitantly climb into bed. "if a fight breaks out, hide. run. just be safe. i will find you, and you'll be safe." she continues to reassure you the best she can.

"okay. goodnight big sister." you whispered. "please be safe."

"i will." she said with a calm confidence that only she could pull off that didn't make you feel worried for her.

you hope that you get out of here, so you don't have to see the worried exhaustion in her eyes anymore.

she was a big sister by heart and soul. you just hoped her big heart wouldn't lead her to her doom. she protects and gives, but when will she relax?

#squid game x reader #squid game #cho hyunju #cho hyunju x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game season 2 x reader #hyunju x reader #hyun ju x reader

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ceilidho · 4 months ago

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 16 + 17) tw: violence, injuries, and misogynistic language

first chapter >> last chapter

Sinking into fear is the body’s natural response. You let it envelope you without putting up a struggle. It wouldn’t be one that you’d win anyway. Resistance already leaks out of you like tar, pooling around your quivering legs.

It makes you feel lighter than air, almost buoyant; and conversely, heavier than lead.

You can’t feel the cold metal of the gun through the layers of fabric separating it from the skin of your back, but you can feel its weight. And you can imagine it burning into you, burning a ring into the flesh, the muzzle leaving faint depressions behind, circular indents.

“Don’t feel so clever now, huh?”

Fear chokes as well as it binds. When the man you remember as Graves (appropriately named, you think, the gravity of the situation sinking into you as well) drawls the words into your ear, any moisture in your mouth dries.

“Well?” he prompts, shoving the gun harder into your back, almost sending you toppling into the shelf still in front of you obscuring you from sight. “Got anythin’ to say?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“You a mute, girl? I know you ain’t deaf since you heard I’d been sniffin’ around lookin’ for ya. ‘Least I’m guessin’ you did, since you managed to give me the slip for the whole time I was in town.” He sniffs. “Took me a while to find out you were shacked up with the sheriff. Hiding in plain sight. Couldn’t believe I missed ya when Sheriff Price was damn near the first person I met in this two-bit town.”

You finally muster up the nerve to speak. “Y-you’re making a mistake.”

The furled upper lip is audible in his voice. “I’d try not to piss me off too much, sugar. Lyin’ just rubs me the wrong way is all.”

“No, you—you really don’t—”

He shoves the gun harder into your back, making you wince. “Now, I know you’re a slippery little bitch, so I’ll level with you, alright?” Graves murmurs, pitching his voice low to ensure that only you hear. “You make so much as a peep—so much as a fuckin’ whisper—and I’ll shoot. Wink and I’ll shoot. I am dyin’ for you to give me a reason to go with the better half of the dead or alive question.”

There’s no point in lying. It might’ve worked had it been anyone but the man holding you hostage; not a man as stubborn and mulish as him. You nod when he asks if you understand.

“Now get to steppin’.”

He doesn’t tarry long, leading you out of the shop with a hand on your shoulder and . You stare at Miles with mounting horror, wordlessly begging him to look up from the ledger open in front of him on the counter. Your prayers go unanswered though; he doesn’t so much as glance towards the door before it’s swinging shut behind you.

“Remember,” Graves says in a low voice as the two of you step out onto the porch, “not a word. I will shoot anyone that tries to interfere.”

That kills the impulse to shout for help.

The thought of letting Graves take you away without voicing so much as a single plea fills you with horror, but you can’t see any other way out. He walks you through the streets like an old friend, the pistol still wedged into your back obscured by his coat. No one seems to notice the wild look in your eyes or the strained edge of your smile.

Your behavior infuriates you. Demural and soft and wretched. You’ve only allowed one man to put you under their thumb; only one has ever earned the right.

The thought of your husband is an ache in your chest that doesn’t abate. It thumps with the terrified flutter of your heart. You half wonder if he’ll suddenly appear from around a bend and wrench you into his arms, gun already drawn and aimed at the man attempting to take you away from him.

“My husband—” you start, tripping over your words. Almost tripping over a rock as well since your spine is too stiff to let you look down at the ground while you walk. “—He can—he can pay you.”

He laughs, a nasty, mocking sound. “I’m sure he’d like to, sugar. Jus' ain’t sure he’s got the cash to pay your price.”

“At least let me ask—”

At that, he jams the gun violently into the small of your back, making you wince agaun. Petrified. Sweat sluices off your brow and drips down your face. “What part of shut the fuck up don’t you get?”

That silences you. Hard to muster up the nerve to retaliate with a gun lodged against the base of your spine. Still there’s so much that bears asking. Why did he come back? Why here—why now?

The town takes on a dull, listless quality as he steers you away from the more crowded areas. It’s almost like looking through muslin; a veil between you and the world.

Your eyes dart from person to person as they pass by in the opposite direction, but even those that bother to meet your gaze only smile politely, a couple passing gentlemen chirping, “Morning, Mrs. Price” before sweeping by in a hurry.

None question the wild, frantic glint in your eye, the look of a horse about to bolt. If they paid you more than a moment’s notice, they might, but even the lady who frowns curiously at Graves, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if he were an old, dear friend, abandons her momentary curiosity when her companion says something of interest, pulling her back into their conversation. The flicker of hope in your belly dies a soundless death.

There’s something almost phantasmagorical about the entire ordeal. Almost like it isn’t quite happening, like you can’t quite make yourself believe that this is, in fact, real. Like you’re watching from outside of yourself. Though you can see the wooden facades of the nearby buildings and smell the scent of hay and manure from the livery stable, it doesn’t resonate within you as real.

He meanders through town with you stationed in front of him. A meat shield. Collateral damage. Simply by the way he maneuvers you through the crowd, he reduces you to a body, stripping you of any semblance of personhood. You’re less than meat to him, less than human even—no more than a meal ticket.

When you muster up the courage to open your mouth the next time someone passes you by, Graves’ hand slides up to your shoulder and he digs his fingers into the bone. A warning.

“If you think I was kiddin’ before, just try me,” he sneers into your ear, thumb pressing into your shoulder blade until you wince.

Again, his voice dispels any thought of getting someone’s attention.

He doesn’t lead you towards the train station like you expect. Instead, he heads to an awning beneath the saloon on the periphery of town where a couple horses are leashed to a post, waiting for their riders to come untie them. The roof of the awning is strung with a dense cluster of overlapping cobwebs. A spider scuttles across the web and into the dark inner recesses of the canopy.

This far from the center of town, there’s hardly anyone. When you give your surroundings a quick glance, you can’t find a single other soul within earshot, only a single man pushing open the batwing doors on his way into the saloon. Then you’re alone again.

A tawny gelding chuffs when Graves approaches. When he suddenly unhands you, it doesn’t click until he’s several paces away from you, running his hand down his horse’s neck and rifling through the saddlebags, emptying the contents of his coat pockets into them. You have to glance down at your shoulder just to be sure. He sheathes his gun as well, tucking it into the holster fixed to his belt.

“Bought the horse off a drunk three towns back,” Graves explains while loading up the horse.

You don’t respond, still unsettled. It’s the first time since he led you out of the general store that his gun hasn’t been aimed at you. It wouldn’t be practical for him to dress and load the horse one handed. The sun beats down on you, burning the top of your head. This could be your moment—a moment to scream or run away.

But you don’t. You don’t scream and you don’t run because you are, above all else, a coward. Through and through. You’ve been running from your problems for months now, leaving someone else to take care of the mess you left behind.

Fear paralyzes you; it makes you think too much or not at all. Even now, with Graves giving you the perfect opportunity to turn and run, you can’t stop thinking about the potential consequences. What if he were to shoot you? What if he were to haul you back into town and expose your sins to everyone who gathered around? What if the people in town that have come to see you as one of their own were to gather around your crumpled form and stare at you with vitriol and disgust?

“How did you—” you start, then pause to breathe, the nausea building again. “I thought you’d left town.”

“You’d’ve liked that, huh?”

You don’t answer that. You know better than to antagonize a man with a gun.

He sighs when you don’t rise to the bait, almost pettish. “Wedding announcement. I saw it in the paper—by then, I’d moved on to Lexington, so it took me awhile to backtrack, but I just knew somethin’ about that bit in the paper about the sheriff’s wife hailing from the east coast didn’t sound right. Too big of a coincidence. Had to at least be sure—retrace my footsteps. Lotta money on the line, you know.”

You stare straight ahead at that. You ought to have known.

(“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”)

“To be honest, that kinda cracked me up. Murderess marrying the county sheriff.” He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorta thing you’d read about in a dime novel.”

A new emotion wells up within you. It simmers in your belly, hot and cold at once. Righteous fury. All this time, you’ve been betraying yourself with your silence, allowing men to read your fear as guilt. Complicit in your own ruin.

“I’m not a murderer.”

The look he gives you is withering. “Sugar, I hate to break it to you, but you did kill a man.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing ever does, it seems. But the more you hold it in, the uglier the thought seems, until it erupts from your chest like Vesuvius, lava and tephra shooting out.

“He deserved it,” you finally spit out, the words coming from deep in your chest.

Graves doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, back to tightening the saddle straps.

“He deserved it,” you repeat, spittle flying out of your mouth and landing in the dirt between the two of you.

“That’s not somethin’ I usually concern myself with,” he finally says, looking distinctly unimpressed when he meets your stare. Bored blue eyes.

You’re struck by the sense that your life means so little to him that the circumstances surrounding your bounty hardly merit more than a passing thought. If he could spare less, he would.

It’s the vilest thing in the world to be regarded with such bored contempt.

“He would’ve—he would’ve raped me otherwise. I didn’t have a choice.”

At that, Graves pauses. When he looks towards you, his eyes are curiously blank.

“Better that than what’ll happen now,” he says, the words so perfunctory that it takes a moment for them to sink in. When they do, you have to swallow back bile.

His glibness shatters whatever hope you’d had left.

In that moment, you finally acknowledge that appealing to his sense of decency won’t lead you anywhere because it simply doesn’t exist within him. You’ve known men like him before—those more concerned with lining their own pockets than taking care of the vulnerable people around them. The archetype is not uncommon. You should’ve expected it even, especially from a bounty hunter.

There won’t be any bribing him or talking your way out of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Whatever facinorous end awaits you back east, he’s happy to shepherd you there so long as it earns him his thirty coins.

How many times do you have to ask yourself if you’re brave enough to do something before you answer?

When Graves turns to face you again and takes a step towards you, likely to urge you up onto the saddle, you recoil, stumbling away from him. His eyes sharpen at your movement, fulvous wolf eyes narrowing on you.

“And here I thought you’d stopped pissin’ me off,” he says lightly, a hard edge underlying his words. His hand lifts to rest against the handle of the revolver tucked back in its sheath, thumb flexing over it.

“What’s the point?” you retort, nostrils flaring. “You either kill me here or I die there.”

You sound braver than you feel, fear making you shake so hard that your knees almost knock together.

Graves’ smile is all lip, no crinkling around the eyes. “Oh, I won’t kill you, sugar. I’m a better shot than that.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, stomach turning over at the thought of him putting a bullet through your shoulder or leg.

“I’m surprised you won’t just come quietly. You think the sheriff wouldn’t hand you over to me himself if he found out what kinda woman he married?”

That’s been your fear from the very beginning. The one thing that’s kept you awake at night, the nightmare shaking you out of a dead sleep. You’d convinced yourself that him calling the authorities or even escorting you back east himself was an inevitability. That John Price, paragon of virtue, wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, much less you.

But the more you think about it, the less sense it seems to make. Every tender word and touch rises to the forefront of your memory. If John has shown you anything, it’s love. He’s proven his devotion a thousand times over, shown you time and again that were you to leave, he’d come running.

Suddenly, the thought that your husband would let someone take you away from him seems preposterous. It doesn’t align at all with the man you know. He’d go to hell and back for you, would rip out a man’s tongue for speaking to you the way Graves speaks to you now. Hindsight makes that clear.

You meet his eyes, intention set. “I’d rather just ask him.”

Blue eyes turn to flint, flat. Droll candor shed for ruthlessness. Silence before a storm.

He’s on you before you even have a chance to whirl around and make a run for it, arm cutting into your windpipe when he wraps it around your neck. He drags you back into the shadows of the awning, out of sight from anyone on the street; your heels score lines in the dirt. You choke, wheezing on your next breath, but his arm tightens, trapping the scream in your throat.

“Shoulda done this before,” Graves grunts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the pair of cuffs he had tucked away.

When he unhooks his arm from around your neck, you gasp for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Panic swirls and rises in your chest.

“Get your hands off—” you hiss, beating his arm with your fist to no avail. He yanks your arms in front of you until your wrists are pressed close together. Your blood curdles at the feeling of cold iron against your skin and the gut-wrenching sound of handcuffs being fixed around your wrists, tightened to the point of pain. You can hardly flex your hands with how tight they’re bound. “Let me go, let ME GO—”

He pulls you in close again. “Don’t think I won’t tape your fuckin’ mouth shut too,” Graves snarls in your ear. Nausea swells in your belly.

“Please— please don’t do this—” you beg, a sob breaking from your chest now.

He sighs, long suffering. “Lord knows I tried to warn you.”

Despite the threat, Graves doesn’t tape your mouth shut. Instead, he fastens a rough piece of rope around your head, fitting it between your teeth like a bit. You don’t have it in you to be thankful for small mercies this time. The hemp cord scratches the corners of your mouth when you try to move your lips around it.

“There,” he says, giving you a rough shake, satisfied. “That’s better. Can finally hear myself think.”

The tears leak out of the corners of your eyes in big, fat droplets, clouding your vision. When he wipes your cheeks with a calloused hand, the nail of his thumb catches on the delicate skin under your eye, leaving a thin cut. The pain makes you flinch, staring daggers at the man in front of you, but he doesn’t apologize for his rough handling.

Graves heaves himself up onto the saddle first, swinging a leg over with practiced ease. You yelp when he hauls you up after, setting you on the saddle in front of him. Heat crawls up your neck when your skirt billows around your waist, horrified.

“Save your tears, sugar,” he tells you, gathering the reins in one hand. “You’ll need ‘em for later.”

The horse whinnies when Graves pulls upward and guides him towards the road leading out of town, hooves clopping against the dirt. Your heart shoots up into your throat.

Galloping out of town, you chance a glance back, head spinning as the world blurs around you. A man stands under the awning you just left, his head cocked as if stupefied. He’s too far away for you to get a proper look at his face though, no way to tell if he’s someone that might recognize you and alert John. You try to scream or wave your hands—anything to get his attention, to let the stranger know that something is wrong.

You watch until the figure melds into the surrounding town.

You keep waiting for someone to appear from behind you. A tall figure to darken the horizon, blot it like the moon passing over the sun.

The last bastion of your hope collapses into rubble the farther away you ride, no man nor horse following you in pursuit. And then a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back around, cutting off your view.

The plan is to leave the horse in the next town you reach and take a train back east. Graves would’ve done that back in the town you just left, he tells you, but he wanted to put as much distance between you and the sheriff.

“You never know with men who’ve gotten a taste of married life,” he says when he finally deigns to stop miles from town, sitting on a rock and having a drink while he leaves you tied to the horse by your wrists. You shift from foot to foot, a cramp winding up your legs. “They get themselves a little pussy and lose all sense of dignity or morality. Can’t be trusted to do the right thing.”

Steam practically billows out of your ears. You have the good sense to keep your mouth shut though, cognizant of the fact that you’re alone out in the middle of nowhere with a man who’d be happy to bring you back dead or alive. Though he hasn’t been quite so explicit, it’s apparent in the way he doesn’t offer to untie you or let you rest as well. The skin under the cuffs on your wrists are rubbed raw from your attempts to free yourself, and from the journey itself, with all the jostling and the persistent cramp in your right shoulder.

The animal awareness dawns on you during that first rest. He’d taken the rope out when you were far enough outside of town that it didn’t matter if you screamed or not. That’s what stays your tongue now—the creeping notion that you are far from anyone that would be remotely sympathetic to your plight.

“How much was the bounty?” you ask, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. You balance on one foot to shake the cramp out of the other.

“Now, I hate to be rude, sugar, but what does it matter to you? It ain’t you collecting the reward.”

Your lips flatten into a taut line, already regretting prying. It’s not like knowing would change anything.

The break ends sooner than you’d hoped, Graves urging you back onto the horse before taking a seat behind you. It troubles you because you’re not far enough away from town that you couldn’t still be rescued. There’d be more of a chance of John or someone else—one of his deputies, perhaps—coming across you out here. But you don’t have much of a choice.

Out here, the land stretches on without end. Only the faint blue of a mountain ridge paralleling your route breaks the horizon. The land is flat, sparse apart from the dense shrubbery and trees twisted and bent by the wind. Cottonwood and boxelder. Chokecherry. Dogwood and hawthorn. Lush blooming saltbrush.

The clear blue sky overhead is almost mocking, the rain from earlier long since abated. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky now. It’d be scenic if you could abstract it from the circumstances. A perfect day for gardening or a brisk walk after being kept indoors because of the rain. You’re still damp from riding through the rain earlier.

A few bison congregate in a small dip in the terrain, grazing on the wild grass. You stare at them wide-eyed as you gallop along the upper ridge, startled by the sight of so many in one place.

Despite the sublime beauty of the land, you remain on edge, unable to take anything in or truly enjoy it. Panic and revulsion leave you as gnarled and knotted as the krummholz trees out in the middle of the open plains. Riding with Graves feels nothing like the few times you and John shared a horse. It’s impersonal; transactional. Entirely against your will.

The sun has only just begun to descend under the horizon when you and Graves approach a ramshackle house situated by itself in the middle of the open plains. Barely more than a barn, and long since abandoned by the looks of it. Age has done the place no favors; wooden slats sag and separate from the exterior of the house, the gaps in between the boards letting in all manner of insects and rot.

Graves dismounts his horse about a stone’s throw from the hovel. His brow furrows with dissatisfaction as he surveys the abandoned property.

“Shit,” he remarks, sucking his teeth. “A local back in town swore a family still lived here. Don’t look like anyone’s lived here since Abraham.”

Part of you wishes the former tenants still resided here, on the off possibility that one might take pity on you, but a much larger part of you is grateful for the dwelling’s vacancy. You’ve heard stories before, of families living out in the middle of nowhere. Rumors. Not all bad, of course; it’s common enough for families migrating west sometimes to stop along the way for a generation or two, building more permanent dwellings than the caravans they began their journey in. Many such families were also known for putting up travelers passing through in exchange for goods or help with chores.

But you’ve also heard other stories. Like the Riley family out near Cherryvale and their homestead just off the Great Osage Trail. They lived out there for more than two decades before the number of lone travelers vanishing off the trail within walking distance of their property pointed the finger of suspicion at them. When the authorities finally got around to procuring a warrant for their property, they found the house deserted apart from the furniture that couldn’t be loaded into the wagon and an infant boy, dehydrated and petrified.

You shake the story from your head. “…Are we spending the night here?” you ask tentatively.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, nostrils flared. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas in that head of yours. Jus’ because a man’s gotta rest his eyes, don’t mean I gotta give you a peaceful night’s rest. No, I’m leavin’ those hands of yours tied.”

Your hopes deflate at that.

He helps you dismount before hobbling his horse with a pair of leather straps around its front legs to keep it from darting off in the middle of the night. You wince sympathetically; you have more in common with a horse now than any man.

The inside of the cabin is just as derelict as the exterior. At the very least, he feeds you. A couple scoops of pemmican straight from the tin. The fact that he insists on feeding you instead of letting you feed yourself puts you on edge. Your spine is stiff as a board through it all, your mouth barely opening up to receive the spoonful of pemmican, the metal clanking against your teeth. You wince, the sound itself tasting of rust.

At all times, you are aware of the precarity of your situation. You can’t imagine there were any stipulations in the bounty to bring you back unscathed. Though he hasn’t tried anything untoward so far—not so much as made a licentious remark—you don’t know how long your luck will last. You flinch every time he so much as twitches in your direction, sure at any moment his mood will flip and he’ll drag you across the floor and haul himself over you.

It’s enough to make your stomach hurt, turning over itself. He doesn’t try anything though, and for that you exhale shakily, the tension running off you in rivulets.

One hour drags into the next. Night blackens the sky, seeping in through the crumbling walls of the cabin.

“Well,” Graves says, wiping his hands together to dust off any lingering crumbs. “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Do…do I get to sleep as well?”

He cocks a brow. “Not much I can do to stop you.”

“It’s just that…” You lift your hands as you trail off, silently pointing out the handcuffs still secured around your wrists, the implicit assertion being that you won’t be able to sleep with the metal digging into the bones of your wrists.

Graves scoffs. “You can’t think I’ll just uncuff you ‘cause we ain’t in town no more. I got a little more sense than that, sugar.”

“You could use rope instead?” you suggest.

The seconds he spends considering it are long. You hold your breath as you watch him weigh the pros and cons.

Finally, he shrugs. “Alright.”

The relief that washes over you is almost palpable.

He pulls a blanket out of one of the saddlebags to function as a makeshift pillow, setting it up on the floor in the center of the room. True to his word, Graves uncuffs you and loops a double knotted rope around your wrists instead, fastening the rope tying your hands together around his own wrist. Your stomach sinks as he pulls the knot taut.

He levels a heavy stare on you after giving the rope one last tug. “I don’t usually repeat myself, sugar, but I will this one time. Don’t go tryin’ anythin’ stupid. I’m gettin’ a good night’s rest and so help me if you wake me up—” his eyes flash, gray going steely “—you won’t like the consequences.”

You nod. Swallow back the phlegm clogging your throat.

True night plunges the old house into darkness, cricket songs slipping in through the cracks in the walls. The temperature also plunges with the setting sun. It gets cold at night, even in the summer months; the draft makes you shiver, the rotting exterior letting in the elements.

You keep to the wall with the least amount of rotting boards, as far as the rope tethering you to Graves will allow you to go. It would probably be in your best interest to try and get some sleep, but you’re far too restless to calm down. The atmosphere in the house is far too eerie to settle your nerves either; you can’t help but wonder about the family that must have left this place to rot and fade away into memory.

It’s all you can do to blink back the tears that spring to your eyes when you think about the memory of you that John will have to carry into the future now that you’re gone. It isn’t fair. After everything you’ve had to endure in this lifetime, you thought maybe that this might have been your reward. That John was your reward.

Your hands drop from your chin to your knees, hopelessness plaguing you again. The thin, sharp whistle of defeat. High and reedy as a death rattle.

Then your eyes drop to your wrists.

The cord is fastened in a bowline knot around your wrists, difficult to undo without considerable effort, but the material is softer than the cuffs Graves had you in before, and it gives when you pull one hand down while pushing the other up. Your skin bunches around the cord, but it doesn’t cut into you the way the metal did.

Graves is still fast asleep when you glance over at him. He doesn’t snore, but the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket is steady. Stable.

The fatigue dissipates from your body the second you put it together. That there’s a sliver of a possibility of slipping your hands out of the rope tying you to Graves. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming. You have to sit with it a beat before acting, wary of letting your guard down too fast.

Time passes slowly as you fiddle with the knot, reaching your fingers as far as they’ll go and gritting your teeth through the ensuing cramp in your wrist. You nearly groan in frustration when your hand twitches and you accidentally retighten the knot. A near crushing blow.

Please, you mouth more than whisper, frustrated tears clumped in your lashes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, pinching off the wail rising up your throat.

Your heart skips a beat when the rope loosens around one of your wrists, enough for you to wiggle a pinkie underneath and slowly shimmy it up the length of your hand. A cramp makes your pinkie spasm, almost causing you to lose your grip. Sweat pools in the cup of your palm.

When your wrists are finally free, the rope clutched in trembling hands and the basal joint of your thumb scrapped raw from the fibrous rope, you can only sit there, heart beating wildly in your chest. You have to force yourself to remain calm, wary of waking Graves up after all that effort. His eyelids quiver only with his dreams though.

You glance towards the door on the other side of the cabin. It seems either farther away now that you know it’s within reach. You know better than to just run straight for it though. Weeks of being on the run before finding John have taught you to pace yourself, to push down the fluttering evocation in your chest to make a mad dash for the closest way out.

Instead, you take a deep breath out, closing your eyes until you’ve calmed down. Then you rise slowly to your feet.

Your eyes, having long since adjusted to the darkness, scan the room for any loose floorboards. Aside from one obvious corner of the house which has begun to rot away and collapse, it’s hard for you to discern at a glance which boards will groan under the weight of your feet. You have no choice but to guess.

Each step has you on edge, heart in your throat. Your focus shifts quicksilver between the floor and Graves. Waiting for any sudden movement.

Halfway to the door, you take another cautious step forward and the floorboard creaks under your foot. Your heart stops, eyes flitting instantly over to Graves’ sleeping form. He doesn’t so much as shift. It’s another beat before you’re able to move again, confidence shaken by the noise. You keep imagining him suddenly shooting up from the floor, pistol in hand, the hammer striking the primer, the hiss of gas escaping the barrel.

The door gives a faint creak when you push it open, so you open it only enough for your body to slip through, wincing when you twitch and accidentally push it open another inch, dragging out the creak. Still, he doesn't wake. You slip past the door, shutting it quietly behind you.

The moon glows cornsilk gold in the sky. A vast, uncharted land stretches out around you, untouched by human hands, or so changed over the years that any human presence has long since been buried beneath the loam. But when you stare out into the distance, you realize that you have no idea where you came from. Everything looks the same in each direction, no landmark familiar enough for you to orient yourself. You’re out in the middle of nowhere and nothing looks right.

If you had less strength, you’d fall to your knees. The despair is so immense that you hardly have the strength to hold it all at once.

The silence lulls you into a false sense of security. You linger for too long, stuck contemplating your options. Coyotes yip in distant packs, their barks carrying across the plains. You shiver at the sound. It reminds you again that you’re on your own now. No husband to come chasing after you if things get sticky.

Your first few steps away from the cabin are tentative, gliding your legs through the grass and staring up at the cornsilk moon. A combination of indulgence and bewilderment. If you knew the right way home, you wouldn’t waver, but these days, you have no faith in your instincts. They’ve only ever led you off course.

The gelding that Graves rode in on sits in the grass with its hind legs folded underneath it. With its legs still hobbled, you know removing the leather will take more time than you'd like, but you figure it'll be easier to make your way across the plains on horseback, with the added bonus of leaving Graves stranded. If God were just, he’d starve out here and leave his corpse for the coyotes to feast on.

You approach the horse cautiously, conscious not to make any sudden movements. Its ears angle towards you as you draw near. Attentive to your presence.

“Hey there, honey,” you whisper, reaching out a hand and trying to show that you aren’t a threat. Its nose twitches.

Another step forward. Easy does it. One leg in front of the other.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” You try to mirror your memory of John in your voice, honeysuckle soft words.

You aren’t John though. Not even close. You take another step towards it.

It brays when you get too close, skittish. The sound pierces through the night, louder than the coyotes in the distance. Louder even than the creaking door.

The hair on the back of your neck raises, lips numb. Then the prickling awareness of movement in the house, like an itch on a phantom limb.

Behind you, the door to the cabin bursts open with a bang, slamming off the wall and ricocheting back. You whip your head around to look only to find Graves’ towering form under the shadow of the doorway, his hair mused and clothes askew. And he looks enraged.

“Hey!” Graves bellows from the doorway, breaking into a run towards you. “Get back here!”

There’s no time to sit with the regret, no time to bemoan the fact that you didn’t exercise enough caution, that for some reason without a gun leveled at your head, you allowed yourself to forget the very real danger this man posed to you.

All you can do is run.

The grass whistles around you. You run so hard that your lungs burn, your arms pumping furiously beside you, dress swishing between your legs. You don’t have to look behind you to know that Graves is gaining on you. His body is built for pursuit. Still, you push yourself past your breaking point, not stopping even when you taste blood in your mouth. Mindless; directionless. No idea where you’re going—just away from him. You’d jump off a cliff if you came across one.

He’s close enough for you to hear now, heavy breathing right behind you. But by then it’s too late. A heavy body rams into you, sending you careening towards the earth, the ground rushing up to meet you halfway. The dirt hardly cushions the blow.

You hit the ground hard. Head knocked loose of thought, agony ripping across your face. The double blow of a body heavier than yours forcing you into the dirt, so solid that it crushes the breath from your lungs.

Blood leaks from your lip, most likely split. When you breathe in to fill your lungs, you taste dirt and rust and earth.

“Insufferable bitch,” Graves snarls, putrid breath wafting under your nose and making your eyes water. He grabs a handful of your hair and wrenches your head up before slamming it back down. Something crunches. Distantly, you wonder if your nose is broken.

Your ears ring, the rest of his words drowned out by the blood rushing to your face.

“Please—” you beg, blood dripping from your split lip.

“Knew I shouldn’ta trusted you—conniving little cunt—c’mere now, get up—”

He rises to his feet over your body, big hand curling around your wrist. You hear your shoulder pop when he yanks your arm behind your back. A rush of cold. A sweat breaks on the nape of your neck. Shock sets in the moment after, adrenaline flooding your body.

Then a sharp, focused surge of pain. It radiates from your shoulder outward, so intense that you can’t believe it at first. Your whole world reduces down to it. Feathering out down your back; irradiating waves of it. Thoughts scattering and then coming back together around the pain. If you scream, it comes out unbidden.

“Ah, hell, I didn’t mean to do that,” he grumbles from behind you, likely staring at the unnatural jut of your shoulder. “Alright, sugar, one second—I’ll pop that back in.”

“Nononono—” you gasp, panic lancing through you, but he pays no attention to your words.

The pain of popping your shoulder back in is excruciating. Relief follows shortly after, but the time between dislocating and relocating your shoulder is so short that it hardly comes as a balm to the pain.

“You…bastard…” you gasp.

“Wouldn’ta had to do that if you hadn’t run,” he sighs, the sight of your pain subduing his rage.

It doesn’t stop him from grabbing you roughly by the arm he just dislocated when he finally gets you on your feet though, steering you back towards the house. The pain that radiates up your arm is almost blinding.

He drags you back to the cabin with a punishing grip. There’s no sympathy when you stumble. Moonlight illuminates the path back to the cabin and shows you the trenches in the wild grass made by your feet. Hardly more than a couple rods.

The defeat that courses through you upon being dragged through the ramshackle front door is ten times that of earlier. When he lets go of your arm, you collapse in a heap on the floor, aching and sweating. A bag of bones and blood. You’d rattle if someone shook you.

“I hate you,” you mumble from your spot on the floor, shaking through the pain. “Rot in hell.”

Graves doesn’t respond, but you can almost hear the way he grins.

No rest for the wicked or the good this time. Graves wakes intermittently throughout the night to check up on you, wary now that you’ve tried to run. Your regret is palpable. You should’ve waited. Bided your time. There won't be another chance now, not after you played your hand so soon.

The ache in your shoulder keeps you from finding sleep. Every time you get close to it, the pain radiates down your arm and it slips from your grasp, your hand closing around the empty space it leaves behind. Teeth grit, breathing through the pain. Loosening your jaw and panting because the pain overwhelms you when you so much as shift onto your side, the hard floor digging into your elbow.

Right on the edge of sleep, just as you're about to latch on, a boot catches you in the ribs, jostling you back into the realm of pain. You wheeze, breaking into a coughing fit.

“Get up,” a hoarse voice grunts above you, empty of sympathy. “We got places to be.”

He has the two of you back on the horse as soon as dawn breaks. Your escape attempt the night before must have spooked him, and you regret it now in the light of day because you know he won’t let you out of his sight again. The metal handcuffs digging into your wrists assures you of that.

There’s no time for breakfast or time to wash up. Graves makes it a point to be back on the road as fast as possible, repacking his bedroll and stuffing it back in the saddlebag before dragging you up with him.

The pain is a dull throb after sleeping most of the agony away. It comes back when you move too quickly though, which is hard to avoid on horseback when each gallop echoes through your sore bones and joints.

The arching sun immixes with the heavens above, rising higher as the hours pass. You ache for a hat; something to keep the heat of the sun off your head. On the horizon, the mountain ridge sits like a spine bursting out from the earth. It’s all wastelands and portents. Evil omens.

Your heart feels swollen and bruised, like something trampled under elk hooves.

“Cheer up,” Graves says, tipping your chin up when the sun reaches its peak around midday, the gesture making you so uncomfortable that you almost shudder out of your skin. Your face still throbs with pain. “You should be glad I didn’t jus’ shoot you.”

Your lips pull back, baring your teeth to nothing.

A shot rips through the air at that, his words commanding it into being. Your head instinctively ducks and even the horse under you staggers, spooked by the sound. Graves curses, tensing up behind you.

"What in the hell—"

You whip your head around to stare behind you, looking for the source of the gunfire. When you find it, your eyes widen.

#this is a long one because it's 2 chapters that i didn't feel like posting separately #but they're separated on ao3 if you wanna go read there #ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #john price/reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you

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melminli · 5 days ago

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Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, the club music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

850 notes · View notes

ichorai · 2 years ago

Text

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv fanfiction

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rowarn · 7 months ago

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shadow entity!ghost part: one | two | three

cw: angry!ghost, umm he hurts u )-:, but he feels bad so it's okay, a bit shorter than other parts

the mystery surrounding ghost was driving you insane. living with a primordial entity of unfathomable horrors was already a mindfuck but now you realized it could just...erase people from existence.

no one had asked about phillip, no one had shown up to seek you out since you were the last one to see him before he vanished. you even wandered into the bar he said he frequented -- and he seemed well known in. and...nothing. no one even brought up how he went home with you and never returned. no one asked about him.

it was unnerving. had ghost somehow pulled all memory of this one human out of the world along with its physical form? where did phillip even go? all you remember was being surrounded by the shadow and how hard it was to breathe -- and the horrible, inhuman scream before silence.

it had already confirmed that it wasn't a ghost. so what was it?

"ghost?" you called into the house as you returned from the bar, "can you come out so we can talk?"

as you stepped into the living room, you took a glance at the scorch mark on the floor before your attention was diverted to it -- a shadowy manifestation across from you.

it didn't speak, simply stood there. usually you would divert your eyes from its face because something about it unsettled you, but this time you stared right at it. shapes formed and faded before your eyes, making you wonder if you were really seeing them in the first place. eyes, sometimes two sometimes dozens. a vague, fading silhouette of a skull face. you wonder if it intentionally let you see these images or if it just was.

"i-i want to know..." you swallow thickly around the nervous lump in your throat, "is phillip dead?"

it was quiet for a moment, "not quite."

"what's that mean? where is he?" you prod, furrowing your brows as you stare at it, hoping that it can understand your pleading.

"why do you care?"

"b-because..." you sputtered, licking your dry lips, "i just...want to know."

"he's in the pits," it finally supplies, sounding almost bored.

"...of hell?" you sputter, "so you're a demon?"

"your hell is a bastardization of the pits," it explains, "where i come from is not hell. it's worse, darker. that's where i put the human."

"can you...can you bring him back..?" you whisper.

ghost's shadow flickers and it falls silent for a moment before speaking again, "i could. but you don't want that."

you can't help but think you'll regret asking but you do anyway, "...why?"

"he's not the same anymore," it explains, "it's much kinder to simply leave him in the pits."

you're not sure how to take that. it doesn't answer any of your questions. what exactly are the pits? what happens in them? what is happening to phillip down there?

"ghost..." you take a small step back and you swear you see it's head cock to the side curiously, "what are you?"

"you can consider me a demon if you wish," it responded, taking a step forward to follow you.

your heart skips a beat, "but you're not."

"no," it answers with ease.

"so tell me what you are," you demand, growing tired of these mind games it's playing with you.

"i don't think your human mind can comprehend just what i am," it says.

"try me," you challenge, already mentally slapping yourself.

"no," it responds.

your temper flares, "just tell me, damn you! what the hell are you?"

suddenly, the shadow grows in size -- as do your eyes. you watch as it takes up more space in the room, that overpowering weight on your body making you wince. it makes the room feel so heavy, makes your bones ache to the marrow.

you're not sure how you know -- despite the fact it's not saying anything; you know you've made it very angry. your eyes lock onto his shadowy form, making out the horrible, unsettling images of eyeballs inside the darkness that flicker in and out of your vision.

nausea settles like a pit in your stomach and you double over, dropping to your hands and your knees to keep yourself from throwing up. your head throbs and aches, a ringing in your ears only makes the pain worse. it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the overwhelming pressure growing inside your skull.

"s-stop..." you manage to choke out before you slump against the floor.

then, all at once it's gone. you gasp for air once it finally feels like there's nothing coiling around your lungs and tears trickle down your cheeks. you're not sure if you're trembling from the pain or from the fear you just experienced.

you can't bring yourself to uncurl yourself from the ball you've found yourself in on the floor.

you're acutely aware that ghost hasn't left -- in fact, you can hear it's heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor as it approaches you. it kneels down, disturbing the air around you with the movement.

you feel a strange weight on your head and it takes your foggy mind a moment to realize that it's touching you. as if it had reached a hand out and was tenderly petting your head, consoling you.

a silent apology before it vanishes completely.

when you finally uncurl and look around, you see yet another strange, scorch mark on the ground where it had stood.

you realize instantly that those scorch marks are a manifestation of it's anger. pure, unbridled rage that leaves a physical mark on the ground where it stands.

you swallow thickly and close your eyes again, deciding that standing is much too hard for now.

do not repost to third party sites. reblogs okay!

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader

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seiwas · 6 days ago

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new year superstitions (or some shit) | bakugo katsuki

wc: 1.4k

summary: bakugo's never believed in timing things for luck (or: affection is hard, but bakugo thinks it's about damn time he tries harder)

contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, aged up!pro-hero bakugo (mid-twenties), reader is described as pretty, vaguely alludes to reader's quirk, established relationship, fluff.

you slip into bakugo's space just a few minutes shy of touching the new year.

everywhere around you is loud, lively in the way new year's eve parties go; a group of people down the street stand outside of a bar, waving their streamers and blowing on small trumpets to welcome the next hour. from a distance, fireworks are shooting up to the sky, right above some luxury hotel having its annual countdown.

it's neither bakugo's thing nor yours to be up this late, partaking in celebrations like this, but he supposes some things are worth experiencing at least once—

the scent of your perfume hits him before he sees you, the space around him tightening in that familiar way the air around you shifts when you hold your breath. you smile, a small, gentle lift of your lips that falls into pace with your blink. pretty.

warmth pools in his stomach, building slowly to crawl its way up his neck and over his ears, overflowing to dust his cheeks.

"thought you looked a little lonely over here," you mumble, stifling your giggle as you watch him turn pink.

he furrows his brows, a soft "tsk," escaping his lips out of habit as his head turns to you. you always tease him like this; he should be getting used to it by now.

a gust of wind picks up from your spot on the balcony, pushing the glass door shut. the noise from inside muffles to dull chatter, the beat of tonight's music recognizable only by the subtle vibrations on the metal railing resting against his back.

the winter breeze seems to have tapped you, too, as you tuck your chin deeper into the red scarf around your neck.

"y'should've stayed inside," he nods to you then to the balcony door, crossing his arms, "s'cold here."

you frown, inching closer, just enough that you could loop your arm with his if you wanted, "sometimes, i can't tell if you're bad at taking hints or just really good at ignoring them."

he eyes you from the side, red vermillion the shade of your scarf—the one he gifted you just a few days ago for christmas. you pout, loosening the fabric around your neck so he can hear you clearly.

"you know," you take in a shaky breath, "this is the f-first time we're at s-something like this as y-y'know…” you pause, glancing at him to gauge his reaction, “t-together."

his nose turns a shade of pink darker; it's true, and he can hear you clearly—every tremor, every shiver. he sees you pretty clearly too, the softest hint of red on your lips. this relationship with you is new, just a little over a couple of months, and it makes him think—

"k-katsuki, are you e-even—"

it's reflex when he does it―his hand shooting out to grip your elbow, pulling you closer into his parka. right where you were standing lands a small clump of snow, fallen from the balcony of the unit above.

you look up almost immediately, a little flustered.

"s-sorry―"

bakugo feels warm despite the cold, heat blazing across his entire face as little puffs of air tickle his neck when you speak. like he said, this relationship with you is new, and though he's held you a few times already, affection, in any capacity is still something he's getting used to.

and you're aware of that too; of course you are. but when you push yourself away to create some space―

"told you s'fuckin cold."

―he keeps his other hand on your back, holding you into place.

bakugo is intense in most aspects; he meets things headfirst with no hesitation, but being this close to you makes him feel weird, a kind of unusual he thinks he should approach with caution―as if to keep himself from ruining the moment.

so his eyes wander. down the street, on the view behind you; they focus on the wisps of your hair ruffled from the earlier breeze, the tips of your eyelashes, blinking. then slowly and carefully, they land on you.

and you―

you beam, eyes widening momentarily before flashing him the brightest smile. it stills him so much that he doesn't notice your hands loosening the scarf around your neck even more, unwinding the fabric until the lengthened ends sit on your palms.

it's when you say "okay," gently and so... so... sweetly, that he feels the softness of wool hit the tips of his ears and down his neck. an ache spreads throughout his chest as he locks eyes with yours, tongue pushing against the roof of his mouth for another tsk―but you beat him to it, your finger coming up to press against his lips.

"s'cold," you giggle, a hint of teasing.

he narrows his gaze, about to retort when you both hear muffled shouts from inside the party, "ten... nine... eight..."

the group of friends down the street seem to be in on it too, echoes in unison, shouting, "seven... six... five... four..."

and from afar, right where the hotel is situated, are the numbers "three... two... one..." lit up on the sky.

you tug on bakugo's parka to draw his attention; the expression on your face is something he can't quite decipher―winter on your cheeks and your lower lip pulled between your teeth. the air around him tightens again, evidenced by the way you suck in a breath.

then, it happens all too fast―the way you tiptoe up just that little bit; your fingertips stamping chills down the edges of his scarred cheek. you kiss bakugo right as the new year strikes and the moment happens too quickly for him to notice.

"happy new year, katsuki," you whisper, close enough that it tickles his chin. it must have been a small peck, it must have been. he can only assume as he blinks it back to memory.

you've kissed before―three times to be exact, four counting this one. and he's not opposed to it (what kind of idiot would be?); in full truth, he fucking loves it.

but, affection is hard, and fuck, it's always been you initiating it―

"sorry, too much?" you mumble sheepishly, pressing your lips together, "just figured since it's the new year and all..."

―which is even more fucked by the fact that you feel the need to apologize for it.

he stares at you, bewildered out of his fucking mind that he still hasn't grown the damn balls to kiss you himself.

so, to hell with new year superstitions, he thinks; bakugo's never believed in playing to luck and chance in the first place. he'll kiss you right now because he wants to―

because it's what he's been wanting to do since the start of tonight, since yesterday, since a week ago; since you kissed him the very first time and all he could do was stand there, trying to act like the very feel of his lips pressed against yours didn't make his mind howitzer impact right in that moment.

―it just so happens that it's the new year, and it's about damn time he grows the balls to initiate it for once.

his hand reaches for your cheek before you can take a step back, fingers slotting themselves by your ear and resting against the edge of your jaw. your eyebrows shoot up, the look in your eyes something between confused and surprised. his thumb slides itself across your cheek before swiping down to touch the edge of your lips, feeling.

there's a dull warmth beneath the pads of his fingertips, heating up when he leans in. the air tightens; breath on hold as his nose bumps into your skin, and it's faint, the slightest touch of your lips against his. your eyes fall shut before his do, and he shivers, a slight tremble as he deepens the kiss.

he starts out slowly, uncertain, moving his lips tentatively. it's a push and pull―soft, quick pecks sandwiched between longer, drawn out touching. it almost feels like this moment's been suspended amidst all the noise, lips locked and gliding, lingering; he swears he can feel you grinning.

your fingers grip the fabric of his parka and tug, and he sees it as a signal to be rougher, taking your bottom lip between his and slightly biting. you squeak the tiniest bit, but it's enough to make him pull away completely, eyes wide as his thumb presses against your chin.

"fuck," he whispers, catching his breath as he tugs just enough that he can see the inside of your lower lip, "did i hurt you?"

he's squinting, brows furrowed while looking for any sign of blood when you shake your head, stopping him. his gaze shifts to take you in―your glossy lips, slick with spit; your eyes, completely blown but somehow still twinkling, and when you giggle, he almost finds it cruel you have to look so fucking pretty.

"it's just your canines," you smile, "i like them."

fuck, he really should've done this sooner.

a/n: this ended up way longer than i planned woops! haven't written bakugo in a while but i miss the guy!! and i wanted to write him so terribly flustered and bad at affection but being so frustrated because he wants to try!!! and he should be better than this!! anyway! i had this idea around christmas time but couldn't write it in time for the new year because i got sick. so it's a little late, but i hope you enjoy!

i'm not sure if you remember my dear willow @willossom, but you sent me a request a good while back for one of my events with the prompt: saying "i love you" in all the ways you aren't used to for bakugo, and this reminded me loads of it!! 🥺 though this isn't the written request for that one yet (i have something else planned for it), i just wanted to let you know that i thought of you while writing this!!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #katsu #shotorus.writes #shotorus.workbook #also bc i was scratching my head writing this for him Habfshbh i am RUSTY hELP

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sooniebby · 1 year ago

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Restraining.. but it’s the guys weight holding you down.. bonus if he’s your sister’s ex boyfriend ;) bottom male reader, reader is mentioned to have a cock. Spanking, feminization, and light degradation. (Adding dub con just to be safe but reader consents to everything)

Smut idea where reader ends up getting fucked by his sister’s ex boyfriend and finds out he likes bigger and older men :3

After your sister, Karina,’s break up with her boyfriend, she’s been a bit of a mess. Even though she was the one who initiated the breakup. She never told you why but she certainly told you what she’d miss from her ex.

His smile, his hair, his hands, and his big co—

Yeah, it was getting annoying. You were honestly glad. You didn’t like the guy. Some bad boy wannabe wearing leather jackets and riding a motorcycle. He was.. like in his mid 20s! Too old to be a bad boy! You were at least glad you’d never see him again

But that wasn’t true when you ended up seeing him in your home… the day you were trying on a pair of shorts Karina got you.. the shorts were way too short for you—your ass cheek was basically popping out and you couldn’t even wear underwear with it.

And now here you were, gripping your bedsheets tightly with the shorts around your legs as you bit down on your lip. A constant force pushing up toward the headboard as he fucked you like an animal.

You could’ve said no. And really, you were about to.. but damn, he was kinda hot. Tall, lean, and tanned skin. Jet black hair.. why did Karina break up with him..? Personality maybe?

Fuck a personality right now though…

Anyway, while you lose your virginity to your sister’s ex boyfriend, all you could do was whimper and whine. You tried moving but his body was pressed down onto you, forcing you to take whatever he gave you

And what he gave you was harsh deep thrusts. Easily reaching your bundle of nerves and earning muffled screams from your lips. You shifted underneath him at each graze of your prostate but was only met with a swift spank to your ass.

He didn’t even say much for you to drop your shorts. A simple raised eyebrow and a smirk got you wet. Which is… very virgin like but at least you’re not a virgin now :)

You didn’t even think about how weird it was that this guy, who was about eight years older than you and dated Karina for almost two years was fucking you without any sense of guilt.

But fuck… your sister was right. He did have a huge cock.. but suddenly you thought about your sister getting fucked by this guy and now you felt disgusted. You tried to move again but was met with another harsh spank and him pushing you even deeper onto the bed

It looked like you weren’t leaving anytime soon. And embarrassing enough, you took it. Future you would deal with the guilt of fucking Karina’s ex.. present you would enjoy your first ever dick

“You do this for everyone?”

Oh. He can talk? You only mewled as his thrusts seemed to only get quicker, the sounds of skin slapping filling your room.

“Dressing in these type of shorts,” he tugged at the shorts around your legs. “How many did you seduce with these?”

You could only try to ignore him and just enjoy the feeling of getting fucked but he grabbed your hair and pulled. A cry left your lips as you glanced at him, a faint smirk on his lips.

“You’ve always been cute.. glad to know your pussy is tighter than Karina’s”

You couldn’t help but mewl at his words, your tight heat tightening around his cock. His smirk only grew—his eyes staring knowingly into yours.

He’s got you now.

You came soon after that in embarrassment. How could that even make you cum? But he loved it. His past thrusts were fast but it felt absent.. now, he was fucking you like he was wanting to breed you.

Your lips were continuously open, loud and unabashed screams left your lips. Each thrust caused your body to push forward violently.

“Look at you… taking me well for your first time. Y’know.. I think I know why some people love fucking virgins.”

His thrusts slowed down, earning a whine from you. He was slow and methodical which was good at first but randomly, he slammed into you, earning a cry in pleasure from you.

“Not for the innocence… but for showing someone new how good it is to be fucked. And the discovery of themselves.”

He slammed into you again.

“I think I don’t want this to be a one time thing. This pussy’s too good to give up.” He gave a soft squeeze to your ass.

“…’s not a pussy…” you slurred out, practically cock drunk at this point.

He only grinned. His thrusts were slow as he brushed against your prostate before stopping right there as he painted your insides. You gasped in disbelief, feeling the warm liquid.

He pulled out and got off from on top of you. You continued to stay on the bed—just hoping he’d leave now so you could sleep in shame for sleeping with Karina’s ex.

But you heard the sound of a camera going off. With the last bit of energy you had, you turned yourself around to look at him as he smirked at his phone.

He turned the phone to you, showing you the picture he took. Your bare ass as cum dripped out of your fucked out hole. Luckily you were face wasn’t in the picture but if someone had been in your room, they could tell it was your bedroom based on the posters you could see in the background

“Safe keeping. I had to delete Karina’s nudes… so I need some new material. You’ll be giving me more, yeah?”

You could only stare at him dumbly as he grabbed his shoes and slipped them back on. He grabbed his jacket and looked back at you. You could feel his eyes roaming your body before looking down at your hole that was still leaking with cum.

A twisted smirk was on his lips at the sight. You blushed in embarrassment and looked away.

“It’ll be fun helping you learn about yourself more… I’ll see you soon. Wear those shorts again, alright?”

With that—he was gone. But the only thing on your mind right now was…

Why was he even here in the first place?

And uh.. more importantly—what was he going to do with that picture?

I’ve always liked the idea of sister exbf but only if the bf is older and a bit mean, but I certainly think I can make him meaner for next time.. how do you guys like him?

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life69 @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @nakedtoasterr @ofclyde @smellwell @tomoeroi @kaedezu @loivre @millecka @iwishtobeacrow

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #oc x reader #smut drabble #smut ideas #mlm nsft #mlm ns/fw #smut prompts

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ot8xbangchansgirlsblog · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! I just saw you’re taking requests and I’m so excited!

I have two ideas if you’re feeling them both ot8 x reader of course!

1. Is reader moving in with the boys , I think it would be real cute

2. The reader finding out she’s pregnant and then having to tell the boys

𝕆𝕙 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪!

Warning: comfort/fluff

Summary: Request!

A/N: This was kind of rushed so i'm going to turn it into a mini series because i really do have a-lot to add when it comes to everything that has to do with their relationships, the baby itself and Y/n. If you would like to be added to this separate taglist comment down below!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Baby, your tummy feels weird,” I.N said, a frown knitting his brows together as he tilted his head slightly to look up at her.

They were cuddled together on the couch, enjoying a lazy day at home. I.N’s head rested on Y/N’s lap while she absentmindedly stroked the back of his head, something he always adored. But today, he didn’t seem quite right.

“What do you mean, love?” Y/N giggled, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his frown, hoping to erase it.

“I don’t know… it just feels hard and strange,” he replied, poking at her abdomen gently, causing her to flinch.

“Baby, stop that!” she laughed, swatting his finger away playfully.

“Seriously! It’s so hard and not squishy like it usually is,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with concern. “Are you on your period?”

“No, my love, not yet. Maybe it’s just because I’ve eaten too much?” she suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

“Hmm, maybe,” he agreed, resting his head back on her lap. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies, snuggled under a cozy blanket. But when Chan called, asking if they could pick up some groceries for dinner, they reluctantly decided to get dressed and head out.

“I like having you home,” Y/N said, intertwining their fingers as they walked to the store.

“I like being home with you,” I.N replied, planting a gentle kiss on her temple. The walk was short, but Y/N felt every step weighing her down.

“Are you okay?” I.N chuckled, noticing her panting slightly as they reached the store. “You look a little out of breath.”

“Yes, just a bit winded! Damn, how long has it been since we walked to the store?” she gasped for air, trying to play it off.

“We were just here last week for shampoo, babe,” I.N teased, a grin spreading across his face.

“Oh my God, maybe I’m just getting fat because that felt like a workout,” she sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. I.N laughed softly and grabbed the shopping basket like the gentleman he was, following her as she picked out everything they needed—and a few treats for Felix’s baking cabinet.

Once they got home and put away the groceries, Y/N flopped onto the couch. “Can we take a nap?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled against the cushions.

“Babe, we just woke up from one!” I.N said, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“I know, but I still feel really tired. That was a workout, and my back aches,” she huffed, stretching out on the couch.

“Your back aches?” His tone shifted from playful to worried in an instant. “How bad is it?”

“Just a little bit. It’s nothing serious,” she reassured him with a pout, pulling him toward his room. “Cuddle me, please.”

“Alright, but let me grab some cream for your back first. Remove your shirt,” he instructed, and she nodded, slipping off her shirt and lying down comfortably.

When I.N returned with the cream, he lay beside her, his warm hands gently starting to massage the area where her back ached. She let out soft whimpers of relief, her eyes fluttering shut as he worked his magic.

“Is that better?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Mmm, much better,” she sighed contentedly, feeling her body relax beneath his touch. Before long, she succumbed to sleep, her breathing steady and peaceful. Satisfied, I.N tidied up the room and put everything away, glancing back at her with a smile before heading downstairs to await the others.

When the boys finally made it home, the sound of laughter filled the air. Chan peeked into I.N's room, raising an eyebrow when he saw Y/N still asleep, a content smile on her face.

“Did you take good care of her?” Chan asked, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Yeah, she took another nap. She said she was tired,” I.N replied casually as he flipped through the channels on the TV.

“Tired again?” Leeknow asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yeah, we went to the store, and she said her back ached, so I gave her a massage and put her to sleep,” I.N explained, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Maybe her period is about to come. I’ll check the app later,” Leeknow suggested. He leaned in to give I.N a quick kiss before heading up to his room, making sure to check in on Y/N before disappearing to take a shower.

“How was your day, guys?” I.N asked as the rest of the boys slowly started to filter into the room.

“Missed you,” Han said automatically, crawling onto I.N’s lap and snuggling in without a second thought.

“I missed you too, baby,” I.N replied with a smile, wrapping his arms around Han.

“I’ll go check on Y/N,” Felix announced, hopping up and making his way to I.N’s room. Once inside, he climbed onto the bed, instantly cuddling up against her.

Y/N stirred slightly, opening her eyes to see Felix’s tousled blonde hair in her face. She let out a soft giggle before speaking. “Hey, bub,” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Hi, hi, hi!” Felix cheered, showering her with light kisses. Knowing how much he loved to be the little spoon, she turned and held him close.

“Missed you,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair.

“Missed you too,” he replied, wrapping his leg around her waist and burying his head against her chest. She let out a soft groan as his head nestled right on her sore breasts.

What the hell was going on with her body?

“You’re cuddly today,” she chuckled, continuing to play with his hair.

“You smell nice and feel soft,” he said dreamily, slowly drifting off to sleep. Y/N smiled, allowing him to relax, knowing how exhausting practice could be. She grabbed her phone, curious to check her flow app.

As she scrolled, her jaw dropped in shock. “Oh no…” she gasped, causing Felix to stir slightly but not wake up.

The app showed that she had missed her period. But how? She was always on top of tracking it!

Panic flooded her thoughts as she glanced at the time—it was still only 7 in the evening. She needed to get pregnancy tests. Quickly but quietly, she wiggled out of Felix’s grip and rushed downstairs.

“Woah, woah, woah! Hey there!” Hyunjin chuckled as she nearly knocked into him.

“Hey, bye!” she called over her shoulder, slipping her hand from his grip as she hurried to put on her slippers.

“Are we not getting a welcome home?” Chan yelled, but she was already out the door and in her car, heart racing.

The drive was short, but her mind was racing with negative thoughts. What if? Could she really be…? She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she parked.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out and headed into the store, her heart pounding in her chest. The fluorescent lights felt almost too bright, but she pushed through, grabbing a couple of pregnancy tests and making her way to the self-checkout.

“Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, scanning the items quickly and hoping no one was judging her for the sudden purchase. After paying, she hurried back to her car, clutching the small bag tightly.

As she drove home, every worst-case scenario flooded her mind. What if she was pregnant? How would the boys react? Would they be supportive? Or would they panic?

Pulling into the driveway, she took a moment to collect herself. She couldn’t let them see her like this, all frazzled and scared. She had to stay calm.

With a deep breath, she walked inside, trying to put on a brave face. As she entered the living room, she was met with the warm chaos of her boyfriends, laughter filling the air.

"Hey, everyone!" Y/N managed to say, forcing a smile as she stepped into the living room. She hoped they wouldn't pry too much about what was in the bag she clutched tightly to her chest.

"Hey, baby!" Leeknow greeted her, the warmth in his voice putting her at ease for a moment. "I'm going to start on dinner, okay?" He leaned in and gave her a quick, reassuring kiss before heading to the kitchen.

"Where did you run off too?" Hyunjin asked, not missing a beat as he continued playing video games with Changbin. His eyes flicked to her, curiosity evident in his gaze.

"I went to get some… pads," she lied, her heart racing. She felt like she was about to pass out from the weight of the truth.

"You could've just asked me to run to the store, babe," Chan chimed in, looking up from his phone. "At least we know you've been feeling down lately because of your period."

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied, her voice slightly shaky. "I'm going to go put some on, then I'll come say hi properly."

"Wake up Felix for me! I don't want him sleeping too much," Leeknow called from the kitchen.

"Alright!" she responded, her mind already racing as she dashed upstairs to her room. Once inside the bathroom, she locked the door behind her, hands trembling as she read the instructions on the pregnancy test.

With each step, her anxiety spiked. "What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself, burying her head in her hands. It felt like the walls were closing in, and tears threatened to spill as she watched the timer tick down agonizingly slow. When it finally went off, she felt like she wasn't ready at all.

"Just rip it off like a band-aid. Don't be scared, Y/N," she encouraged herself, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath and turned over one of the tests.

"Oh no, no, no…" she gasped, her heart plummeting as she checked the other two. They all said the same thing-positive.

That was it...it was official, she was carrying a baby.

After taking a cold shower to calm down, Y/N made her way to I.N's room to wake up Felix. He was deep in sleep, snoring softly, looking utterly peaceful.

"Baby, you have to wash up and come down for dinner," she said gently, brushing her fingers through his hair. He groaned in response and rubbed his eyes, reluctantly stirring.

Once he was up, they went their opposite ways: Y/N heading downstairs to join the rest of the boys, who were chattering and playing games. She tiptoed over to Han, who was engrossed in his phone. Leaning down, she showered him with soft kisses until his cheeks flushed a deep tomato red.

"Okay, moving on!" she giggled, moving to the next person. She made sure to repeat this with all the boys, leaving a trail of smiles in her wake, before finally settling down next to Chan, who was the only one available.

"Did you have a good day today?" Chan asked, rubbing her back lightly. "Any cramps?"

"Um, no… I just stayed with Innie the whole day, watching movies. What about you?" She felt a wave of uncertainty wash over her-was this the right time to tell them?

“Oh, you know, the usual,” he replied, rolling his eyes playfully. She decided to give him a quick massage on his shoulder as they waited for Leeknow to finish dinner.

A few minutes later, Felix came bounding down the stairs, a bag in hand. Y/N’s eyes widened in panic as she shot up from her seat. No way he found them!

“Y/Nnie!” Felix squealed, his voice piercing through the room. Everyone turned to look at him, curiosity written on their faces.

“Y/Nnie, you’re pregnant?!” Felix practically shouted, his excitement making everyone’s jaws drop.

“What is he talking about?” Chan asked, looking at her with wide eyes. Y/N was in shock, quickly snatching the bag out of Felix's hand.

“Felix, how many times do I have to tell you not to go through my stuff?” she snapped, her heart racing.

“I was just grabbing my moisturizer from your bathroom…” he said, taking a step back, frowning.

“Wait, hold on. Why are you getting mad at him?” Changbin stood up, his brows furrowing. “Are you pregnant?”

I.N grabbed the bag from her, ripping it open to pull out the pregnancy tests. “Holy shit… s-she’s actually pregnant…” His eyes widened in disbelief as he lost his balance, falling back into his seat, while Chan snatched the tests from his hands.

"You didn't tell us?" Chan looked at her, disappointment etched on his face.

"I took three tests, and they all say the same thing," she replied, feeling tears welling up again. "I don't know what to do!"

Chan immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a comforting embrace.

"What's all the commotion?" Leeknow asked, walking into the room, a knife in hand.

"Y/N's pregnant," Seungmin repeated, almost in disbelief.

"What? I thought… wait, hold on…" Leeknow huffed, scanning the room for a seat as if he needed to process this news.

"I-I… I'm sorry, okay? I just took the test. I was going to tell you guys."

"When?" Han pouted, crossing his arms.

"I don't know! I freaked out! This is a lot, okay?" she huffed, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Is that why you ran out of the house?" Hyunjin asked, and she nodded, looking away.

"Holy shi- a baby? A whole baby…" Chan gasped, glancing around the room as if the walls were closing in on them.

"Is that why your stomach feels weird noona?" I.N asked looking at her curiously.

"That's probably one of the reasons yeah," she replied.

"Wah.." he gasped looking amazed. He knew something was off earlier on. He had felt it.

"I never knew it would be this soon," Seungmin said. He was honestly confused and didn't know how to feel about the situation. He just felt bad for her because she was probably scared shitless.

"okay.." Leeknow finally spoke, "we need to have a conversation about condoms and how to use them because obviously one of you slipped up," he rolled his eyes looking at the boys. They all laugh but try to hide it making it even more funnier.

Chan on the other hand looked stressed as fuck.

"Chan say something please.." She begged looking at him.

"oh baby girl, i'm just in shock thats all," he sighed wiping away her stray tears. "I can… I can abort it—"

“NO!” they all shouted in unison, causing her to flinch.

“You actually want me to keep it?” It was her turn to sit down, the weight of the situation crashing over her. Was this actually happening?

“I mean… yeah?” Changbin shrugged. “I don’t mind it.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a kid running around,” Felix added, his face lighting up at the thought.

"That would actually be sick, imagine a baby coming with us on tour!" Hyunjin hyped up the situation even more.

"What if there twins?!" Seungmin claps his hands in excitement.

"or Quadtruplets?!" Han gasps.

"Those do run in my family," I.N says smirking.

Y/n couldnt help but smile at the fact that they where excited for this. It made her feel a little better now although she still wasn't sure about the whole situation.

"Plus, we're all financially stable to take care of one. I don't see why not," Han chimed in, nodding in agreement

"Okay, woah, woah, woah, guys. Let's slow down for a second and ask the person who's actually carrying the baby if they're okay with it," Chan said, raising his hands to calm the excitement.

Everyone's eyes landed on her, anticipation hanging thick in the air. Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. She really wasnt expecting this at all and although she felt like she wasnt ready, the way the boys looked at her with hope was the only answer she needed.

"Oh… I guess… let's have a baby? I just-what if I'm not ready for this? What if it changes everything?"

"Life is full of surprises," Chan said gently, kissing her forehead. "But we'll face whatever comes next together. You're strong, and we're all in this with you."

"I… I guess it's just a lot to take in," she admitted, wiping away a few more stray tears. "I wasn't expecting this."

"None of us were," Felix said, a small smile breaking through his breaking through his worry. "But we'll make it work. We're a family, right?"

"Right," Y/N replied, feeling a flicker of hope. "I just need some time to process it all.”

"Take all the time you need jagi," Hyunjin reassured her.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon! (Taglist open)

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nightingale-prompts · 4 months ago

Text

Saving Batboy

First | Previous | Next

It was as though he was being led through the city. Dick seemed to know exactly where he should go next as he drove.

Dick turned off his location as he closed in on Joker's location. If anyone had doubts about what would happen tonight they knew now. The clown dies tonight.

Batman never did it because he knew there would be no coming back once he crossed that line but he was not Batman.

Tim knew the moment Nightwing's symbol disappeared that he had found Joker's location. He knew he could track him still based on where he was before but he held off. The last time Dick crossed the line and killed the Joker, Tim was there to stop him. In the time since Tim had grown to regret it. Especially after Jason's return. He should be avenged after everything that happened.

Tim never put much thought into what happened when he was kidnapped just like Danny. Joker Jr was just a nightmare and everyone pretends it didn't happen. His past self doesn't exist to him and the gaps in his memory are better as they are.

If Dick was really going to finish this then Tim wasn't going to stop him. Bruce's code was his code alone. What of the Robins that suffer for it? What about his kids that he loves to the point of self-destruction if they die?

It was clear to Tim now. Batman isn't strong enough to kill Joker. If he can't handle it, someone else would.

Maybe Dick just cared more. Or maybe he had seen this happen too many times to sit by and let it happen again. The cost be damned.

Tim took a deep breath. He knew it was a bad move but he shut down the bat computer. No one could locate each other for the next 10 minutes. Enough time to give Dick the lead he really needs. All the comms are down and no information can be shared.

Tim looked up and saw Alfred putting down a cup of tea for him. Tim felt like a child caught doing something wrong under Alfred. But Alfred nodded wordlessly before turning to leave. He cast a forlorn glance at Jason's robin uniform before ascending the stairs.

****

"I was hoping Batman would come for the little bat. Oh sorry, I mean the boy." Joker mocked holding Danny by the back of the neck.

The teen's body was limp. His silver locks stained a rusty brown from dried blood. Blood covered his back and legs. If there had been any doubt if the wings were real there is none now.

"…" Nightwingwing said nothing. His fist clenched.

"You know I debated skinning him next. That fur of his would be a lovely shawl. It's so soft. But it looks like I won't have the time now." Joker provoked, running a hand through the boy's white neck fur.

"Get your hands off him." Nightwing demanded, his eyes locked on Danny for any signs of life.

"You know I am so curious what he was doing here. I was about to build a new trap here for fun when I stumbled upon this little guy here. Practically gift-wrapped. Did he run away from you? Just like you did from good ol'papa bat." Joker's smile widened sickeningly "This all feels so familiar, doesn't it little bird? Are you going to finish what you started?"

"I'm never letting you hurt my family again." No witty one-liners. No games. This bad joke ends today.

****

Batman had scoured the area. He memorize the last location Dick was before the system went down. He wasn't these kids' father for nothing he knew what they were doing.

When sound came back he had already made it to the abandoned factory. The comms rang back to life as the sounds of crying came through.

"Nononono…please no. Wake up. Please wake up." It was Dick's voice. "It's okay. I'm here now. So just wake up. We need to get home soon. Your favorite show will be on soon. WAKE UP! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Batman bolted to their location and found Dick hovering over Danny trying to resuscitate him.

His son looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I can't hear his heart. He's not breathing." He let out a shaky breath. As distressed tears ran down his cheeks.

Bruce knelt next to them. Danny didn't react to the pressure on his chest. The pain should have at least caused an involuntary jerk if he wasn't too far gone.

Bruce signaled Dick to move back as he checked Danny's pulse again. Nothing. And he wasn't breathing. Bruce looked at his son. Deep down Dick probably knew.

"I'm sorry. He's gone." Bruce said simply as he took off his cloak.

Danny looked so peaceful. Like he was sleeping soundly. Bruce hated that his own suspension had been the thing that had prevented him from having a relationship with his own grandson. He felt foolish to not realize that of course Danny and Batboy were the same. It was a brilliant disguise. But he'd never get to say this to the boy.

Bruce wrapped the boy in his cloak.

"Come on. We'll fix this." He told Dick, carrying Danny for him.

The journey back to the manor was silent until.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"Don't. Just Don't. He's my son. Its my fault." Dick rasped his voice scratchy from crying.

Bruce felt a bitter sting. That was exactly what he felt when he lost Jason and what happened with Tim. When Damian lost his life. These pains didn't go away.

When they arrived back in the Batcave Bruce laid Danny's body on the table. The others were notified about what happened and had already gathered.

Barbara looked like she had bawled her eyes out as she hugged Stephanie.

Damian had pressed himself close to Tim as the older brother told him that it was going to be okay.

The new hole in the wall was clearly Jason if his bloodied knuckles were any clues.

Cassandra paced the floor deep in thought. She was moments away from starting a new crusade.

Duke stared off into the distance. His anger boiling under the surface. All he could think about was the number of lives ruined by the Joker and even in death he took another.

Dick stood still as a statue. Thinking about if Danny could be brought back and even if he was his wings were gone. What if he was gone for good? Could he live like that?

Never had he understood Bruce more than in that moment.

Bruce braced himself for what would come next. He had a plan to bring Danny back at any cost.

But suddenly a sound broke through the tension.

A sneeze.

A fucking sneeze.

It came up from under the cloak.

Everyone snapped to look at the body hidden under the cloak. It shifted under the heavy black blanket groggily and yawned. Then Danny jumped up twisting to feel his back.

"What happened!!" He yelped.

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #nightwing #dick grayson #dc comics #bruce wayne

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bratscave · 4 months ago

Text

ᯓᡣ𐭩 IN ANOTHER LIFE !

summary. falling in love with a old! driver, who's name was james while you were still in college was one thing — but finding out that he was wolverine after his death and meeting another version of him, was another.

includes/warnings. lots of flashbacks (sex heavely implied!!), let's just pretend he was an uber driver or smth cause miss college princess had no money for a limousine for sure :/, there will be chpt 2 dw!!

You remembered that first time like it was yesterday. It had been raining, one of those cold, relentless downpours that drenched you the moment you stepped outside. It had been your first day back at physical collage after all the online classes, all nervous, fumbling with your phone as you waited for the car to pull up.

He was intimidating, didn't utter a single thing, you quickly learned he wasn't a big fan of small talk. You had tried to make conversation, anything to fill the suffocating silence. You’d rambled on about the rain, about how much you hated storms, but Logan had only grunted in response, his gaze fixed firmly on the road. You’d thought that was his way of telling you to shut up, and for a while, you had.

But silence had always been uncomfortable to you, so you continued talking, about school, your shitty new teachers, your weekend plans. Anything that crossed your mind, really.

He had pretty hands, veiny n' all. That's what you thought when you first saw them, inappropriate thoughts to have about a man who was so much older then you. But back then, you weren't actually planning on doing anything about that small attraction.

It had been a particularly bad day — the kind where nothing seemed to go right, where you felt like the universe itself had a problem with you specifically and decided to make your life hell. You had barely held it together as you climbed into Logan’s car, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the door.

And for the first time in months, the car was quiet.

But you remembered the way he drove slower than usual, the way his eyes had softened every time they flicked to the rearview mirror. When he pulled up in front of your apartment, he had turned to face you for the first time, his voice low and gravelly: “It’s just a test, bub. You’ll be alright.”

You had always asked yourself weather he listened to your ramblings or not, the fact that he remembered that you had an exam that day, clearly proved one of your points.

It was such a simple thing to say. And if any other person would've said it, you would've given them attitude because nothing had been going alright that day and you were sure you had failed the damn thing.

But when he said it, you believed him.

“When does your shift end?”

Logan didn’t respond at first, his brow furrowing as he kept his eyes on the road. For a moment, you thought he hadn’t heard you, or maybe he was just ignoring you like he usually did when he didn’t want to answer a question.

But then, he glanced at you again, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Why?”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you pushed through, your voice softer this time. “I know a place. Quiet. You might actually like it."

For a second, you thought he was going to say no — that he was going to shut this down before it even started.

But then, he muttered a rough, “Sure,” and the air in the car shifted.

The tiny ramen shop was a street down your apartment complex, the prices were afforadable, for your college-spent wallet to afford, at least.

The familiar bell over the door chimed, and the owner — a small, elderly woman. She had made a lighthearted comment about 'you finally getting a man' and you were sure you had seen logan fight a grin.

You glanced at Logan as he sat across from you, his gaze sweeping over the modest interior. His lips quirked, just a little, at the sight of the place, like he found it amusing in a way you couldn’t quite place. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, you forgot what you were going to say.

But you'd quickly gather yourself, a chuckle escaping you at his antics, "Don't give me that look. You'll like it."

You didn't talk a lot, for the first time around him, you didn't feel the need to.

When the bill came, you reached for it, but Logan’s hand shot out, his fingers brushing against yours. The brief contact sent a jolt through you, your breath catching as you looked up at him.

“I’m paying,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

You shook your head, determined. “No. I invited you. I’m paying.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you thought he was going to argue. But instead, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re being ridiculous.’

“I’m not letting you pay.”

“Well, tough shit. I’m paying,” you shot back, pulling the bill toward you and slapping your card down on the table before he could react.

Logan let out a deep, frustrated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched, just for a second. “Stubborn as hell,” he muttered, shaking his head.

When you finally stepped outside, the cold air hit you harder this time, cutting through the warmth of the ramen still lingering in your stomach. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering slightly as you started walking back toward your apartment.

“I’ll walk you,” Logan said, his voice gruff as he fell into step beside you.

You shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “It’s literally down the street. I think I’ll survive.”

Logan didn’t respond. He just started walking down the street into the direction of the complex, his larger frame casting a long shadow over the pavement. You smiled though he didn't see it, in your humble opinion he was the stubborn one.

It took you all your courage to press out a, "Wanna come in?" after he walked you all they way to your door.

You had silently cursed yourself for not tidying up the space before wards, everything was just such a mess.

Shelves stacked with vinyl records lined one wall, your favorite albums mixed in with a few old books and random knick-knacks. Posters hung slightly crooked, tacked up without much care for symmetry, while polaroid pictures were scattered across the walls.

And then there were the plushies—so many plushies—bright pops of Sanrio characters peeking out from the corners of the couch, the bookshelves, even the bedroom beyond, where they seemed to be taking over your bed. A pink Cinnamoroll pillow lay tossed on the couch, its floppy ears slumping over the armrest like it was too tired to stay upright.

Logan’s eyes swept over everything, taking it in with a slow, deliberate gaze. You could see the corner of his mouth twitch again, that same almost-smile from the ramen shop, but this time it didn’t go away as quickly.

“You’ve got… a lot going on here,” he muttered, nodding toward the Sanrio plushies with a low grunt, but there was no judgment in his voice. Just something… curious.

You rolled your eyes, kicking your shoes off by the door. “I like cute stuff. Sue me.”

“Cute stuff,” he repeated, letting out a low, amused sound, but his eyes stayed on you, lingering just a little too long as you made your way to the couch.

He picked up one of the countless vinyls, carefully sorted next to a shelf, running his rough fingers over it. Something older from the 70s.

The next time you play that record, you'll think about how he kissed you on your coach a few minutes later. started of slow and tender, went all sloppy.

Maybe you’ll think about how he whispered your name, low and gravelly, like it was the only thing grounding him. Or the way his lips found your shoulder, kissing a line down your collarbone as he leaned you back against the cushions, his body hovering over yours, every inch of him pressing into you until you could barely think straight.

You’ll remember how his weight felt on top of you — solid, real.

“Christ,” he’d muttered against your throat, his breath hot, rough as he began moving. You highly doubted he believed in christianity or any religion at that, but the way he treated your body; felt like he was starting to believe in a new one, worshipping and all.

You had talked a lot that night, a few more hours, before you both fell asleep on same coach. It was the first time you heard multiple sentences beside just grunts and nods, from him.

If you only knew just how fast he'd leave you.

#.🎀⋆ logan! thoughts #logan howlett #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine angst #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett angst #wolverine fic #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #wolverine imagine

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ohbueckers · 4 months ago

Text

SUIT & TIE. all pressed up in black and white, and you’re dressed in that dress i like. love is swinging in the air tonight, let me show you a few things.

ONE-SHOT! pairing, paige bueckers x reader. notes, another request i got done in ample timing because i’ve been procrastinating the last two parts of what’s my name real bad LMFAOOO enjoy! @patscorner @thaatdigitaldiary thanks baes i needed an excuse to use this picture… warnings, sexual content.

you’re standing near the grand entrance of the gala, lingering behind as your parents moved effortlessly through the crowd, shaking hands and greeting guests. you’d been to many of these events for their business, and yet you always seemed to dissociate. you glance down at the dress you’re wearing—your girlfriend’s choice, of course. it fits you like a glove, the deep color standing out in a sea of black and white. paige had insisted on it, and you’d given in because the way she looks at you in it is worth every second of doubt you’d had when she first showed it to you.

but paige was late. again.

your dad walks up to you, a smug smirk on his face as he sinks his hands deeper into his pockets. “she’ll be here. follow us in,” it was like he could read your mind as he throws his head in one direction, which you figure is the main hall where the night is supposed to start. his arm extends, offering for you to take it, and after a brief pause, you do, rolling your eyes with a half-smile before threading your arm through his.

she had promised to be here after the nike event, swearing she’d make it before the night really started. you understood; between interviews, sponsorships, basketball commitments—she’s been pulled in every direction, and truthfully, you couldn’t be prouder of her. her fame had skyrocketed this past year, and it was safe to say she was booked and busy. in the world of paige bueckers, this all came with the territory.

but tonight, you need her here. it’s your parents’ night, the business gala they’ve been planning for months, and you were happy the location had aligned with her schedule. as much as you’ve gotten used to being the one waiting for paige, there’s something about this evening that’s different. maybe it’s the nerves of being around all these people, or maybe it’s the way you can’t stop checking your phone, hoping for an update.

the minutes crawl by slower than they should, your eyes flitting across the room, searching the crowd for a glimpse of white. as your fingers tap nervously against the side of your glass. the crowd blurs together—tuxedos, dresses, champagne flutes clinking—but no sign of her yet.

just as you think about actually socializing with other people, your demeanor probably giving uninterested to anyone who thought about it, the doors part, and she walks in, all legs and confidence as she shoots that smile at everyone. for a second, you think you’ve imagined her, that your mind has conjured her up to calm your nerves. but no. she’s here.

and she looks damn good.

your heart rate picks up as she clocks you from across the room, that familiar smirk pulling at her lips when she sees you staring. she knows the effect she has on you, on everyone, and she’s not shy about it.

when she finally reaches you, standing just close enough, her voice is low, intimate as she wraps her hand around your hip, and she says, “told you i’d make it, didn’t i?” paige has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. always.

you swallow, glancing at her shoes—a pair of nike’s that she’d probably worn for the shoot. of course, she’d forget to change them after the event. “you were so close to pulling this off,” you tease, nodding toward her feet. “really would’ve had me if you ditched the kicks.”

she glances down, a mock look of realization spreading across her face. “ahh, i knew i was missin’ somethin’. but honestly? i think they make the fit.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile spreading across your lips. “only you would wear sneakers to a business gala.”

she leans in, smirking smugly, her breath warm against your ear as she murmurs, “and only you could make me wanna skip this whole thing.”

your stomach flips, heat rising in your face at the way her voice drops to a dangerous level. her fingers are still gripping your waist like her life depends on it, just a subtle touch, but enough. you should be mingling, keeping up appearances for your parents, but right now? all you can think about is the way paige is looking at you, like she’s already undressing you with her eyes.

she pulls back, just enough to let her eyes trail over your dress—her dress. the one she picked out specifically because, in her words, “i know what looks good on you better than you do.”

she was right.

“you’re killin’ me, you know that?” she mutters, fingers tracing the delicate fabric of the material.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your best formal composure. “i could say the same about you. what’s with the tie?” your hand moves up instinctively, fingers brushing over it. it’s tucked neatly into her white vest, and you’re well-aware of how comfortable you both look right now.

paige’s grin is slow, knowing. “you’ve never seen me like this before, huh?”

you shake your head, licking your lips as you take her in. “no. and i wasn’t prepared. when do those pics come out again?” you’re serious enough to want to commit this image to memory, knowing that the suit, the tie, the whole ensemble might be your new favorite thing.

before paige can respond, you spot movement out of the corner of your eye—your parents approaching. you practically leap out of each other’s arms, standing a little straighter as they stroll over. you felt like two kids in highschool getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to, despite being full-grown adults.

your dad gives a pointed glance between you and paige, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “well, isn’t this a sight?” he says with an undercurrent of teasing that only a parent could manage. “glad you could make it, paige.”

paige flashes her most polite smile, but there’s a faint blush creeping up her neck, spreading to her cheeks. “wouldn’t miss it,” she says, her voice softer and less full of the usual slang she’d use. she’s met your parents plenty of times before, but something about the way they’re looking at the two of you now, has her just a little shy.

your mom steps in, her own smile warm as she subtly nudges paige’s arm. “best behavior, okay?”

you watch paige turn a shade darker, chuckling as the confidence she walked in with slipped just slightly. she clears her throat, glancing down at her shoes before looking back up, all politeness. “of course. i’m on my best behavior.” who was she convincing?

you try to stifle a laugh at the sight of her—paige bueckers, who commands attention on the court and off, suddenly looking bashful under your parents’ orders. you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her like this, and honestly, it’s a little endearing.

your dad claps a hand on her shoulder, steering you both back to the crowd. “let’s get back to mingling. it’s almost time for the toast.”

the night continues, your parents dragging you from one conversation to the next, making you play the part of the dutiful daughter while paige keeps her distance, blending in with the crowd. well, almost. on her journey to becoming a household-known name, she had been stopped for pictures a few times. you catch glimpses of her every now and then, your eyes meeting across the ballroom, and each time, she gives you that same teasing look. you were glad she was here even if you couldn’t spend most of the night together.

then comes the toast, your father standing up to say a few words while the room quiets down, champagne glasses raised high. you’re only half paying attention, focus drifting back to paige like it had been the entire night, who’s already watching you from across the room. she doesn’t need to say anything, but the look she gives you is clear as day—a tilt of her head toward the hallway, her fingers brushing against her tie, sending a message that makes you wonder what her plan is.

meet me in the bathroom.

as your dad finishes up his speech, you wait a few seconds before you excuse yourself from the room, sure not to make anything look too suspicious, although your parents knew you and paige well-enough by now.

the noise of the gala fades as you move deeper into the hallway, the plush carpet beneath your heels muffling your steps. paige is waiting for you just outside the family bathroom, her back leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, but there’s nothing casual about the way she’s eyeing you up and down when she sees you approaching.

“you lookin’ real fine right now,” paige says, her voice low, a little rougher than usual. she brings her hands up, rubbing them together as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, smiling through it. “almost didn’t recognize you for a second.”

you smirk, stepping closer, as you swat her hands down, sick of those stupid rizz hands, although it always worked.. “oh, put it down!”

paige laughs, pushing off the wall and opening the bathroom door for you. “c’mon. lemme show you somethin’ real quick.”

you step inside without hesitation, the door clicking softly behind you, and in an instant, she’s on you. her hands grip your waist, pushing you back against the door, your ass a cushion against the hard surface. and before you can react, her lips crash against yours. it’s hungry, needy, because paige can quite frankly never get enough of you.

her body presses into yours, and you whimper into her mouth, manicured nails sliding around her neck, tugging her closer. “paige,” you murmur against her lips, but that only spurs her on.

she breaks away just enough to flash you a grin, her breath hot against your skin. “what? you don’t wanna?”

you laugh, the sound breathless as she moves her lips to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin in a way that makes your knees weak. “i didn’t think we’d be sneaking around at a gala,” you manage to say between gasps.

paige pulls back slightly again, her eyes locking onto yours, head slightly tilted down due to your height. “it’s not sneaking if they don’t catch us,” she reasons, and you suppose she’s right, but there was also no way you’d say no to her right now when she’s looking like that.

you smile, and her hands slide further around your waist. “c’mere.” she bites her lip, reaching for your wrist as she pulls you toward the sink, spinning you around so your back hits the counter. she hoists you up, and you don’t even have much time to process it before she’s on you again, lips finding yours as she slips her knee between your legs, parting them for her next move.

her hands begin gathering up the fabric of your dress, inch by inch. her fingers trail over your thighs, touch giving you goosebumps, and all you can do is breathe her in as she finally pushes it all the way up so it’s scrunched up at your hips.

she pulls away, lips pink and glossy. “you good?” she whispers.

you nod, barely able to speak as her hands explore you, fingers sliding slowly between your thighs, stroking your skin. “yeah.”

it’s all she needs, really. paige drops to her knees, maintaining eye contact as she positions herself between your legs. the sight of her down there should be framed. it has your pulse racing in all the right ways, and you can barely stand it.

she hooks her fingers around your panties, tugging them down like she’s done a million times before, because she has, and you stare at her with all the awe in the world as she pulls you to the edge of the counter. in an instant, her mouth is on you. you didn’t have much time, and the blonde didn’t plan on wasting it. the first flick of her tongue is slow, deliberate, like she’s savoring you, and one of your hands fly to the sink, gripping it for balance as a strangled gasp escapes your lips.

the other hand instinctively reaches to untuck her tie, pulling on it as the movement brings her closer. she smiles, teeth and all against your clit as she glances up, knowing how much you’re enjoying this. she brings your thighs over her shoulders, grip more rough now as she uses them as handles, having you in the exact position she’d pictured.

the sight of her there, all white suit and tie and sharp eyes, makes your breath catch in your throat. her tongue presses flat against you a few times, switching up the pleasure in a way that keeps you on your toes everytime.

you tug on her tie again, harder this time, making her groan into you, and you feel every bit of it. you can’t help it—the way she looks, the way she feels between your legs, it’s all too much. your back arches as you grind against her mouth, your thighs squeezing around her shoulders as the pleasure builds higher and higher.

“paige, please,” you breathe, your voice almost desperate. it’s a plea, but also a challenge, because you know she’s only going to push you further.

she smirks. “not going anywhere, baby. want more of me?”

she didn’t wait for an answer as she removed one of her hands from your thigh, pulling back just enough to see where her fingers were going. right into you, index and middle disappearing, the slight cold sensation of her rings at the base making your jaw drop lower, to the floor if possible.

luckily, you and paige have had sex in a few public places by now that you’d learned how to keep quiet. but right now, she wanted to hear you more than anything. needed to.

“lemme hear that mouth, too. don’t hold back.” and she meant it, head dipping between your legs once again as she got back to work, fingers moving at the same speed as her tongue.

“paige…” you breathe, practically squirming as you screw your eyes shut, unable to contain the whimper that escapes. the thrill of being caught, anyone knocking on that door, or worse, actually getting in, only heightens the sensation. “i can’t—”

“good,” she replies, the teasing lilt in her voice making you moan.

with every lick and thrust, she drives you closer to the edge, and you find yourself losing all sense of time and place, wrapped up in the moment with her. your fingers are still tugging tightly on that tie, and you’re sure this is the closest she’s ever been to your cunt, the closest she could possibly be.

you’re barely holding on, body trembling, legs wanting to close as the pleasure only builds, but paige doesn’t let up. she keeps going, curling her fingers up inside you, mouth moving faster, more insistent. your head falls against the mirror, and you can’t stop the soft, desperate sounds escaping your lips as you come undone without much warning. the sounds were enough.

paige doesn’t stop, not even when she’s sure your body has had enough, and your breath comes out in ragged gasps. she keeps her mouth on you, drawing out every last bit come until you’re spent, legs shaking around her shoulders.

when she finally pulls back, her lips are swollen, and there’s a smug, satisfied grin on her face as she runs her tongue over her top lip. she doesn’t say anything, but she stands up, pulling up your panties with her, making sure they hold every bit of the result she’d given you for the rest of the night. uncomfortable, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

and it’d give the blonde a present for when they’d get pulled down again later.

you’re still catching your breath, your fingers loosening from around her now shriveled tie. paige looks at you as if she’s just won a championship, glancing down at her chest as she tries to smooth out the tie, tucking it back in her vest. “good as new,” she mumbles.

you laugh, breathless, shaking your head as you tug her back into you, pulling her in for a kiss. “shut up,” you murmur against her lips, tasting yourself on her tongue.

but before you can say anything more, she pulls back, her grin widening as she whispers, “round two at the hotel?”

you’ll never be able to look at her in a suit the same way again.

#paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #uconn x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers uconn #uconn huskies #uconn #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige x reader #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #wlw post #lgbtqia #lgbtq

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greenglowinspooks · 1 year ago

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(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent

—

Tw: vivisection mention (not in detail), bad Fenton parents

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 2 here) (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a dark, cold, miserable night, and Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, wanted nothing more than to be home, covered in blankets with the heater set to max as he worked on his most recent strain of fear toxin.

Instead he was at the docks, standing in as backup for the Penguin as he made a deal with some sleaze-bag smugglers. Something about some sort of body armor for his hired help. Crane hadn’t really paid much attention to the Penguin’s words, only caring enough to show up because of the reward.

But honestly, he couldn’t care less about the money at this point.

He was cold, and miserable, and his leg hurt something fierce (he’d had chronic pains ever since being mauled by Killer Croc some time ago), and he was so, so close to a breakthrough with his new toxin, and he really couldn’t stand the Penguin anyways. The only thing keeping him there was his reputation as a rogue.

Just as Crane was deciding that the whole ordeal wasn’t worth it, he heard the sound of a chase a few blocks down. With a deep, heavy sigh, he moved from the wall he had been leaning against, looming in the alleyway as he waited for the potential threat to reveal itself.

A few moments later, a boy came careening into the alleyway, sliding to a stop when he noticed the Scarecrow, his eyes growing impossibly wide. Beneath the mask, Jonathan grinned.

The boy swore, loudly, glancing between Scarecrow and the exit of the alleyway. As the echoing sound of footsteps grew closer, he chose to face the way he came, turning his back to Scarecrow.

What an idiotic way to get killed. Either the boy was a complete and utter fool, or there was something out there worse (to him, at least) than the Scarecrow.

Jonathan Crane tilted his head slowly, considering. He could just cut his losses and leave, Penguin be damned, or he could stay and see what had the boy so spooked.

Eventually, unfortunately enough, his curiosity won out. He shifted, bringing a hand to his side where he kept several canisters of fear toxin.

Crane had to bite back a groan when the boy’s pursuers entered the alleyway.

It was those damned idiots in white suits.

They had been tailing him for weeks now. They were easy enough to fight, but they were annoyingly persistent, and always seemed to have a way to find him. (Not to mention, the Riddler had strong opinions on their outfits, and if he had to hear the white-suit-in-Gotham rant one more time he was going to throttle him.)

Led by the men in white was a woman in a teal hazmat suit. Jonathan had seen her around, too, though less frequently than the others. He had honestly assumed that she was just a new C-tier rogue and avoided her like the plague.

Her eyes went wide as saucers when she saw Jonathan standing a few feet from the boy. No one moved a muscle.

“Danny,” the woman spoke softly. The boy, Danny, flinched, glancing between her and Scarecrow, “come on, we can talk about this. Your father and I only want to help you.”

He was running from his mother?

Scarecrow paused after that revelation, choosing to fully take in the boy’s appearance.

He was lean, almost gaunt, and wearing clothes several sizes too big for him, probably stolen. His entire body shook, from fear and cold both, and he clutched his stomach with one hand. At first, Scarecrow assumed that it was due to being out of breath, but as he looked closer he could see blood staining the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt.

He was injured, underweight, and running from his parents.

Something that felt a lot like rage swelled in Jonathan’s heart.

“Danny, you don’t get it! We’re so close now. We can fix you, and then we can go home, and everything can go back to normal,” she said, smiling in a way that was clearly supposed to be reassuring. She took a few steps forward, the men behind her clearly readying their weapons.

The boy backed away from his mother, inadvertently coming closer to Scarecrow.

He glanced up at Crane again, his blue eyes shining in fear, but not of him.

Sickening. Sickening.

In one fluid motion, Jonathan grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulling him behind him, and threw a large canister of fear gas into the group who had been chasing him.

The liquid in the container turned to gas as soon as it broke open, billowing out and filling half of the alleyway with a thick yellow smog.

The boy gasped, pulling his shirt over his face in a pathetic attempt to filter out the toxin. It would have to do, though, Scarecrow thought, rushing forward to force the boy’s aggressors to breathe in the gas.

The fight that the men put up was pitiful. The few individuals who didn’t breathe in the toxin immediately were clearly unused to fighting hand-to-hand, and dropped like flies in Scarecrow’s wake.

Just as the men began to spasm and shout in their terror, as if on cue, the familiar wail of police sirens reached the Scarecrow’s ears.

He heaved a heavy, irritated sigh, fingers twitching for a cigarette. He was trying to quit as of late, but he felt that after today, he might deserve one.

Though now was not the time to be thinking of cigarettes.

Jonathan approached the boy, mindful of any signs he might run off.

The boy didn’t seem to notice his approach in the slightest, just staring at the woman in the jumpsuit as she writhed on the ground.

Right. That would most likely be traumatic for a child to see, wouldn’t it?

Scarecrow moved in front of the boy, blocking his line of sight. The boy looked up at him now, his face completely blank.

“The police are on their way,” Scarecrow spoke, his voice low. The boy didn’t acknowledge him in any way.

“You don’t want to be here when they arrive, do you?”

After several moments pause, the boy shook his head slowly. He looked numb.

Dissociation, most likely.

“You’ll come with me, then.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he waited for the boy’s response regardless. As soon as he nodded in agreement, Jonathan lifted him up, carrying him out of the cold, miserable alleyway.

Scarecrow paused briefly to warn the Penguin of the incoming officers through the comm he had been given, and then he was off, weaving through the streets and alleyways towards his getaway car.

…

The drive back to his safe house was quiet. The boy didn’t look over at him once, instead opting to stare out ahead of him.

…

Luckily, they were able to make it back without detection. Jonathan ushered the boy into his small apartment, sitting him down on the dingy couch that had come with the lease.

“Wait here, alright?” Jonathan said, the boy nodding once in response.

With that, he retreated into the small kitchen, looking for some sort of warm beverage.

It was nearly three in the morning now, so coffee was out of the question. He was completely out of the hot chocolate he had bought for whenever Eddie or Harley came over for a visit, so that was out too.

He supposed the only option was his chamomile tea. Did teenagers like tea? He supposed it didn’t really matter, the kid was on the run from his parents in the house of a Gotham rogue. Surely he had bigger things to worry about.

Jonathan made the drinks quickly, leaving the kitchen with two mugs in hand. He gave one to the boy, who looked up at him in surprise, before settling into his own seat.

It was an incredibly comfortable old leather armchair that he had gotten some years ago and stubbornly held onto ever since. He usually had one of the rogues he was at least somewhat friendly with pick it up when he entered Arkham.

Whenever Eddie and Harley were over, they would call it his old man chair, and he would tell them to leave.

The two of them sat quietly for a while, drinking their tea slowly. It was clear that the boy was leaving whatever headspace he had slipped into, becoming more alert (and uncomfortable) by the second.

“So,” Crane began, pausing before speaking more quietly when he saw the boy flinch, “you knew them.”

It was not a question.

The boy nodded, curling in on himself. He held the mug close to his chest, no doubt soothed by the warmth.

“They’ve been following me around for some time now,” Crane continued, “and you’re going to tell me why.”

The boy looked up at him, a pained expression written all over his face.

“You won’t believe me,” he murmured, curling up even further.

His clothes were soaked. Jonathan should have put down a towel before letting him sit down.

“Sure I will,” he said, ignoring the blood and water seeping into his furniture.

The landlord would not be happy.

“It’s gonna sound crazy.”

“I’ve been to Arkham.”

The boy paused, before mumbling something quietly.

“Again? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said,” the boy huffed, quickly changing his tone when he remembered who he was talking to, “they…think you’re a ghost.”

“A ghost,” Crane repeated flatly.

“I told you it was gonna sound crazy!” The boy protested, before wrapping his arms around himself.

“Well,” Jonathan hummed, “it’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard in Gotham. Explain it to me.”

The boy paused, glancing up at his face, no doubt looking for some sign of mockery. He found none.

Then, he opened his mouth, and explained everything he could.

Ghosts, the portal to another world, the GiW, his parents. It was all incredibly far-fetched, but also far too consistent to be made up on the spot, and Crane could tell that the boy genuinely believed what he was saying.

“…but, if you don’t believe me, fine. I know it probably sounds stupid and fake,” he mumbled, looking away.

“I’ll believe you for now,” Crane said. The boy whipped his head up, staring at him in shock.

“If I do trust that what you’re saying is true, though, then why do I show up on their equipment as a ghost? I’m not dead, and never have been.”

“Um,” the boy hummed, looking somewhat nervous. Understandable, really.

“Well, have you by any chance been involved in any lab accidents recently..?”

Jonathan Crane froze, his face dropping. The boy noticed his change in demeanor, flinching slightly.

“Penguin,” he hissed out, his voice slightly inhuman. “Cobblepot, that motherfucker.”

“Wait—calm down! The angrier you get, the easier you’ll show up on the radar!”

Crane glared down at the boy, seething with rage. He once again flinched, looking away from him. With an extraordinary amount of effort, Jonathan slumped back down in his chair, breathing deeply in an effort to calm himself.

When he cracked his eyes back open, the boy was openly staring at him, curiosity written all over his face.

As soon as he noticed Crane looking back at him, he glanced away, straightening in his seat.

“Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about. In the morning, we’re going to discuss this in a lot more detail,” he said, standing up with slow movements. The boy stood as well, hands clasped together.

“For now, though, you’re going to let me take a look at that wound of yours, and then you’re going to take a shower and go to bed.”

The rest of the night went rather quickly.

The boy was rather hesitant to show him his wound, instead assuring him that it had been properly sewn up and that he was fine. Crane was having none of it, though, and gave him a once-over just in case.

It was, very clearly, the kind of cut used during an autopsy. Danny didn’t offer any information, so Crane had to assume that he was either back from the dead, or he had been vivisected. Either was possible in Gotham.

At the very least, Danny hadn’t lied about the stitches, and the wound was already beginning to heal.

With that, Danny showered quickly (he leapt out with a shriek the moment the hot water ran out), and went to bed in borrowed clothes without much complaint.

Thus, Jonathan was left with cold water for his shower, and slept on the still-damp couch so that the boy could have a bed to sleep in. Somehow, he found that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #AWWAWAW IM DONE #FINALLY #this was super fun to write btw #edited while I was sick in bed so if the paving’s still bad there’s not much I can do about it HDKFNSJDJF #*pacing

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