#definitely going to use this color scheme again I’m fucking obsessed

[menomodumps]

I saw this stupid fucking post screenshotted on Pinterest and inspiration struck me so hard that I immediately stopped studying chemistry and pulled an all nighter to make possibly the best piece of art I’ve ever made I’m so proud of myself and so mad at myself at the same time adhd is a wild ride sometimes anyways

Art inspired by stuff I found on Pinterest part 4

TW: rape, blood, violence

[yanderechuu]

Shower Thoughts

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3.2K]

Summary: Momo wasn’t as trustable as you had presumed.

Warning: Larceny, nonconsensual touching, masturbation

│

You used to spend roughly ten minutes in the shower, only ever needing to soak your body in the water, apply shampoo and body wash before rinsing all the foam of products from your skin and scalp. Shower thoughts simply consisted of the day’s agenda or any special occurrence that had happened the past week, never really drifting off to existential questions and dark notions that would keep you from leaving the bathroom later than usual. You neither necessarily liked taking a shower nor did you dread it, as to you it was only ever a mandatory routine of the day which you handled with a neutral mind.

But now, ten minutes were already a slow thirty, and majority of the time you bothered not to move your arms to make work of your hair, or lather your skin with soap as you normally would do had it not been for the questions plaguing your mind like how your classmates would terrorize your time and space.

Right, your classmates - who would spend every hour of the day with you as if they didn’t have anything better to do. As if you were an important subject of matter next to hero training. You never appreciated it, because from the start, you did not want to have anything do to with them. They smothered and coddled you as if air wasn’t that important to you, disregarding the way you felt about personal space, how it was very significant to you. Rare were the moments of peace as a few of them were always by your side, ‘ensuring your safety’ as they would like to quote it. Why ensure your safety? You had not been a prominent figure in the sports festival, neither did you have a quirk that could be of great utility for the villains unlike Bakugou or Tokoyami. You weren’t a problem child, either. Their justification of following you around like you were some sort of high-maintenance prisoner made no sturdy sense to you.

“There’s this new package of green tea my mother had sent me this week! Would you like to try it, (y/n)?”

“Sure.”

But if you had to choose among your classmates one whom you would tolerate for the following years you’d be in U.A., that would be Yaoyorozu Momo. She was kind and considerate, often determining your feelings before you could voice it out (not that you really had the courage to, most of the time). She was organized and pristine and never had you met someone more befitting for the definition of ‘mom friend’ than her. She was perfect in nearly every way, and even though you’d have the occasional pang of jealousy at some times her perfectionism was displayed (gender envy, isn’t it, (y/n)?), she never seemed to bear mal intent, so you would let the emotions slide. You’d see the galaxy in her eyes if you would stare long enough. Her tea was best substitute for coffee, too.

You never considered her more than a very great friend, though, and to her, that was a problem.

As you sauntered your way over to your dorm with her, you shuffled your bag to take your room key buried in the side pockets. “I’ll go down in a while, but you better make sure you’re in the common room before me.”

You wouldn’t allow your classmates to take advantage of your lone self simply because Momo wasn’t there to fend them off.

“Mhm! Lemon green tea as usual, correct?”

“Yeah. Thanks again, YaoMomo.”

Your use of sotto voce tone on her nickname gave a pleasant shiver down her spine; her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head had she not restrained herself. Having been always kept to yourself, you never felt the need to adjust your volume for others to hear properly, so oftentimes your voice came out in a whisper - not that she minded, of course. You sounded more sensual that way.

“Are you going to take a while or will I have to brew tea right away?”

“Training was more strenuous than usual, and my muscles can’t seem to relax,” you explained, “so I’m going to take a quick shower.”

From your peripheral vision as you were focused on your bag to fish out the key, you saw Momo’s jaw slack upon hearing your plan to take a bath. It was odd, but you didn’t give particular attention to it when you finally took out your desired item. You failed to notice the way she abruptly settled her gaze on the key, inspecting it as if she was deliberating its shape, form, and material, and installing it to memory.

“Oh- oh!” She exclaimed. “I do remember having some body wash that help soothe muscle strains and body aches. I can hand them to you if you want.”

You shook your head, smiling lightly. “You’re too kind, YaoMomo. But I think just hot water will do for me.”

She watched as you opened the door to your room, giving her one more smile before disappearing inside and locking the door with a distinct click. As soon as you did so, she pulled the sleeve of her wrist up, developing with her body lipids a key the exact copy of the one you had held.

You certainly lied when you had said you were going to take a ‘quick’ shower. Already ten minutes into it did you only decide to sleek yourself with liquid body soap, initially absentmindedly rubbing it on your body, before you gradually got rougher with your movements and soon you found yourself scuffing your own flesh with vehement motion.

They were excessively touchy again, your classmates. Denki got too close to your face while delivering a pick-up line that made you wish you didn’t exist in order to hear it, and upon nearing you did Bakugou pull you away from him, cursing at him to buzz off. He took his time feeling up your waist - the part he used to grab you - while at it. During lunch, as you were once again coerced into joining his group to the cafeteria, Izuku refused to let go of your hand as you walked, and Uraraka as adamant with hugging you by the hips with one arm. It was what girlfriends did, she said, and you were not entirely sure whether or not she referred to that word romantically.

And if not, then did girlfriends also normally touch the parts of which you did not want to be touched on? You felt, clear as day, a bare hand resting on your thigh when you sat on your usual spot, dangerously close to lifting your skirt for everyone to see, and when you gave Hagakure’s faceless face a questioning look, she asked you what was wrong. Her uniform sleeve was literally floating on top of your lap, and still she had the gall to pretend as if she was not touching you with lacking consent. 

 You were not safe from Shoto, either, when he offered to readjust your uniform tie and you were in no place to decline (you had the right to, but they just stripped you off of it), his breath hitching in ecstasy as his fingers brushed your chest; he was, audaciously enough, not hiding his bliss. Then he rubbed your shoulders to ‘warm you up,’ when all he really intended to do was motivate his own fantasy that you were his and he was simply scenting you like some fucking alpha to his omega.

You turned no blind eye to their gesticulations. You never once found it endearing, and wished they would stop with whatever the hell this was called, because you were quite sure this was past the border of molestation and could already be rendered a form of bullying.

But not once did you consider the possibility of having a class obsessed with your quaint self.

So you supposed that until you’d find a way to deduce their idiosyncratic actions and tendencies then you would have to make do with your own bathroom as your safe space. Momo was the only classmate you could confide to, so at least she was there.

Unfortunately, you had yet to see the other side of her coin.

Because as she was just right outside your bathroom door, obsessively taking in every bit of item you owned inside your dorm room like a madman, you were left with the impression that she was all you could ever ask for in a friend. You didn’t know how she was not any better than the rest of your classmates, adoring your very existence to the extent of insanity; how she’d crave for you so often and so terribly that she’d feel herself clench when you do so much as merely spare her a glance. And you had done that a lot today - she would have to relieve herself for it.

She spotted the heap of clothes right by your bed; it became apparent that you had stripped yourself off of it before entering the bathroom and taking a shower. Walking towards it, a portion of your seamless underwear came to view, and she resisted the urge to render into a mound of horniness in order to pick it up and inspect it closely.

It was a lighter color of (s/c). A plain, simple, modest undergarment item, still it evoked a particular feeling on the bottom center of Momo’s hips. The heat came rushing along her midriff and instigated the muscle of her legs to falter, and as soon as she felt it, a hand of hers drifted past her skirt, feeling up the slick accumulated on the fabric of her own panties only with the knowledge that your panties were currently in her possession. She needed release, but you were nearly finished with your bath, and she was still inside your room.

You walked out of the shower the moment she shut the door of your bedroom. You saw it closed, but you didn’t catch the culprit.

This unnerved you to no end. Undoubtedly, you thought, this had to be one of your classmates. Who else was it supposed to be? Aizawa-sensei (...)? You had yet to know their ultimatum, but you were sure this occurrence was another one of their schemes. You had assumed that all their weird, unappreciated antics were just to get you to socialize with them, but now you didn’t understand why it had gotten to the point of entering your room without permission.

You couldn’t keep this to yourself.

So you planned to bring it up to Momo, a representative of your class and someone whom you deemed trustable enough to share it with. Quickly, you dressed into your casual indoor attire, and rushed outside your room to head to the kitchen, where you presumed she’d be in the process of making your tea. But she wasn’t there.

Instead, she was in her own room, your panties muzzled right into her face and her own fingers buried deeply inside her cunt.

“Oh- oh, god- Ah! (Y/n)!”

Oh god, your panties. Oh god, your panties. The object most intimate to your parts of intimacy, soaking every bit of womanly secretion from your genitalia. Of all the masturbation sessions she had done to the thought of you, this was the hottest. She wasn’t quite sure whether to imagine your cunt on her lips in a position of mutual cunnilingus or your fingers thrusting into her in place of hers. She wanted both.

A whine slipped past her lips. To think that moments ago, she was in the same space as you were nude. Oh, to join you in the bathroom, doing inenarrable things to each other with the use of the showerhead. To touch your skin selfishly rather than only watch as she would do during class hours.

She came with a squeal, falling face-down to bite the duvet of her large bed. Gone in her hazy mind was her promise to you of lemon green tea, and as she still basked in the pathological euphoria of getting off, you were in the common room, anxiously waiting for her return.

But just as you had expected, someone was bound to spot you alone and take this as an opportunity to be with you, and they just so happened to be-

Oh. Aoyama.

He offered you a slice of cheese with his usual grin before settling down a few feet beside you, enough to leave you be in your personal bubble. You gave him occasional glances, unwrapping the cheese from its casing and he just sat there, eating his. He was alright, you guessed - another tolerable classmate of yours next to Momo. Perhaps it was because you used to always be alone in the classroom with him during break time that you were at ease with his presence. Or maybe he just seemed so gay and that, for some reason, comforted you. One gay presence could comfort another lol.

“It’s delicious.” Your comment came out inadvertently.

“Oui. Only the best quality for the best person.” He flaunted.

You weren’t exactly sure whether he was referring to you or to himself, but you paid little attention to that as the cheese was certainly delicious; you were not lying.

“It’s odd how your chose to take a bath at this time of the day.” He spoke.

You stopped chewing.

He meant to refer to your damp hair, but having just suspected your class of breaking and entering your room, you thought otherwise.

“I-” You choked on the cheese, ending up needing to gulp it like liquid content instead of breaking it down to fit your throat. 

Immediately, he sprang up in concern, stepping over to you to gently thump you on the back. “Are you alright?”

“No- I mean- I just-!” You wheezed, occasionally having to clear your throat. You swatted his hand away from you; you hadn’t meant to appear rude, but you did. You stood up in a rush. “L-look, I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to drink water?”

“I’m- fine,”

With your words, you took off from the common room area and headed back to your room. There were two sets of emotions that mixed to form the bile in your throat. One was wrath and humiliation upon the discovery of Aoyama’s actions. The other was betrayal and confusion from Momo’s absence when she had said she’d be brewing tea for you, and it wasn’t the tea that disheartened you. She knew of your issue with the class, and if she were busy, couldn’t she have texted you a heads-up?

She shouldn’t be surprised when at the next time she saw you, you interacted with her less. Your intention to distance yourself from her was most prominent, and it didn’t help that your classmates took notice of this, because now they were taking advantage of the situation, tagging you along with them in spite of your futile attempts to decline now that Momo was nowhere to tell them off. When she’d talk to you, you would answer, though your voice was back to speaking to her like she was a stranger. 

Resentment was stronger than ruing the lack of intimacy between you two. It was as if she had received your panties in exchange for the time she’d be spending with you, oddly enough. After much deliberation, she came to realize that this was your little ‘tantrum’ after not being able to meet with her the other day. 

It was pretty cute, she thought, that you’d try and make her acknowledge the fault on her part by ignoring her.

You didn’t walk with her back to dorms as per usual that dismissal. Instead, just like what you had used to do before finding consolation in her, you walked alone, accomplishing being able to avoid your classmates as you did. By the time she reached the dorms, you were in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water to satiate your throat. She took a hold of your wrist before you went back to your room.

“(Y/n),” she pleaded, “tell me what’s wrong.”

You looked at her with a reluctant expression. Perhaps you should. After the short while that you had been hanging out with her, her presence turned into something you came to miss. You wanted her back, but not in the way she wanted you.

“I-it’s just,” you stammered out, “y-you know how I feel being alone in the common room without you. I... I’m not comfortable with our classmates when you’re not around.” She took pride in this. “I don’t take it lightly how you left me alone the other day...”

Your voice faltered out the longer you spoke.

So she was correct; you were certainly having your little ‘tantrum.’ With a guilty smile, she left your wrist to hold your hand tenderly, and suddenly it dawned upon you the feeling of whenever Bakugou held your waist, Shoto nuzzled his face on your neck or Izuku invaded your personal space.

Fear and apprehension.

Before you could preach your objection to whatever she had planned ahead for you, she dragged you along with her and you both reached her dorm room before you could comprehend where she was taking you. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” She said, making you sit on her large bed.

Then she proceeded to make you tea, boiling water with an electric kettle situated on top of her study desk; there also laid a tea set next to her three books, which you assumed were those of which would aid her in the utility of her quirk, like encyclopedias. Beside those was a piece of cloth, unfolded, unkept - a (s/c)-colored silk fabric.

Your face drained of color.

She pushed the books towards the cloth, completely obscuring it from your view and leaving the table disorganized. You knew Momo, neat and orderly as much as possible; she wouldn’t do that without reason.

Now that you thought about it, the same day someone had barged in your room, your underwear had been missing from your set of laundry garments. You spent the next whole day actively avoiding Aoyama, thinking he was the culprit to this felony. At the present moment you were reconsidering your allegation.

“U-um, Momo, I need to go-”

“Here!”

She yelled it so giddily, so uncharacteristically, as she pushed the cup of tea towards your way. How she did so was very quick that you had not the time to take it properly, and steaming liquid fell to your décolletage, past the cotton of your uniform and streaming down the valley of your breasts. It was a moist mess. She loved every bit of it.

“Oh! Oh, my bad. I’ll- I’ll clean you up!” She exclaimed, all flushed and excited.

You didn’t find it in you to push her back when she began to do exactly what she had said, taking your blazer off, loosening your school tie and unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath, only ever being able to stare at her with eyes that evinced betrayal, because it slowly occurred to you that she was satiating her own selfish obsession with you all under the ruse of maintaining a decent friendship. 

“(Y/n),” She breathed out, “I adore you.”

She was no different than the rest of your classmates, and you were a fool to think otherwise.

[donutloverxo]

Forever

*gif is not mine*

Note - this is for @buckyownsmylife 's 2k celebration and birthday. Congrats and happy birthday! I've never done a breeding kink so it's very new to me but I hope you like it.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - You've been in a secret relationship with Steve for two years. What happens when he tells you he wants to be with you forever?

Warnings - 18+ ONLY PLEASE, smut, breeding kink, sir kink, cum play, anal play, d/s relationship, deepthroating, boss/employee relationship, loosely edited.

Pairing - CEO!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2.6k

You watched him carefully, on the edge of your seat to see how he’d react, although you had a pretty good idea of what he’d say.

“Mm,” Steve made a face, scrunching his nose up, “What is this?”

“Why, it’s pumpkin spiced latte!” you gushed, “Starbucks most popular drink,” trying to hold in a giggle to not give away your little scheme of annoying him.

“I--that’s not my drink, doll,” he frowned.

“Yes! I remember, your drink is iced black coffee, no sugar or cream. I’ve been working for you for two years, sir, it'll be pretty hard to forget.”

“Then why did you get--whatever this is?” he put the cup on his desk, too disgusted to even hold it in his hand.

“I thought you’d like to try something new! Be a bit more adventurous!”

It’ll be pretty hard to get your sir to be anything like that. He has always been so uptight and set in his ways, he had a rigid routine, a clean and proper house which was frankly kinda boring looking which is why you refused to live with him. He had asked you so many times. But you always refused. There’s no way you could live in a house that looked like it was taken out of a magazine catalogue. Where you’d be afraid to even eat anything on or near his expensive and spotless furniture. You’d probably murder him in a month or so.

But maybe he can be more open to other possibilities, he was with you, he should adopt maybe a little bit of your personality as you had done his.

“I’ve got all the adventure right here,” he smiled, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, putting his cheek on the softness of your stomach.

“Hm, your next meetings in thirty minutes,” you hummed as you felt his fingers massage your hips, tempted to run your hands through his golden hair but not wanting to mess it up or make him look sloppy for his important meeting.

“Well, princess, I didn’t have my coffee so now my days off to a bad start. How will I sit through a meeting with Tony Stark? It’s impossible to keep up with that man.

“Um...” you bit your lip, “I didn’t really think of that... maybe I’ll go run and get you a new one right now!”

He chuckled, shaking his head at your naiveté, you were too innocent for you own good, even after being with him and doing the most depraved of things for so long.

He leant back in his chair, spreading his legs, “There is a way you can make it up to me and help me clear my mind.”

You blinked for a moment trying to process his words, “Oh,” you let out when you realised what he meant. “I’m, but...”

“What?”

“My implants expired. I need to get a new one, I’ve got an appoint in two days and I don’t want to take a chance...” you trailed off. There was no way you’d make him come in a condom or anywhere that wasn’t inside you either. So sex was off the table.

“Doll, you need to use that brain of yours sometimes, I know you can, you’re so much more than a pretty face,” he taunted you.

His harsh words really shouldn’t make your panties wet, so much so that you could feel slick running down your thigh but they did.

“You act as if you’ve got just the one hole,” he gave you a faux pout, a hand trailing up your thigh, up your skirt and past your stockings, “I can just use your mouth

....or your ass.”

“What? My ass?” you jumped, wanting to get away from him but he firmly held onto your hip.

You were well aware of his unhealthy obsession with your ass. He had ate it and fingered it, made you wear all sorts and colors of butt plugs so many times, sometimes even in the office. But you absolutely refused to take his dick up your ass.

Nope. Never. Absolutely not. No. Nada.

No matter how many times he’d ask for it, you were not taking his nine inch dick up your poor small ass.

“Relax, doll,” he grinned, “Get to work. I don’t have much time,” he motioned to his bulge.

You simply nodded, quickly scrambling to get on your knees. There were many ways to have sex than the good ol' penis in vagina--even if that was your personal favorite. You could just blow him for the next couple of days and ride his face.

It was honestly ridiculous how you literally couldn’t go just two days without his dick.

You were using your hands to pump his throbbing shaft, giving light kitten licks to his tip to rile him up and to maybe get a taste of your favorite creamy goodies.

“No hands,” he commanded.

And you almost whined. He always does this! Ruins your fun by taking away control from you.

“Not fair!” you mumbled, putting your hands behind your back as he held onto your face to properly use it.

“I decide what’s fair and what’s not, princess,” he stated, pushing your head down on him.

Lifting his hips up, cooing when you choked on him, tears streaming down your face and ruining your sweet makeup.

He tutted, brushing them away with his thumb, “Look at me, doll,” he told you and like the subservient secretary that you were, you immediately looked up. “What the fuck do you spend thousands of dollars on Sephora for if you can’t even get waterproof makeup?”

You frowned in confusion because you didn’t he if he was seriously asking or not. Did he expect you to answer? With your mouth full of dick?”

It wasn’t surprising that he knew what you spent money on, he let you spend as much money as you wanted on anything you liked, but he insisted on having a joint account so you both could be transparent with each other.

He shushed you when you tried to speak--to explain that you’ll try a better mascara next time.

“You look so pretty with your face stuffed,” he groaned, his hips stuttering as he emptied his load in your mouth.

You swallowed it all, knowing well and good by now that sir didn’tlike it when you let anything go to waste, “Thank you, sir,” you smiled up at him as you popped his dick out of your mouth. “I’ll go clean up.”

“You go do that. And remember to be at my place at seven sharp for dinner.”

“Yes sir,” you answered as you tried to stand on wobbly legs.

💍💍💍

He looked at the ring in the turquoise blue box, so bright and shiny and beautiful, so much like you. A big diamond with smaller ones on the band. He was sure you’ll love it. With the fortune that he had spent on it--you have to.

He just wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.

Or how he should go about asking you.

He couldn’t do it at a public restaurant. Even after all this time your relationship was still very much a secret. If people found out you’d have to stop being his secretary. And he wasn’t sure he could bear going so many hours everyday without you. YOU were his life now. How did he ever even live without you?

“Guess who,” he smiled when he heard your sweet voice, and felt your soft hands over his eyes, closing the box in his hand on instinct.

“Oh my god!” you squealed, removing your hands and jumping up and down in mirth, “Is that Tiffany’s?! Is it for me!”

All the screeching and the screaming made him flinch, he got up from his chair, turning around to see you, “Who else would it be for, doll?”

You squealed again, clapping your hands, you tried to snatch it away from him but he held it away, making you frown. You whined like a petulant child when he held it above his head, too tall for you to get your hands on.

“Sir!” you stomped your foot.“Please give it to me! What is it?” you jumped, hoping to snatch but with Steve being over a foot taller than you, it proved to be difficult.

“Uh... honey, you’ll have to wait a bit...” he had planned on cooking a five course meal for you and asking over candle lights, but you decided to show up over an hour early.

You stopped your ministrations, your lip wobbling, “Why...”

He sighed, his heart breaking at the mere thought of upsetting you, “You just have to, princess. Do you trust me?”

You nodded without a second thought. You most definitely did.

“Then you’ll just have to wait.”

💍💍💍

“Oo sir...,” you moaned, pushing on his wide shoulders when you felt his tip brushing against your pussy lips, “Not on birth control. Remember? Just... um.. just.”

He released your nipple from his mouth with a loud, obscene pop, his elbows on either side of your face as he looked down at you, “Just what, princess?”

“Just... um... well could you just eat my pussy tonight? I was so good in the morning to you!” And you missed having his talented tongue on you. Even though you were pretty sure he made you pass out by eating you out just two days ago.

“Of course I can, princess, you know I love the way your cunt tastes.”

Your cheeks heated up as he moved you onto your stomach, propping your hops up with a pillow.

Shivers running down your spine as he pressed kisses to it with his soft lips, over your butt before biting it and making you gasp.

“Love how I can pull all those sounds out of you,” Steve mused. There was no way in hell he could ever be with anyone who wasn’t you. He looked up at your empty hands, how he should have out a ring on it ages ago. He can’t let you go.

He wanted to do this forever. To be with you forever. What was he even waiting for?

“I want to give you my name,” he blurted.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, meeting your lust blown dark eyes, “Huh?” you asked, not sure that you heard him right.

“Mrs Rogers. It has a nice ring to it don’t you think?”

“Um, yes, maybe,” you immediately pushed your head into your pillow, too shy to even look at his beautiful face.

You had thought about being Mrs Steve Rogers the moment you met him. You loved the idea of being his wife and bride. You liked practicing your signature with his name, write your name along with his whenever you wanted to doodle or pass time. He had caught you more than once but never mentioned it.

Since he didn’t even want to tell others about your relationship, you doubted he’d want that kind of life long commitment.

Which was okay. For now.

It sucked but you were never going to beg him or even ask him to marry you.

“Are you just teasing me? If so... then that’s very cruel.”

You knew he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that but then why would he bring that up out of nowhere?

“You know I never lie, sweetheart,” he said, spreading your cheeks to reveal your glistening cunt and your small hole to him. “In fact I think I should prove it to you. Pump you full of my come tonight and knock you up.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked back at him, stuttering over your words and gaping at him like a goldfish.

“What? Are you serious?”

“Hopefully I can we can conceive tonight itself.”

“I – uh – I don’t wanna be pregnant on my wedding day, I don’t want anyone thinking that it’s a shotgun wedding or that I’m trapping you,” you stammered.

“Then we can get married in a month, or even a week. I can’t wait anymore. I want a family with you, I want the whole world to know that you’re mine.” What better way to do that then to literally make you round with his child?

Before you he hadn’t really given having kids any thought. But now he knew he wanted to have a little you. He imagined having just one kid with you. He wasn’t too keen on sharing you so maybe one would be more than enough.

But he hadn’t thought about this aspect of it. The trying phase. How he'd get to keep you full of his cum till you got pregnant.

And how much more beautiful you’d look when you were round with his child, carrying his seed.

“Uh, okay,” you whispered you couldn’t really think straight, it was all happening so fast, but there was one thing you knew for sure--this was all that you ever wanted. To be married to the love of your life and to have his kids.

“What? You’ll have to speak up, doll.”

“Yes, sir, I want to have a baby with you. I want us to be married. Please make me yours,” your eyes watery as you bore yourself to him.

He smiled, moving up to press a kiss to your temple, “That’s all I needed to hear,” he promised.

Turning you to your back, “Wanna see your face when I come in your pussy, doll.” He told you.

Your face was heating up, with the way he was looking at you--as if you were the most precious thing he had ever seen, you couldn’t bear to keep facing him but decided to look into his eyes, dig your nails into his biceps as he entered your channel.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, doll, will make me come, ugh,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours once he was completely sheathed in you. He wrapped you up in his strong arms, slowly rocking into you.

“Steve,” you whimpered, “wanna come...”

“I got you, baby,” he hushed you, pecking your lips before being his hand down between your bodies to roll your bud, which had you squeezing him even tighter.

Your entire body quivered as you clenched around his length, gushing all over him. Laying limp in his arms as he started fucking into you.

“You’ll make such an amazing mother... your titts,” he looked down at them, bouncing due to the force of his hips driving into yours. He latched his lips onto a hardened nipple, imagining them fuller and heavier.

“They’ll be even bigger, your hips too...” he whispered against your skin, his nails digging into your skin, sure to leave scars.

“Oh... you’d... you’d...” Make good dad too. He had all the qualities it took to be a good father. And where he lacked you flourished.

You sighed, feeling his warm cum fill you up, he stayed inside you, a leg between and under yours as he laid on his side.

Wiggling his hips to make sure his softening cock was as deep as it could be, so his spend would stay inside you. He collected some that leaked out of your joined sexes with his fingers, bringing it up to your mouth, “Don’t let it go to waste, sweetheart.” As you eagerly sucked his fingers clean.

“Hopefully it takes,” he said, drawing random patterns on your stomach.

“Mhm, guess I can cancel my appointment...” you murmured before drifting off to sleep.

💍💍💍

You yawned widely, sitting up and stretching out all your limbs, aching so painfully since Steve was hell bent on keeping you full of his seed, you could still feel it seeping out of you, he made love to you three more times before he finally let you get some shut eye.

Something sparkly caught your eye, you looked in at your hand and the diamond on it. Smiling in awe at just how lucky you were.

“Wonder if it worked,” you said to yourself, rubbing hand over your tummy.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[glitterge1pen]

Strawberry Juice Kissing And GirlsGoGames Nostalgia

Keigo Takami x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 1,373

tw; a lil bit of alcohol , this one is also more feminine than my other writing but I still use neutral pronouns  

It’s early. Your friends were going to come over for brunch later. You had invited Keigo but he would already be working, when he said he could come over earlier you agreed. You woke up early, a gentle buzz of excitement in all of your movements, making you feel less groggy.

You get ready as best you can. When the knock at the door arrives you’re still half in your pajamas but answer the door anyway. Keigo doesn’t have any semblance of morning on him. He looks as he always does, put together and composed. Even as he tosses his jacket over the side of your couch and gives you a tray of pastries the motions of him seem thoughtful.

“Did you make these?”

You ask as you place them on the kitchen table. Keigo follows you into the kitchen, opening up the windows in the room before hoisting himself up on the counter.

“Hell no, got them from a shop on the way here”

You’re in the cabinets next to him reaching for two glasses.

“Orange juice?”

You ask, already in the fridge bringing the juice and champagne out. You grab the fruit salad you had tossed together the night before, your main contribution to the brunch besides hosting and drinks. You place the bowl of fruit on the table before going back to the counter to make the drinks.

“Yes!”

Keigo says as he watches you pour the liquid into the glass. You make yourself a mimosa but skip the alcohol in Keigo’s drink. He actively frowns at this.

“Hm, no champagne for me?”

“Don't you have to work later?”

“Yeah, but one drink? I’ll be fine”

Keigo grabs two pastries and you the drinks. Once at the table Keigo crosses one leg under himself, and puts his other knee up to his face where he nibbles at his pastry. This is when he notices your laptop on the table, you had been working the night before and left it out on the table. He swipes his fingers on his pants to rid his hands of the gathered crumbs, then grabs at your laptop.

You watch curiously not sure what he’s doing. You groan a bit as he opens up his email. You drag the laptop away from him, mouth half full as you tell him to stop it.

“You’re not on the clock yet, relax”

“I’m always on the clock”

“Yeah, sure”

You say with a smile and a sugar coated mouth that you've collected from the pastry.

“What do you suggest then?”

“If you want to relax?”

You’re puzzled and in thought for a moment before you get an idea. Your fingers gliding over the keyboard. When the screen loads Keigo looks, surprised, startled almost.

“I saw this at the library once”

“What?”

“I snuck out once, and went to the library, and these younger girls were on this exact website at those big old library computers”

Keigo takes an impressive gulp of his drink, and without taking his eyes off the screen pours himself some more. He had an almost unreadable look about him, but you can see some sort of longing in the inquiring way he was glancing at the screen. You put the laptop between the two of you.

“Chose one,”

“What?”

His eyes are wide as he considers you.

“These are great for relaxing, I promise”

You say taking another sip of mimosa. Keigo is hesitant but he does start clicking around on the bright pink page.

"Look this one has wings,"

He says clicking onto one of the fairy dress up games. You resist the urge to giggle or call him cute. He seems overly invested in the little fairy picture on the screen. You debate which color her wings should be. He says that obviously the wings should be red, you counter with the iridescent wings. Keigo drags on each item of clothing to test them out on the fairy. Same with the hair.

You look away for one moment, checking your phone, a notification having gone off. When you look back up at the screen you choke a bit on the tangy juice in your mouth. Keigo has changed the hair, the skin tone, and even the eye color of the fairy on the screen to resemble you. He's still asking you about what clothes he should put on the fake doll, not acknowledging the quick changes he has made. So you decide to ignore it too. Telling him which items look best and what shoes he definitely should not put on.

"I still think it should have the red wings, that way we could match"

"We?"

You question.

"Yes, we, that literally looks just like you, did you not notice?"

He asks in a way that tells you he knew exactly what he was doing. He takes a strawberry from the bowl, you notice that it's the fifth strawberry he's had and scold him, telling him to eat the other fruit as well.

"I like strawberries,"

Is all he says as he eats another one. You also pop one of the fruits into your mouth. It's cold and refreshing and just below too sweet. Keigo finishes off his mimosa and only pours champagne into his glass when he refills it.

"You should eat more, if you're gonna be drinking"

You tell him, a playful warning.

"I only want strawberries"

He says reaching into the bowl. But he stops, pulls the fruit bowl closer to him. No strawberries. He looks to you and you have the last one in your fingers.

"That strawberry should have been mine, you probably have more in the fridge, me I have to go the whole rest of the day without one"

You nod like you are taking in Keigo's proposal, pretend contemplating it. You didn't want to tell him that there were more strawberries in the fridge. Instead you decide to be a bit bold. You put half of the strawberry in your mouth. Keeping it in place with the front of your teeth, putting your head in your palm, teasing Keigo with the last strawberry.

The strawberry in your lips, Keigo places his mouth on the other half you have offered to him. He bites the red fruit, pocketing it in his cheeks, his lips chasing after yours. The cold sweet juice of the berry coating your lips and the corner of your mouth. It’s a clumsy kiss, his lips just barely catching the bow of your own.

When you move back to your place at the table, away from him, you take the back of your hand to rid your face of the sticky fruit juice before it settled.

“Huh? That bad? You gotta wipe the kiss away?”

He’s teasing you, his voice close to your ear, flushed breath dancing over your skin.

“You're such a baby, I just don't like strawberry juice on my face”

He inspects your face, you scrutinize him, knowing he has a scheme to play out. You can tell because of the specific shine that glistens around his irises, the taut way his mouth is, like he’s so fierce in trying to hide his smile, like you possibly couldn’t know what he was up to.

“What? You don't have anything on your face? Nothing I could see, here,”

He leans into you again, like he’s going to brush at your face with a napkin or his hand. Then his tongue is on the spot right above your lips.

“God, Keigo!”

You say, pulling away from him with a laugh, leaning back in your chair a bit.

“What? I couldn't see anything, couldn't taste anything, actually that's a lie, you did taste like strawberries,”

“Hm, wonder if it has anything to do with the strawberries we’ve been eating”

“Doubt it, you probably ate a strawberry flower and it grew inside you”

“Isn't that watermelon?”

You ask him, adjusting yourself to get a better grab at the laptop, wanting to play more silly online dress up before he had to leave. He shakes his head, like this was irrefutable.

“No, you have flowers inside you and you'll die with strawberries growing out of you”

“Keigo, I’m taking the champagne from you”

༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: I AM OBSESSED WITH FRUIT AND FRUIT IMAGERY IT IS IN EVERYTHING I WRITE RN LIKE EVEN JUST HINTS OR MENTIONS OF FUCKING FRUIT SO SORRY FOR THIS also shout to dee-lite for the title, just changed apple to strawberry. Ugh the strawberry. Such a complicated relationship I have with the strawberry. Listened to Heartbreaker by Mariah Carey the entire time I was writing this.

[transmascfrankiero]

all of mcr’s songs ranked out of ten based on whether or not you can strip to them:

romance: could work if you were going for a Super Melancholy smiths-esque vibe but overall too slow and pretty. 1/10

honey: headbanger soundtrack to showcase your revenge body to ur ex. bonus points for underlying ‘gonna murder shitty boyfriend’ context thanks to audition-inspired video. but slightly too angry to be seductive. 5/10

vampires: too goth, too many feelings. reminds me of pot dreads frank. would not work. 0/10

drowning lessons: this song is cursed and cannot be listened to in public unfortunately 0/10

sorrows: if u were going to do a strip routine while beating the shit out of someone for trying to stealing ur tip money this would be a gr8 choice 6/10

halos: it’s about blowing your own head off and taking too many pills to cope w/ wanting to die all the time. 0/10

turnstiles: please do not!!! strip!!! to a song!!! about 9/11!!!! what is wrong w/ you!!! -100000000/10

monroeville: if u were doing a private lil strip dance for your george a. romero-obsessed s.o. where u both cry over the idea of having to kill the other person b/c they turned into a zombie then sure??? but other than that no. .5/10

best day ever: ehhhhhh. too fast. kinda weird to get sexy to unless u have a hospital kink. 0/10

cubicles: wow the thought of doing a strip routine to a song about pining for ur coworker who doesn’t know u exist is too sad to even joke about -20/10

demolition lovers: it’s a long song but it’s got cool tempo changes for variety and if u got the stamina then go for it. 4/10

helena: so, like, i get it. it’s a bop. u could dance to this beat for sure. the costumes and color scheme from the video make for gr8 stage pictures and the dancing corpse lady is v pretty. i could understand why if u were doing an emo strip routine u would want to use helena. but please for the love of all that is holy do NOT strip to a song gerard way wrote about his dead grandmother okay i am BEGGING you -∞/10

give ‘em hell kid: FUCK YEAH YOU LOOK PRETTY WALKIN DOWN THE STREET IN THE BEST DAMN DRESS U OWN. 10/10

to the end: this would be a hilarious choice for a bachelor party ngl 7/10 for that alone

prison: absolutely you could strip to this song but u gotta COMMIT okay u gotta light something on fire onstage and challenge gender norms while screaming your head off 8/10 but only if ur not a coward

i’m not okay: it’s a bop, but can u strip to it? no. 0/10

ghost of you: mikey way did not die on a beach in fake normandy for u to strip to ghost of you. seek help -5/10

jetset life: dude this song like. actually works??? for a strip routine??? so long as you don’t actually listen to the words, from a musical perspective, u could totally strip to this 10/10

interlude: what kinda weird catholic shame kink do u need to have to strip to this song. also it’s too short and too pretty. -5/10 (unless ur into catholic shame idk)

venom: this would require such a high energy routine but if u can make being sweaty work then this is a gr8 choice 7/10

hang ‘em high: this is a BATSHIT INSANE choice for a strip routine but if u want to do it then PLEASE do. i like ur style. 8/10

deathwish: u can strip to this only if u introduce ur routine by dedicating it to everyone who ever said eyeliner on dudes was gay. 5/10

cemetery drive: i think not. 0/10

never told you: if u are a highly theatrical highly murderous stripper then yes definitely 7/10

desert song: this song is Way Too Beautiful to strip to sorry you can’t have it -300/10

the end.: the only sexy thing about this song is how good gerard’s voice sounds so no. 0/10

dead!: this is a bold fucking choice but u have to play your cards just right. high risk high reward but SO much to potentially get wrong 6/10

how i disappear: u could. but why. 2/10

sharpest lives: holy SHIT yes ABSOLUTELY u should strip to sharpest lives. the drama. the beat. the spy rock guitar that frank accidentally nailed. this is one of THE choicest options from their catalog. why aren’t u stripping to this right now 50000000/10

wttbp: cute idea but don’t actually 0/10

i don’t love you: again, a bold fucking choice. u could strip to this in an edgy, meta sort of way but it’s missing the trashy factor so it’d have to be part performance art and part strip routine. if ur into that then totally 5/10

house of wolves: i mean i would pay money to see someone strip to this song so 7/10

cancer: LMAO YIKES -2000000/10

mama: this would be GLORIOUS if u fully embraced the sheer insanity and went Bonkers in Fuckin Zonkers burlesque-show-in-hell w/ it. 100/10 but u gotta pound the floor wailing at some point

sleep: i’m conflicted on this one like on the one hand it’s a good tempo for stripping but on the other hand it’s a song about being cruel to ur loved ones in order to force distance between u and them b/c you’re terrified of them getting hurt and it being all your fault. so maybe don’t strip to this one actually 0/10

teenagers: a bop w/ a great beat and fun costume ideas from the video but two major drawbacks being 1. ur getting naked to a song about teenagers which is uhhhh sort of Inappropriate and 2. it’s kind of also about school shooters which is also Inappropriate to get naked to. 0/10

disenchanted: why would u want this. you sad fuck. idek what to say except if you want to strip to this song i’m crying on your behalf -100000000/10

famous last words: don’t????? don’t. Do Not. stop that. -12/10

blood: this is HILARIOUS omg please strip to blood 10/10

kill all your friends: sure?? no objections but it’s an odd choice. this goes for the demo too. 2/10

heaven help us: if u want to strip to this then you definitely just read unholyverse for the first time and while u are valid, Don’t 0/10

my way home is through you: not an especially sexy song but it’s fun!! you do you 3/10

astro zombies (cover): uhhhhhh it’s a no from me dawg. i’d be thinking about danzig, like, the whole time. 0/10

desolation row: sure but u gotta be willing to get punched in the face by the riot squad for maximum effect 4/10

common people (cover): just b/c gerard would strip to britpop doesn’t mean u can. 0/10

emily: NO!!!! -50000/10

party at the end of the world: nah. 0/10

not that kind of girl: literally please consider the subject matter of this song and rethink ur life choices. -10/10

all the angels: it’s a cool song but don’t strip to it that’s weird -2/10

jack the ripper: you and the person who wants to strip to astro zombies can go sit in the suicidegirls corner together how about that. 0/10

na na na: a banger!! strip away my friend 9/10

bulletproof heart: a good song but not a strip song 1/10

sing: sorry this song is [REDACTED] it gets no score

planetary (go!): you could try to strip to this but it’s such a classic four-on-the-floor that i think you’d end up just regular dancing to it and forget to be sexy so 4/10

the only hope for me is you: are you doing a strip tease for michael bay. stop. put ur shirt back on shia lebeouf 0/10

party poison: like this is a hilarious option and i support you but realistically it’s pretty fast for a strip song 3/10

save yourself, i’ll hold them back: this is a safe option. Too Safe. almost soulless. a person who’d strip to this would avoid eye contact the entire time and never smile and later when you went out for a smoke break you’d overhear them on the phone with their ex arguing over child support payments. 4/10

s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w: the more i think about it the more fun the idea of stripping to this becomes so i say go for it 6/10

summertime: i’m Certain that gerard would prefer if you didn’t -5/10

destroya: is this objectively the best mcr song to strip to? Absolutely. it’s got everything you could possibly want right down to built-in moans and fever dream drums. but the only person in the universe who Can Must and Should strip to this song is gerard. sorry them’s the breaks. ∞/10 but only if you’re gerard way

kids from yesterday: don’t. 0/10

vampire money: 100% yes you should strip to this. bonus points for stealth twilight references 1000000/10

we don’t need another song about california: do i like this song? yes. is it sexy? no. 0/10

black dragon fighting society: i can’t understand what the FUCK gerard is saying in this song AT ALL so i can’t recommend that u strip to it b/c i have no fucking idea what it’s ABOUT 0/10

f.t.w.w.w.: i mean. this song is about eating pussy. and robots that are built specifically to fuck. so yes you can strip to this but you gotta dress up like a pornbot 100/10

mastas of ravencroft: again i cannot understand most of the fucking words and the ones i do understand are something something RICKETY BONES RICKETY HANDS so like. probably not the one 0/10

boy division: i could go either way on this one like it’s really fast but it’s also about cocaine so??? 3/10

tomorrow’s money: while this song slaps overall violent nihilism does not a strip song make 1/10

ambulance: no. 0/10

gun.: antiwar messages are sexy but not the right kind for stripping 1/10

the world is ugly: PLEASE no. 0/10

the light behind your eyes: oh my god this is so DEPRESSING why would you want to strip to this who hurt you -2000000/10

kiss the ring: yes yes yes it’s got built-in audience participation conceit factor if u let ur audience kiss ur ring, totally works 10/10

make room!!!: again, slaps, but not a strip song 1/10

surrender the night: dude we talked about this!!! dying violently w/ ur loved ones is Not Sexy!!! 0/10

burn bright: i guess you could strip to this but again it’s Too Safe tread carefully 3/10

fake your death: i want frank iero to strip to this song so i can throw tomatoes at him for being a LYING SACK OF SHIT FOR TWO YEARS i’m not gonna rate this one but frank if ur out there i have a basket of slightly squishy heirloom tomatoes and i am COMING FOR YOU

[bisluthq]

I'm mad at TTB and those blogs for what they do to kids like my sister.

My sister is 15 right now, and she just came out to me as gay last year (I'm straight) but is still closeted to everyone else including our parents. And a bit later, she told me stuff about how she thinks Taylor Swift is gay and engaged to Karlie Kloss and all, and my first thought was "That doesn't really sound believable", but then I thought, well her thinking that is harmless, right? So I was like "Really, can you tell me more?", and she told me a bunch of stuff

And then I looked into it out of curiosity and now I actually do think that Taylor is bisexual because there's a lot of weird stuff that wouldn't really make sense otherwise

But the thing is, when Karlie announced her pregnancy, she was so upset. Like genuinely extremely upset because that's when she was forced to accept that Kaylor must have broken up

And now, I've even more worried about her because she's not in a great place mentally right now, being closeted is taking a huge toll on her, and she's really heavily invested in this idea of Taylor being a lesbian. Specifically a lesbian because she told me she's always felt like a freak for not liking men at all, and that she always feels pressured to try to see if she can somehow be bisexual instead, and all of this kind of stuff

And she even told me that Taylor's music is the only thing keeping her mentally together right now

I'm just scared that Taylor is going to announce an engagement soon and then my sister will be devastated

And this wouldn't even be a problem in the first place if it wasn't for straight TTB adamantly insisting to closeted teenage lesbians that Taylor's a lesbian too! Because they then get really attached to the idea

Whereas, if she'd just been more realistic and responsible in the first place and said, "I personally think Taylor's a lesbian, but she might be bisexual", so many young closeted lesbians like my sister wouldn't be so hurt when Toe possibly does turn out to be real

Like I'm just mad and I wish she would think about these things before promising kids that something she doesn't know for sure is a fact. My sister is genuinely gonna have some kind of emotional breakdown if Toe get engaged. Her mental health is really not great right now from being closeted, and this is one of her only comforts at the moment, that her favorite singer is a lesbian too, so it's ok that she doesn't like men because neither does Taylor Swift. It just makes me so sad, TTB is the worst. I'm trying to figure out some way to prepare my sis for it, so it's not so shocking to her like K's pregnancy was :(

FFS THIS MAKES ME SO UPSET and like this is what I mean about how although this woman is very funny to me personally - and she really fucking is, like I find her hilarious - she has a net negative on the (internet) world around her. It BREAKS MY HEART that people are selling LIES and that those lies are hurting actual marginalized children.

Like Taylor is very possibly bi (or a baity bitch or just dense as a rock idk) but she’s also probably never gonna come out tbh and she’s very likely going to marry Joe and they’re gonna have little Swiftwyn bébés. And like that’s okay, that’s life - she never implied to ANYONE EVER that she is a gold star lesbian. If anything we are reading into stuff to pick up that she’s some kind of queer and the ONLY FLAG COLORS SHE USES - like for real that she uses not that one short shot from Rep tour - are bi pride colors. And she does so over and over again, which is why either baiting or moronic and obsessed with one color scheme or fluid. It’s people on the internet who decided that she’s a gold star dyke and... 

That is HARMFUL to children like your sister. 

I think the first thing you need to do is try get her to read more balanced blogs. I’d send her to @swiftgron-get-married and @mercuryonparklane because they’re both Kinsey 6 lesbians and they’re both blogging about Gaylor in a way that centers women whereas I don’t always (also they’re both a fair amount more PG man like I know kids read me but if they found me they found me, it’s the internet and better me than some other sources lbr). Tell her that you’ve been following this and you believe her, and you like it too and you’d like to share some new blog ideas for her. 

The second thing you need to try do is get her to consume more music by OUT queer - and particularly lesbian - women. Suggestions include: Hayley Kiyoko obviously, Carlie Hanson (Taylor has promoted her before), Janelle Monáe (pan but quite genderfluid/often masc presenting and never really publicly dates men), Tegan and Sara, the xx, St Vincent, PVRIS, MUNA, It Was Romance, Screaming Females, Lower Dens, Austra, Kehlani, Kera and the Lesbians, No Girlfriends, and Beatrice Eli. Girl in red is out bi and has a lot of wlw songs but she’s weirdly lesbophobic idk what the vibe there is. 

And Miley and Demi!! Like if she likes Tay she is likely to resonate with Demi and while Demi is fluid, she has publicly dated women so it should be comforting to some degree.

But most of the people I’ve listed are out lesbians.

I’m sending so much love to you and your sister. You’re being a fabulous sister and an excellent ally (whether she’ll admit it now or not it’s gonna mean SO MUCH to her that you have been making an active effort to learn about queer stuff and have been deadass reading my gay ass blog for ideas). It is definitely going to be hard for her. But she has someone who loves her unconditionally and who will be there for her.

Keep us updated on how it’s going... Like I say, I’d start by suggesting new artists and new blogs to read and engaging with her on these theories in a nonconfrontational and supportive way.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9, pt 10, pt 11, pt 12

- Chapter 13 -

Meng Yao was extremely practiced in keeping his emotions under control.

He always had been, his mother’s inheritance to both him and Nie Huaisang. The brothel had taught him the basics of how to utilize his natural talent for it, while politics had refined the skill into an art. He could keep a smile on his face as he was being tortured, something he would have once said was theoretical but could now definitively attest to, though thankfully only briefly.

Even so, he had to briefly close his eyes when they dragged Nie Mingjue into the throne room and threw him to his knees at Wen Ruohan’s feet.

Wen Ruohan didn’t notice, of course – he only had eyes for his prize – and that gave Meng Yao the moment he needed to collect himself before stepping out to deal with matters, as was his right as the person whose scheming had achieved such a triumph.

The first one who saw him was Nie Mingjue. His eyes were hurt and confused, tender like a day-old bruise that was being pressed down on, but he said nothing, did nothing. He didn’t rage or spit or anything that might have reasonably been expected; he didn’t yell or try to lunge forward, even though he wouldn’t have been able to get very far even if he tried.

For the first time in his life, Meng Yao couldn’t tell what Nie Mingjue was thinking, whether he was cursing him or if he was simply mourning him, believing he had been betrayed in truth – he remained silent, remained on his knees, his arms bound tightly to his side; he was quietly terrified to the bone, the emotion just barely hidden behind his unbending pride, and Meng Yao’s chest hurt to look at him.

The other Nie cultivators looked hurt, too, when they saw him. After all, not long ago he’d been their second young master, their sect leader’s right hand –

But that had been before.

Before, as far as they knew, he betrayed them all.

Meng Yao approached Nie Mingjue, saying nothing. After all, what needed to be said? There was no mockery greater than the mere fact of his presence there, clad in Wen sect robes.

He was even wearing a sword.

(Chiwen remained safe, hidden in his room, snarling and uncontrollable in his hatred for everything about their lives right now, but how would they know that? For all they knew he had discarded it like trash, the Nie sect’s life and livelihood, all nothing but trash…)

Or at least, there wasn’t any mockery greater than that, right up until Meng Yao opened the box he was holding in his arms and showed Nie Mingjue that Baxia had fallen into his hands.

No Nie saber will ever voluntarily be held in the hands of a Wen – Meng Yao had remembered Nie Mingjue’s words and seized Baxia the very first instant he could, but right now he was a Wen, and wasn’t that the worst insult of all?

Nie Mingjue flinched when he saw his saber lying there in Meng Yao’s arms, in a box of Wen sect colors, the threat not needing to be spoken for it to be clear – he flinched, flinched away from Meng Yao as if Meng Yao were Wen Ruohan.

That was the step too far for the Nie disciples that had been captured alongside him. One of them spoke up, saying something crude, an insult to Wen Ruohan, and for all that Meng Yao agreed wholeheartedly, such a thing could not be borne. 

He stepped forward and backhanded the man, knocking him to the ground, and ordered him to be taken to Fire Palace – ordered them all to be taken there, and told the guards to go fetch Wen Qing, saying with a vicious smile that her doctor’s services would undoubtedly be needed to prolong their experience.

They were dragged away. Some of them shouted curses at him, damning him in the filthiest of language; others only continued to look hurt, even shocked, as if they had still believed in him right up until that moment.

Wen Ruohan laughed. “Always so quick to defend my honor, my Meng Yao,” he said, his voice low and purring and overly intimate, and then he stood, coming down from his throne. “It feels good to have such loyal retainers…don’t you agree, Sect Leader Nie?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Right verb,” Wen Ruohan said, and his smile was full of filth. “Wrong subject.”

He reached out and put his hands in Nie Mingjue’s hair, pulling out the few braids that remained intact and running his fingers against his scalp – it was something Nie Mingjue had always enjoyed when Meng Yao or Lan Xichen had done it for him, a little tidbit Meng Yao had unintentionally let slip during one of his storytelling sessions, and he could see Nie Mingjue shudder with disgust at the familiar action.

He probably wouldn’t like it again, in the future. Lan Xichen would undoubtedly mourn the loss.

“I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time,” Wen Ruohan said.

“Do you want to take him upstairs?” Meng Yao interjected, but Wen Ruohan waved him away.

“Later,” he said, impatiently, already forgetting that Meng Yao was even there. “All of that can come later. I have a prize to claim, and in front of my throne is as good a place as any.”

Nie Mingjue tried to struggle then, to free his arms, to reach for Baxia still held so close and yet far away from him in Meng Yao’s arms, to do something, but all of his struggles did him no good. Wen Ruohan was not in the mood to play games of cat and mouse, not after so many years of being denied: he unleashed the full force of his cultivation, dominating and overwhelming, and pushed Nie Mingjue onto his back before he could recover from the effect, forcing his legs open and kneeling between them.

“Ah – stop!” Nie Mingjue cried out, pushed beyond his limits into something like begging. It didn’t help, of course. Wen Ruohan pulled open the front of Nie Mingjue’s robes, pressing him down. Their hips slotted together, Wen Ruohan rocking back and forth, his face ecstatic with the pleasure of domination, of victory, his obsession of so many years finally on the verge of being satisfied for the first of what would undoubtedly be many times. One of his hands pressed Nie Mingjue down, the other slid down between his thighs. “No! Stop it, don’t – stop – Meng Yao!”

Wen Ruohan laughed in delight. “How stupid do you have to be to call out to him?” he asked, eyes bright with amusement even as he pressed their bodies together even closer. “Do you really think –” A bestial grunt, and a cry of pain. “- that he’ll help you? He belongs to me –”

Meng Yao took Wen Ruohan’s head off with Baxia.

It was a better death than the bastard deserved, far too quick and easy, but it was the only opportunity he had: Wen Ruohan had dropped every single one of his shields and protections to pull together the spiritual force he was using to keep Nie Mingjue pinned down and helpless, keep him writhing on the floor in spite of all his power; Wen Ruohan had been showing off his superior cultivation like a preening peacock, safe and unguarded, all his attention on memorizing Nie Mingjue’s every reaction. It wasn’t that he didn’t know Meng Yao was there, of course, but he hadn’t thought twice about him, thought of him as nothing but a prop, a mindless object allowed to remain close at hand only because it would enable him to wring out the maximum amount of misery and despair from Nie Mingjue.

Meng Yao could come up close, even with Baxia still clutched in his hands, and Wen Ruohan wouldn’t register his little loyal pawn, the one he’d seduced since childhood, as anything resembling a threat.

He should have.

Meng Yao checked to make sure he’d gotten the head fully off – he had, so quickly and cleanly that Wen Ruohan’s expression was still fixed in a look of triumph – and then turned back to Nie Mingjue, tensing when he saw that he hadn’t moved: he was still lying on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling, Wen Ruohan’s bloody corpse on top of him.

Meng Yao swallowed.

Had he acted too late? Had something fundamental been broken inside of Nie Mingjue?

“Da-ge?” he said hesitantly, not sure if he was still allowed to say that. “Da-ge, I got him – he’s dead.”

Nie Mingjue was shaking when Meng Yao pulled the corpse off of him, casting it aside, and then suddenly he was moving, up and towards Meng Yao and Meng Yao started to scramble away, not wanting Nie Mingjue to do something he’d regret in a moment of fury, but Nie Mingjue was faster than he was.

He wrapped his arms around Meng Yao and he – did nothing.

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue murmured into his neck, his voice broken. “Meng Yao, A-Yao…”

He wasn’t trying to hurt him.

He was hugging him. He was –

Meng Yao’s knees went weak, weak enough that he couldn’t stand, and he collapsed down onto his own knees, suddenly hugging Nie Mingjue back as hard as he could. “You forgive me?” he croaked. “I thought – you didn’t even look at me. You didn’t say anything!”

Not in the throne room – not for months.

“How could I say anything?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Meng Yao could feel his tears against the side of his face. “You’re always telling me that I’m a terrible liar. If I said anything, everyone would know – I couldn’t ruin things for you, not when you were in such danger.”

“You – you worried –”

“You told me to trust you,” Nie Mingjue said, as if the world were that simple. As if it was black and white, justice and righteousness, as if he knew, deep in that shining steel core of his, that Meng Yao loved him and trusted him and would do anything for him. “I trusted you.”

Meng Yao closed his eyes, feeling tears drip down his own cheeks now.

“Huaisang, too,” Nie Mingjue added, as if he knew exactly what balm Meng Yao needed to heal the wounds the Nightless City had left in his soul. “He told me that if I saw you, I was to tell you that he’s very mad at you for breaking your promise to let him help.”

“I let him fight the war,” Meng Yao automatically protested, because he had – he would never have committed to actually crossing sides like this if he hadn’t known Nie Huaisang would be able to do the critical strategic and tactical work on the other side. “How is that not helping?!”

“He says you should think the highest number your brain can calculate, and then translate that into fans you need to buy to make it up to him,” Nie Mingjue said. “I told him there weren’t that many fans in the entire cultivation world, but he said that he had faith in you.”

He had faith in you.

I trusted you.

Meng Yao pressed his lips together, rocking back and forth, unable to speak for a long few moments because the joy in his chest was so intense that he felt it as pain, a blazing light as hot as a firebrand pressing down in on him.

What good thing had he done, in a previous life, to give him such a family? How could Wen Ruohan have believed, even for a minute, that he would have betrayed them for something as stupid and paltry as ambition?

“…let’s get you dressed again,” he finally said, because he couldn’t express his emotions in words right now. “Xichen-xiong should be here any moment with an army.”

“Convenient.” Nie Mingjue’s voice was a bit wet when he chuckled, but he pulled away to start doing up his robes without taking a single glance down at them – he got a few ties done the wrong way round, but Meng Yao didn’t correct him. He suspected these particular robes would be burnt as soon as they were somewhere safe anyway. “Always a second plan, isn’t that right?”

There was never any plan where I let him have you, Meng Yao thought, and perhaps when things had calmed down a little more he would one day even find a way to say that out loud.

But for the moment, they were together, him and Nie Mingjue and even Baxia – Chiwen was on his way, entirely self-directed, Meng Yao could feel his overwhelming excitement about finally getting out of this den of misery as he whistled straight down the hallways as Wen sect disciples leapt shouting out of his way – and then Lan Xichen burst through the doors and exclaimed in relief to see them, rushing forward to take them both into his arms.

“The Nie sect retainers,” Meng Yao said a few moments later, when he could speak again through the tears. “The ones you came in with – Wen Qing is helping me, she’s the doctor I called for. She’s probably setting up to smuggle them to the border as we speak; we should tell her she doesn’t have to bother now that Xichen-xiong’s here…she’s Wen Ning’s older sister, Wen Ning’s the one I sent to you to keep safe. She has some crimes to her name, who doesn’t here, but she’s one of the good ones. Can something be done for her and her kin?”

“We’ll deal with the details later,” Lan Xichen sniffed, nuzzling his hair. “Oh, Meng Yao, I missed you..!”

“We really should deal with it now,” Meng Yao insisted.

“He’s right,” Nie Mingjue said, though he made no move to let either of them go. “This is neither the place nor the time. We can reunite properly later.”

For the first time since that horrible day at the Cloud Recesses, Meng Yao found himself looking forward to something.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste ch. 1-2

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi's Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste's Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi's Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we're all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone's well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila's brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Gabriel decides that Adrien entering a romantic relationship is a good move for the brand. He chooses Lila Rossi as the other half. Adrien nopes tf out.

Notes: I was gonna have it be a slow acceleration, but Adrien was all “Go big or go home.” Also trying to find motivation to write more of this fic.

AO3 link

----------

“No,” Adrien growled. “Absolutely not!”

Lila made a show of crying, not that anyone in the room believed her tears were real.

Gabriel frowned at him from his desk. “This will be good for the brand—”

“Fuck the brand!”

“Adrien! This is unbecoming. You will be seen to be dating Ms. Rossi. That is final.”

Adrien’s fists were so tight he was sure he had crescents eating into his palms. “Like hell it is! I will not date that—” he gestured at Lila “—lying cow. Not after how she’s hurt my friends.”

Said girl gasped, outraged, and Adrien was glad to see she actually looked truly upset.

His father stood, but kept his voice emotionless, calm, self-assured that he would capitulate. “Cease this ridiculous teenage rebellion.”

He saw red, but oddly it calmed him. “Father, you have not seen teenage rebellion,” he said, his voice almost terrifyingly calm. “But I would be happy to teach you what it looks like if you try to force me to do this.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Adrien could see him considering that, but then discarding it. “It will be in the papers tomorrow. If you misbehave, you’ll no longer be permitted to go to school.”

Adrien snorted. He knew more ways to escape this house than his father could possibly anticipate—some he’d made himself, even. “Good luck, Gabe. You’re going to need it.”

He spun on his heel before his father could respond and slammed the door behind him. With the enhanced strength he had as the Black Cat Miraculous chosen, the wood cracked audibly.

As he made his way back to his room, he realized the opportunity his father had just placed in his lap. As the face of the brand, Adrien had more power than Gabriel seemed to realize. It was time to stretch those muscles.

He had planning to do.

---------

His father had spectacularly good timing for pulling this kind of stunt—for Adrien, anyway. He’d heard from a couple of friends of his that a certain rock star was in town. And if anyone was up for promoting teenage rebellion, Adrien had no doubt it would be Jagged Stone.

It was child’s play to sneak out of the house. He didn’t even have to transform to do it. From there it was just making his way to the Grand Paris Hotel. The staff assumed he was there to see Chloé, so getting in was no problem. Jagged Stone always rented the same suite, so that wasn’t an issue, either.

The hard part, he knew, would come after he knocked on the door.

Jagged opened the door, and then peered at him suspiciously.

“Um, M. Stone, I don’t know if you remember me but—”

The rock star suddenly broke into a wide grin. “Oh, you’re Marinette’s model friend, right?”

Adrien blinked. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. His rock idol knew him?

Sadly, he had no time to fanboy.

“Yes, Adrien. I was wondering if I could trouble you for some help?”

And so that was how Adrien Agreste wound up sitting in Jagged Stone’s suite, petting Fang, and telling him about the woe that was the obsession his father had with Lila Rossi, Liar Extraordinaire.

“She said I had a what?”

“A kitten. And she got Marinette expelled and is just being really awful to her.”

Jagged opened a cell phone. “Penny, I need you. Yes, I know I sent you for macrons, but this is really important. Bring my niece with.”

When he was finished, he turned to Adrien again. “We’ll get that taken care of.”

“That’s not all, M. Stone.”

He pressed forward, telling his idol of the relationship he was being forced into and his promise to show Gabriel Agreste just what he could do if he really rebelled.

When he was done, Jagged’s face was gleeful in an almost terrifying way.

“Oh, please tell me I get to help with this?” At Adrien’s nod the man whooped in excitement. “Brilliant. Once my niece gets here, we’ll plan properly. She’s a planner, that one. Smart as a whip.”

Adrien blinked. “Your niece?”

“Marinette, of course! Honorary niece.”

His jaw dropped. Marinette had always had the upper hand on Lila, could call in Jagged at any moment to destroy her, and had held back. He never should’ve stopped her.

“My father can’t know she helped. He’s got so much power in the fashion industry, and I don’t want to hurt her career.”

Jagged waved away his concerns. “Mate, listen. From what I understand you’re the face of that company. You have the power, not him. Get you in some Marinette originals, and he can’t undo the fame that’ll bring her.”

Adrien hadn’t considered that. “I just don’t want her hurt.”

He heard the door open, and then a soft, “Adrien?”

It meant he had to explain the situation all over again, letting Jagged Stone assure her that he was going to pop the liar’s kitten whopper as soon as possible.

“I can stop by your school with Fang, yeah? They can’t keep me from saying hi to my favorite niece.”

Marinette bit her lip. “That would be helpful, but for Adrien…”

Adrien smiled. “I want you to design me a new look. Something we can do here and now—maybe with the discrete help of some of the hotel staff, since they have that nice spa and such. Hair dye, new clothes. Maybe some fake piercings. Oooh, a fake tattoo?”

Jagged glanced at Penny, who looked uncertain about this. “Don’t be a party pooper, Penny.”

“His father might sue you,” she pointed out.

“Like I care. I have money.” He grinned. “And for what? Giving his kid a makeover?”

“French law—”

“Nope, don’t care. It’s happening. Get his sizes and go to my favorite stores. Adrien, what color scheme?”

Adrien blinked. He hadn’t thought that far. He glanced at Marinette. “Um, do you think Chat Noir would mind if I used his colors? I think of him when I think teenage rebellion.”

That was more because being Chat Noir had up to this point been his way of rebelling, but she didn’t need to know that.

To his surprise, Marinette grinned, the smile wide enough to match Jagged’s. “Oh, I like that idea. Chains and spikes? Fake lip ring and septum?”

“Absolutely!”

Jagged made a shooing motion at Penny, who rolled her eyes and headed toward the door, before joining in. “Now how about this idea: black and neon green hair, done to look like a skunk’s stripes!”

Adrien was surprised to find himself laughing honestly at the idea. He’d been so angry less than an hour ago, but this was truly fun. “This makes me think of those J-Rock bands, how they used to dress up.”

Jagged’s phone let out a guitar riff and he glanced at it. “Oh, right. Penny needs your measurements. Shoe size, too. Definitely some stomping boots, I think.”

He handed over his unlocked phone for Adrien to text.

“I’ll call the salon, yeah?”

Adrien nodded, texting the information, then froze. “Wait, Chloé might tell my father.”

That got a laugh. “Nah. They’re discrete. They bring everything up here for me—I won’t be around people if I’m getting my hair dyed.”

While Jagged made the call, Adrien finished the text. When he looked up, Marinette was watching him. She turned pink when she realized he’d caught her.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked after a moment.

He sighed, slumping back on the sofa and resting his hand on Fang’s head again. “No, but I don’t have any better ones. That stupid news claiming I’m with Lila’s going to hit tomorrow. And I’m so done with this, with him treating me like I’m property.”

Marinette looked worried, and he tried to muster up a smile. From her expression, he didn’t manage it.

“Maybe…” she started, then trailed off.

“Maybe?”

She didn’t look at him. “Maybe you should look into laws involving child labor and parental responsibility. You… you might be able to get emancipated.”

That startled him—something he hadn’t even thought of before. He hadn’t even been aware it was an option.

When Marinette did look at him, her eyes were stormy. “He’s so… cruel to you. Maybe there’s legal recourse.”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured. That seemed like such a drastic measure. “I don’t know if I want to go that far.”

She nodded, and he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Plagg shot out of his pocket the moment the door was closed. “I’m so proud of you kid. This is gonna be great!”

“Thanks, Plagg.”

The kwami grabbed the proffered wedge of camembert.

“And think about what Pigtails said. Your dad’s a real piece of work, and you deserve better.”

“I will.”

Adrien could feel the idea turning over in his mind, as though gathering strength. When he left the bathroom, Jagged met him excitedly.

“I have just the idea! A temporary face tattoo!”

[ahoyhairington]

Steve Harrington as a dad: Headcanons

Warnings: dad!Steve, pregnancy, mentions of smut, childbirth, fluff, angst

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I’m back with more dad!Steve content! Hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave a comment or some feedback to let me know if you liked it! Reblogs/likes/comments are always appreciated.

As soon as you and Steve had enough money, you left Hawkins

You didn’t see anything there for you anymore and you wanted to escape the haunting memories of the events that took place there

You both moved somewhere more populated, like Indianapolis

You settle on a small, white house in a suburban neighborhood that has baby blue shutters and a decently sized backyard

It’s not much but it was perfect for the two of you

Plus, being as young as you were there weren’t many places willing to let you move in

You also didn’t want to ask Steve’s parents for money, because Steve refused to be tied to them in any way

You do everything yourself like moving furniture, painting walls, decorating the living room

It’s a bonding experience in and of itself and you both almost killed each other at least seven times because of how overworked and annoyed you both got

As soon as you get comfortable you immediately adopt a dog

It’s a puppy from a local shelter with two different colored eyes and it immediately falls in love with Steve

(It’s also lowkey gives Steve baby fever but we’ll get to that later)

The puppy is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and literally becomes Steve’s best friend

They’re always playing together and if Steve is gone for too long they mope around the house like he’s abandoned them

They also love to sleep on Steve, even after they’ve quadrupled in size and are far too heavy to be laying on anyone’s lap

You always come home to both of them napping on the couch

Steve jokes around that one day the dog will crush him but he secretly loves it

Okay anyways back to baby fever

One day, you’re both outside enjoying your evening walk in the neighborhood with your then puppy when they see your neighbor’s kids playing in the yard

They freak out and take off running and the leash accidentally slips out of Steve’s grip

When Steve gets to them, they’ve tackled the poor toddler to the ground

Steve’s like “Oh shit oh my god I’m fucked my dog is attacking a kid” but really the toddler is laughing and squealing and she loves your pup’s kisses so much

Obviously, you both apologize to their mom that was outside watching them from the porch 

She plays it off and isn’t mad at all and says that they saw you guys walking the other day and her kid freaked out and wanted to play with them but she told them no so she’s glad they finally got to “meet”

When you approach her, you realize she’s holding another small baby, a baby boy, clearly only a few months old

Steve internally is losing his shit because he’s never really been around babies but has always thought they were the most precious things ever

After that, Steve uses your dog as bait to see your neighbor’s kids more

Eventually, you become close with them and Steve is always chatting it up with the toddler girl and bringing her home treats

He plays dress up with her all of the time and they call each other “Prince” and “Princess”

You jabbed at him once saying he’d gotten too soft and he successfully played it off but internally that’s when he realized he wanted a baby of his own

One that looked like the perfect combination of you and him

Steve always thought kids were for people that settled, but now his mind had changed

The kids’ mom loves you both and thinks of you as her own children, so she learned to trusts you very deeply

Which means you’re the one she goes to one day when she has to abruptly leave the house for the day

At first, you regret saying yes because you thought your days as a “babysitter” were over

But seeing Steve come through the door with a 4-year-old girl that adored him leeched onto his leg and a 7-month-old swaddled in his arms Does Things To You

Since the girl is better acquainted with Steve, you let him take her while you stayed on infant duty

You heard them in your spare bedroom

Steve using different voices to impersonate different characters of the game they’re playing

He got more dramatic each time he realized she laughed louder when he did

It made your heart swooooon

But so did Steve’s when he finally got the girl to lay down for a nap and he came to sit with you in the living room only to find you passed out as well with the snoozing baby boy on your chest

You looked so peaceful and natural and Steve couldn’t help but take note at how that’s what you would look like holding his baby one day 

The second their mom picks them up, Steve is already scheming up a plan to babysit them again

Okay now onto the actual pregnancy lmao

You’d been feeling sick for a few days now

It’s a nauseous feeling that never really goes away but you just thought you caught the virus that was going around at your work

It wasn’t until Steve made a poor “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” joke one morning when you were throwing up into the toilet that it even crossed your mind

When you were finally able to get into the doctor’s office, they confirmed it for you

You were pregnant and you didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or terrified

You loved kids and, clearly, so did Steve but how would he feel about raising one of his own?

That night you came home and threw your stuff down, clearly exhausted from hearing such life-changing news

Steve heats you banging stuff around so he goes to see what’s wrong

When you see him you start crying and collapse into his arms and he’s just standing in the kitchen holding you up by your shoulders

He finally coaxes it out of you and gets you to tell him what was bothering you but you being pregnant was the last thing he expected to hear

In theory, he’s overjoyed but in reality, he’s scared

Not only because you’re clearly upset about having a baby and he thinks you don’t want it as much as him but also because he never thought this would be a situation he’d be in

He holds you close for the rest of the night, kissing your forehead and reassuring you that everything will work out and that having a baby isn’t necessarily such a bad thing

You eventually warm up to the idea of having a mini-Steve or a mini-you running around the house and Steve is so relieved and then only gets more enthusiastic about it

He’s literally the perfect partner to have when you’re pregnant

He’s always pampering you and making sure you’re as comfortable as you can be

When he joins you on the couch, he doesn’t even ask he’ll just grab your feet and swing them into his lap and start massaging them and talk to you like it’s nothing

Watches whatever shitty movie you want without putting up a fight

Doesn’t say anything when you get emotional at dumb stuff because of your hormones

(You cried when the dog died in a movie and even though Steve wanted to laugh at you, he just laid there massaging your back until you calmed down)

I also think Steve would grow a lil tummy of his own during your pregnancy

Your cravings are weird and you eat a lot so naturally, Steve joins in which means he gets a little softer in the middle

Steve hates it but it’s really cute and fun to lay on at night

Speaking of bellies, Steve is obsessed with yours

When you start showing, it’s impossible for Steve to keep his hands off of you 

He’s always got to have a hand on your stomach

Whether it’s you laying in between his legs on the couch with his arms around your bump or just having his thumb brush over it under the table when you’re at dinner with friends

It’s just a little reminder for himself that his lil bub is in there

(I also think he looooves fucking you when you’re pregnant but I don’t have time to talk about that rn)

He could sit and feel the baby kick for HOURS

He thinks it’s the most entertaining thing in the world to draw shapes on your belly and wait for the baby to react by kicking

You have to tell him to knock it off constantly because it makes the baby push on your bladder and then you have to pee three times more than you already do

He likes to use pillow-talk at night to talk about what you think your baby will be like

He’s always wondering what kind of kid they will be and what kind of music they’re gonna like and whether or not they’ll inherit his untamable hair

(They definitely do c’mon now let’s not kid ourselves)

I think he gets really anxious for a while over if he’ll be able to handle being a dad

His own father wasn’t the best example and he swears up and down that he won’t be like him but there’s always the “what if” in the back of his mind

The last thing he wants is for his child to despise their parents the way he does his own 

I don’t think he’d bring it up until you coax it out of him, though

You find him out of bed one night standing in the nursery you had both just put together that afternoon and he’s just staring at the crib with a solemn look on his face

You rub his back and finally get him to talk and he just starts crying because he’s kept it bottled up for so long

Steve’s parents were always a touchy subject with him so you know that his emotions and fear are high for a reason

You bring him back to bed and big spoon him for the only time throughout your entire pregnancy

You don’t really mold well together because of your bump but Steve likes it better that way anyway

The rest of the night is spent with you running your fingers through his hair, pressing small kisses to his bare shoulders, and quietly reassuring him that everything will be fine

And it is

Ok let’s move on to when the baby is actually born

Steve goes into panic panic mode when your water breaks

He’s running around in all directions trying to make sure you guys remembered to pack everything and he kinda just forgets that you’re sitting there on the couch covered in amniotic fluid waiting for him to help you get up

You’re like “Steve the baby isn’t coming for like at least 12 hours will you please just help me put my shoes on it’s not that serious”

He holds your hand the entire time at the hospital when you’re pushing even though he thinks you might have broken his pinky

He tries to convince you to let him look at the baby as it’s coming out and you finally agree but when he takes one look at your baby’s head poking through he’s like “yeah no that was definitely a bad idea” 

When he actually sees the baby for the first time as he cuts the umbilical cord he criiiiies 

Like a whole lot

He loved them so much when they were in your belly but now they’re alive and kicking and screaming and not just something for Steve to fantasize about

I see Steve as being a girl dad, so let’s say it ends up being a girl

For some reason, I feel like he’d want to name her something kinda weird but still cute

Something like Violet or Brogan or Aria or Phoebe or Rey

She’d look just like Steve with crazy brown hair and brown eyes

He’s obsessed with her and refuses to put her down

He has absolutely no problem taking baby duty on at night because that just means more quality time with his baby girl

Every time she cries it breaks his heart even though he knows she’s just hungry or needs a diaper change

He learns that he sleeps better with her laying on his chest

And so does she

She loves her daddy and it’s the cutest! thing! ever!

(Just the sight of Steve napping with her squishy cheeks scrunched up on his chest is enough to make you want to have another baby real mf quick)

Steve is always taking pictures of her

Which means you’re always in them too

They’re always candids that you think are going to look stupid and you hate when he does it but later on down the line when your kids are all grown up they love seeing how badass and attractive their parents were and you forgive him for all of the times you yelled at him about it

There’re ones of you passed out while breastfeeding (a common occurrence Steve finds absolutely adorable), ones of you looking sleep-deprived as hell while you’re rocking her, ones of you covered in vomit while holding her at arm's length

You get him back by taking like 1,000 pics of her yanking on his precious hair and random ones of the two of them passed out on the couch sleeping in the same exact position as each other with their arm up over their head

(When she’s older and her friends see the pics they develop the fattest crush on him)

((But bold of me to assume he wouldn’t already be the biggest dilf))

The kids are sooo excited to meet her and she ends up loving them as well

The first person Steve called when the baby was born was Dustin and after that, they immediately made plans to have Robin drive them to come visit you as soon as possible

They’re absolutely smitten over her and they keep telling you guys over and over how proud they are of you

(It makes Steve cry but only later that night after they leave)

You joke with them about how you babysat them and kept them out of trouble for so long so now it’s their turn to do the babysitting

Which they never mind because your baby is just too damn cute!

Robin still teases him about, “What’s she gonna think when she finds out her dad is a big ol DOOFUS?!” but Steve doesn’t take it personally anymore and finds it endearing

I see Steve as being his baby’s best friend

He’s always trying to get her to smile and play with her and he’s the exact opposite of most dads that sit around and expect the moms to do all of the work

He’s super involved with her and always wants to make sure she’s having a good time

He takes her to the park with your dog to walk a lot

And every single person that passes by you three gushes over her and congratulates you on making such a beautiful baby and having a perfect family

It makes Steve feel so good to be validated for stuff like that because he knows it’s true

Speaking of the dog

The dog LOVES HER

They’re super protective of her and bark at anyone that gets too close to her until Steve calms them down

Your daughter loves to nap on the dog’s belly and have them give her kisses

You also have a lot of pictures of them growing older together

When she takes her first steps, it’s when Steve is home alone with her

He’s sitting on the couch watching tv while she plays in the floor with her toys like she always does 

Steve wasn’t really paying attention until he realized he stopped hearing the rattle of her favorite shaker

When he looks down he sees her propped up on the coffee table and starting to take off from it

He realizes she’s about to start walking and loses his shit

He cheers her on and calls for her to come to daddy and she manages to take three or four steps before falling into his arms

Steve immediately picks her up and throws her into the air and covers her in kisses and tells her how proud he is of her and he can’t wait for mama to get home so she can see what she did

Her first word is also ‘papa’ and it makes Steve cry too

She’s such a daddy’s girl and you’re so relieved because of how worried Steve was over whether or not he’d be a good dad

She’s always bubbly and happy and Steve always looks forward to coming home from work, because even if he has the shittiest day possible he knows seeing her smiling face light up as soon as he walks in the door makes the whole day worth it

He’s always getting sentimental over everything she does because he wants to give her the world and he’s so proud of the little human he helped create and raise

Before she’s even a year old Steve is already talking about having another

You laugh in his face like “yeah right” but then you realize he’s serious

You tell him that you want to wait until she’s at least 2 so you can give her the right amount of attention while she still needs it

Literally the night of her second birthday party after all of the guests leave and the decorations have been taken down and your daughter is in bed in a sugar coma, Steve does his best seductive walk to your bed to try to rile you up

“You said wait until she’s two,” he said while breathing down your neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin, “She’s two now. So, are you ready to try again?”

[notasiren21]

Lukanette 24, 86. First day at university/college?

Hell yea bud I gotchu (even tho I have classes in the morning and finished this af 4AM but lol idc)

Rootbeer Floats & Milkshakes

Rating: Teen basically

Pairing: Lukanette

Word count: 3,839

Prompt(s): (24) “Wanna go grab a drink?” & (86)”Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”

Characters: Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain Cheng, Ayla Cessaire

Description:

Marinette’s first day at university comes with a surprise planned by a certain quiet girl off somewhere else for school and her best friend/roommate Ayla. It’s been two years since Luka and Marinette last saw each other and inner thoughts get spilled and fluff takes place.

So many boxes.

That’s all there was to it. There were too many boxes she had carried up and unpacked between her and Ayla that filled their new university dorm room.

In fact, she was almost certain there was a god out there when a student happened by saying he was taking spare boxes to store away for a later time.

She collapsed onto her bed, black high waisted skirt spanning the mattress and covers, pink silk blouse hanging off one shoulder. An arm carefully draped across her face to avoid makeup, lips parting in an exaggerated moan of exhaustion.

“You alright there, girl?” Ayla snickered, folding her clothes and swatting Marinette’s thigh to get her to move.

“If by alright you mean, questioning my life choices and events that led me to here and disdain for being limited to colleges because of my other persona needing to be here for an akuma, then yes. I’m alright.”

Ayla whistled lowly, “Damn, bug. And here I was, worrying about that small thing called tuition and student loans.”

The bluenette sat up in a huff, leaning against the wall with eyes closed rubbing at her forehead.

“Right, that. God, the thought of starting university scared me, but being here is downright terrifying.”

And then she heard it.

“Aw, Mari, don’t be scared, I’m right here.” And there standing was the owner of the smooth and calming voice. Grinning with his perfect teeth and one snake bite piercing ring on the bottom left of his lip, hair more of his natural black roots and electric blue tips, and a few tattoos.

She was screaming excitedly and hurling her body into his for a hug before Ayla had the chance to turn around and the poor boy could blink.

“Luka!” She smushed her face against his middle ribs, feeling the muscles of his now matured figure and the soft cotton blend of his black hooded long sleeve.

Ayla still folded, more than pleased Juleka involved her in a scheme like old times and reunited the two after Luka left for university for those two years and spent breaks being Jagged Stone’s new protégé.

He placed a kiss to her hair, squeezing her tight and feeling his face burn from her presence altogether. “It’s nice to see you too, Ma-ma-Marinette.” He teased, watching as she pulled away and wiped some small flecks of glitter highlighter away from his shirt. “It’s fine, I don’t mind it.” He said, carefully grabbing her hand and bringing it down to rest between them.

“I didn’t know you went here.” God, her eyes were so blue.

“I could say the same. I came to visit because Ayla said she needed help with boxes and Juleka told her I attended the same school and lived in the same building.” He raised their hands, placing a kiss to her knuckles, “This is by far the greatest surprise though.”

Marinette blushes heavily from the gesture. She used to whenever Luka was sweet around her but the time spent apart seemed to reinforce her feelings. She smiled before a frown took over her features. She quickly whipped around to stare at the taller female.

“Why didn’t you just invite him over sooner? We would’ve finished forever ago.” Only receiving a huff and glance to her.

Luka blinked, “Oh, so you don’t need any help?” Great, now he was feeling like he was intruding and a possible nuisance hanging around.

He was about to offer to leave them so they wouldn’t be distracted when the small and petite girl he spent his last teenage years loving squeezed him into another hug.

“Oh my god, you being here is more than enough help. I think I can see the light, is this it? Seeing Luka has killed me with such peaceful serenity I’m able to leave this horrid place for a possible paradise?”

He gave an amused laugh that rushed out of him, staring wide eyed to his old friend with glasses.

“Don’t even bother. She spent a summer with Chloé having to serve punishment by working in her family’s bakery and everyday it was nonstop dramatic monologues until their shifts ended.” She smiled, “It was amusing and did get better as time went on though.”

He only nodded, hating when she let go and moved to put small and casual heals on, long hair falling over her shoulders as she lent to the side, finding solid balance along her bed post.

“Well since it’s a reunion and all, wanna go grab a drink?”

Luka only dimpled down at her in response, excited she wasn’t ready to part ways with him just yet.

“You even have to ask?”

~*~

There was no question about it in her mind; Luka had definitely gotten hotter in their time separated.

His hair was messy in his young rockstar way but still gravitated the urge for Marinette to play with from across the table. His eyes seemingly more of azure than just regular blue when he was younger. Eyelashes and brows black and more defined.

How in the hell did his features harden after two years?

Marinette played with the straw in her milkshake, glancing up frequently to catch a glimpse of Luka who was at the counter ordering a root beer float. She coward every time he looked to her like he felt her stare.

Ayla passed on the reunion trip, saying she was going to go visit Alix and then spend the rest of the day with Nino who attended the same school as them.

“Sorry I couldn’t take you to a bar or something to ease your nerves, I can’t drink.” He said, sitting down and alternating between a spoon and a straw for his drink.

“You can’t?” She was surprised, most university students would frequent shops and stores to buy out the liquor section back home.

He shook his head, the curve of the spoon sitting on his tongue before he spoke. “Nope, alcohol intolerant. Pass out the second it hits my system, I get sick and the worst hives ever.”

“That sounds awful, how did you find out?”

He laughed lightly, “My roommate was in charge of making punch for a party he was going to later when I would be out buying a new release of this one game. He asked me to try it and only told me of the fruit ingredients, wondered if it needed more sugar. Had no clue until I woke up in the campus’s infirmary.”

She grabbed his hand with hers, white nail polish tips visible to him on short nails of hers. “If it makes you feel any better, I had planned to order a Shirley temple or something had you taken me to a bar. Never like the idea of drinking anyways and I don’t have the luxury of freedom to.” She faltered before she smiled at him.

“Yeah, never know when one will need to run across the rooftops of Paris huh?”

She went impossibly still before he realized what he confessed.

“You knew?” Her voice was a mere whisper, eyes growing wide and beautiful mascara lashes blinking rapidly.

He let go of her hand quickly like he just hurt her, opting to lean on his elbows on the hard table and mess with his hair nervously, avoiding her gaze.

“I mean, I’ve always known since I first met Ladybug in person,” he was speaking quietly to avoid drawing attention. “The way you spoke was just, it was mesmerizing and like a song in itself. When she talked to me, all I could hear was you. And one day you approached me from behind and said my name in that way you do that gets to me and I turned around and saw her instead. And I just knew, I mean that day I was more sure than I had been the first meeting.”

The air suddenly turned thick and she didn’t know how to respond until she thought about certain things he said that she could focus on and giggled.

“And yet the people I spent everyday with in class never picked up on it. You truly are one of a kind, Couffaine.”

The hand that messed with his colored locks stilled, eyes meeting hers that were amused and he felt himself burning like mad. Clearing his throat and sipping the soda from the ice cream concoction.

“So, how’s Adrien?” He wouldn’t dare give himself hope like last time when he first fell for her.

“Adrien? He’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“Haven’t you guys hit like your third year yet? When was that anniversary?” He really didn’t want to know but it would provide him a slap of reality before getting hurt again by his own damn self.

She giggled again, head hanging low and bit her lip in a way that made his chest tighten. “I wouldn’t know. We broke up a few months into our first year because we just weren’t made for one another. We’re still great friends and that’s all we are to each other. Nothing more.”

Ah fuck...the hope is seeping in.

“Huh, didn’t see that coming.”

She added some sprinkles to her shake that sat on the ice cream parlor’s table besides the napkins. “We were younger, thinking everything made sense and it would work out. In reality, I just had some tween love obsession goggles on that inhibited my logic and real life objectives.”

He was smiling now, arms folded with one able to eat the soda flavored ice cream, “You really grew up, huh?”

“I could say the same to you. Wonder how a Viperion would look today than from two years ago? Sexier? More fitted? Definitely hotter no doubt.” She flashed a smile and her shoulders shook when he coughed harshly and choked on his spoonful, looking at the way the red traveled down to his neck and his eyes shook in panicked awe of her. “You okay there, Vipey?”

“Vipey?” He hit a fist to his chest, drinking the soda at the top again. Questioning that one little thing was far easier to draw attention to her teasing compliments.

She waved him off like that new nickname wasn’t twisting his heart in the most delicious pain he ever felt. “Always wanted to call you that but Chat was such a jealous and possessive thing back then, I was afraid he’d claw you to bits if I gave you your own pet name.”

Did she really not know what she was doing to him?

Wait.

“Okay, I get it. It’s a cute name.” He leaned towards her again, “On another note, is this you confessing that Chat Noir is Adrien? Because I kinda already figured.”

She gaped before smiling, “You’re just too good, aren’t you?”

“Not really. I mean, a socially repressed kid who lives by a set of rules and is made to be perfect all the time suddenly gains powers, and what is he expected to do? I would think look untamed and be unfiltered as much as possible. It wasn’t that big of a leap when I knew she was you. Well, a small fraction of you at least.”

Marinette ignored the last part. “You know, most people love to say her name. Ladybug’s. Why don’t you?”

His dark brows furrowed before he held a spoonful of his ice cream up to her lips, still leaning forwards and meeting her eyes. “I like your name better, Marinette. You’re what makes her, you’re always Marinette. Why call you by something else unless it’s required of me to do so?” She pretended like the hitch in her breath wasn’t obvious and ate the ice cream, noting the way his eyes didn’t dart down to watch her eat it like most boys would but instead held her gaze, and only dropped to grab more for her.

“What do you mean by that?”

He gave a sad smile, “You’re a smart girl, Mari. Ladybug isn’t who you are, it’s just a persona you created to ease the worries of an entire city that’s heavily populated. Someone you made real to stand up against someone with a power and lust for evil when I’m sure you wanted to hide away like the rest of us. Who you are behind the mask is so much more powerful than the one presented to us because you’re human. You made her to get through the challenging times and give a hero to a city when you wanted to be protected and safe just like them. I admire Ladybug for all she’s done, but I admire Marinette more for the sacrifices she’s made to help Paris and the victims of akumas.” He wiped the corner of her lips when the tinted ice cream caught his attention, his smile dropping. “Every time Ladybug got hurt, my heart didn’t break for her, it broke for you.”

“Me, what why?”

He chanced it and leaned his forehead to hers. “Because everyone saw you gain injuries throughout battle and they cried for Ladybug. Then your purification presumably took away the pain and injuries, but I always assumed some lingered. And that the memories in fact did stay and I wondered how many sleepless nights you had where you jolted awake in fear of getting hurt again, and I prayed to whatever deity there was that you didn’t cry alone in the dark.”

She wanted to cry now.

“People worry about the hero and then the fight is over, then worrying about themselves and the close calls. No one ever stops to worry about the person behind the mask though. I’ve always hated that.”

“No one but you, huh?” They had quieted down significantly and whatever had been flickering between the two had grown to sparks that remained unsettled inside them.

Luka glanced down at their hands that were close to one another’s, taking a deep breath before pulling back. “C’mon, I’ll take you back.”

The walk back was silent, Marinette holding onto his arm that was lazily available while his hand rested in his shirt pocket. He gave her a small smile when she took off her heals to walk through the carpeted dorm hallway, offering to carry the small shoes for her that now dangled from his free hand’s hooked fingers. He watched her step on the patterns in graceful ways, dancing around them to his humming in the near empty hallways.

He assumed there was a first day party raging on somewhere in the building.

They stopped at her dorm, finishing out keys and letting him walk inside to place her shoes down on the rack she brought with her from home. He looked up just in time to see a familiar bracelet presented to him, a snake kwami floating near it and a red one zipping in the back to eat baked goods from home.

He couldn’t find words for how surprised he was, looking between the little god and then her and the bracelet.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Sass won’t mind. I just felt like I would’ve had a great partner in Viperion if I was given the chance to work with him more.”

He willed himself back, “How do I know this isn’t some elaborate excuse to check me out in a skin right suit?” He nearly prided himself when she became equally as flustered.

“That’s only a quarter of the reason why I’m offering, Luka.” She pouted, avoiding his eyes and shifting her weight nervously. He smiled down at her, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his waist as his crossed over her shoulders, cheek resting to her hair again.

God, this felt like home.

“When have I ever said no to you, Mari?” He could feel her excitement shoot through her and the small squeal of excitement reached his ears as he laughed. Letting her pull one arm from her shoulder and slip the bracelet on. “Hi, Sass. I’ve missed you.”

The snake smiled, glancing between Luka and the smaller girl in his arms that was beyond content with the turn of events for the night. “Not assssss much asssss her I presssssume?” Earning a snicker when he winked to the small god.

“Luka, the main reason I asked you?”

He pulled away, letting her sit on the bed on her knees, messing with her skirt in her hands.

“Yeah?”

“It’s because, I’m, um,”

“Take your time, Marinette. I don’t mind.”

She took a breath, “I’ve never trusted anyone with my inner thoughts and feelings like I do with you. You read me like an open book and try to keep it to yourself so I never become embarrassed. But you know the real me behind the mask that most others don’t even if they know my secret, and that counts for something.” She met just azure eyes, “Who better to protect me than the one who sees I’m just as weak as any civilian.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, instead walking closer to her and letting his right hand guide the back of her head to his lips as he placed a kiss to her forehead.

“Is that a yes?”

He nosed her hair, “Maybe I just want to hear you call me Vipey again.”

She giggled in kind, flicking his nose. “It’s a cute nickname for a cute boy who is a cute superhero.” She nudged the tip of his nose again, “With a cute, button nose.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me, Dupain Cheng.”

“It took me a few years to gain the courage for it, but yeah, I guess you could say I am.” She blinked up innocently at him. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“You know it’s dangerous for cute and beautiful girls like you to make guys like me hopeful right?”

“Is it?” She tried matching his height, even with the extra inches of the bed she only reached to his chin while she stood on her knees. “You said I’m smart, meaning I’ve learned my lesson this second time around. It’s okay for you to be hopeful, right?”

“Marinette?” He couldn’t move, afraid he would scare her off and praying to those kwamis he knew what was happening next.

“Luka?” She nudges her nose to his chin, giggling lightly when he shifted down to meet her nose like she wanted. He couldn’t and wouldn’t make the first move, she knew that. He respected her too much to read too far into things she did. “You know I always had this crush on you, right?”

“You what?”

She frowned, tears glistening around the blue hues of her eyes. “I really did miss you while you were away.” He forced a swallow, ignoring the matter that no one has ever spoken those words to him before and the weight they carried to him. “I’m not messing up this time, Luka.”

She pulled at the collar of his hood, bringing him down to her lips as her name died on his tongue and his hands slipped out of the pocket of his shirt to find support from her waist. His eyes screwed shut in fear of it all not being real or worse, her realizing it was a mistake to take with him.

But she still let her hands travel to his hair, giving a small happy noise with the ability to now play with it and feel it between her fingers. That alone coaxed him out of his potential nightmare slowly and encouraged him to move his lips against hers , feeling her smile when he found the bed to sit on so she wouldn’t have to lean up and felt her legs draped over his lap sideways.

He couldn’t bring himself to do anything when she broke the kiss, scared she’ll kick him out or express regret. Instead she gave a shy smile and then pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, hands framing his face before she hugged him with enough force to send Luka tipping backwards into her pillows with her on top of him.

She didn’t move off of him, only brought her face up to rest on her arms on top his chest while he refused to look at her. She held his face again, feeling the heat of the blood rushing to his face.

“Is it my turn to say how cute you look when you’re a blushing mess?” Her impish smile widened when the depths of his blues met hers, his jaw hardening in response to let her know he was at a loss for words. She ran a hand through his hair, noting the way he couldn’t stop the hum from escaping his throat. “You always were the one who got away, I didn’t want to risk it this time around and knew it the moment I saw you step into the university dorm that it had to be.”

He swallowed nervously, fingers twitching on her back. “Does this mean you want to be-,”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend for the time being? Absolutely.” She gave a firm nod, lips pressed in a straight line to make him laugh finally. He tried not to think about the her response and what the “time being” could lead to, hopefully a future together like he always wished for.

“Okay. I want that too.” She grinned, resting her chin on her arms again and staring up at him with an awed look. “What?”

She shook her head, leaning up to peck his lips before darting down to his chest and resting her cheek against his heart, “Nothing, you’re just really cute, Luka.”

“Oh my god, you’re going to kill me.” He muttered, arms leaving her and covering his red face.

“You okay?”

He whimpered, “Peachy. I meet up with the girl I’ve had a crush on forever and have a date with her and she ends up being my girlfriend before the night is over. And she’s the type to shower me in compliments. I’ve sighed my own death wish.”

“While you’re dealing with that, you mind if I turn the television on and catch up on an anime I’m watching?”

He uncovered his face to look at her then the tv across her bed, “Does this mean we have to move?”

She shook her head, moving to grab the remote and he noted he recognized the show already from some posts and expressed interest to himself of it before.

“No, I’m too affectionate to pass up on cuddling.” She sat up to grab a blanket before resting on his chest again, tangling her legs with his and giving a happy wiggle when he hugged her close. “You smell nice, I like it.”

“Fuck, you’re really too adorable, Marinette.” Luka sighed, forever grateful the university he didn’t care much about had one thing he would give the world to and she wanted nothing but him instead.

“You’re adorable too, Vipey.” Giggling when he squeezed her in retaliation and muttered to just watch her show and cuddled him.

[seven-oomen]

Hi Ben!  I see you’re still enjoying the absolute insanity that has gripped tumblr the last couple of days XD .  As someone who’s been a tumblr lurker for a number of years, this is hysterical enough from my side.  I can’t imagine the sheer ridiculousness of seeing it firsthand.  Virtually every blog I check, no matter if they’ve ever seen a SPN episode or not, has been posting about it.  It is WILD.

I feel like I’m at least a little lucky that I always skewed more ‘lock’ than anything (mainly because my 'who’ took a hard dive into Torchwood and never really recovered), so there’s less emotional flashbacks/richochets/rollercoastering/etc.  (Yes, I did in fact see the news about Sherlock season 5, but I never saw season 4 because of some of the feedback I heard before I got the chance to watch it, so it’ll take something truly impressive to draw me back now.)  Although in a roundabout way Sherlock is what eventually led me to Teen Wolf because of multi-focus blogs, so I guess I can thank it for that.

Work was one of those super fun days where the manager leaving not long after I got there was all “Yeah, it’s been really calm, and both deliveries so far have been small and should be easy to deal with."  So of course, about an hour after he leaves, four more pallets full of stuff show up, so I spent pretty much my whole shift trying to get everything checked in.  On the one hand, yay, less customers, on the other, hauling that shit around in a mask gets hot.

That dish sounds delicious, and definitely better than my sad lunch/dinner at work.  Ngl, I’m extremely jealous.

And omg, the last line post now has me nervous again because there are multiple options of who is saying whatever it is to whom, and all of them hurt.  XD  Also very here for the idea of a pack of three year-olds trying to pull a Parent Trap on their respective dads.  Is there a treehouse or playhouse they can lock them into to talk?  A moment of Jax and Stiles pointing out that they both agree on this, so they should know that it’s serious?  Trying to make them draw or write down why they’re sad, or whatever similar coping skills the dad usually has the kid use?  Trying to take away a treat of some sort/ground them from doing something/etc until they agree to talk to each other?  So many possibilities.

I cackled at that coffee shop guy post, because the sheer obliviousness demonstrated by the op throughout the story is almost the exact energy being displayed by Peter in my fake dating fic and seeing a story of it happening in RL about took me out.  XD

Also, I’m super curious what kinds of rituals you’re planning for the fic.  Good, bad, druidic, wolfy, pack, wedding, birth, sexy, friendship, binding, warding, ???  Inquiring minds want to know (whenever you are ready to share of course.  Inquiring minds can also be patient. ;D )

Oh, a funny moment at work!  I was picking up one of the pallets after I’d emptied it, and there was a knot in one of the boards that I almost knocked out as I grabbed it, and my brain’s immediate thought was "Whoops, almost just popped the knot on that wood”, immediately followed by the thought “Oh god, no, jesus christ, PHRASING, tonight of all nights, no."  (I am super sad that there is no one I work with that I could scream about this with.)

Anyway, I should wrap up because I need to leave for work soon.  Enjoy the continuing thrill ride that is this site, and best of vibes for any writing attempts today!  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Okay I’m gonna add the preview to your fic from your last message to this one so I have it all in one message here. Because after writing over 3K yesterday my brain is just really tired and I keep wanting to nap today. Haven’t done much and replying to two messages is a bit much. 

On the flip side, I did update Final Masquerade today and that chapter is almost 7K long. So yay!

Also, my fucking feelings while writing that. Jesus christ on a pogo stick.

And in the spirit of “Oh, did you say enemies-to-lovers?  Sorry, I heard idiots-to-lovers”, here is another preview from the fake dating fic, because I love this part, and it features the first appearance of Fashion Consultant Peter:

“Peter, what the hell are you doing in my closet?” Noah’s voice sounded like it was thankfully more bemused than annoyed, but Peter knew that it could be a fine line to walk.

“Trying not to cry in despair, for the most part. Why is everything you own at least a size too big and some shade of brown?” Peter called back over his shoulder, still staring at the somewhat neatly organized rainbow of dull, listless neutrals in growing dismay.

“I’m wearing a green shirt right now, asshole, and not all of us are interested in looking like we got squeezed into our clothing by force. Some of us actually acknowledge our age, and try to dress somewhat appropriately. Some of us also understand the value of blending in.”

“Okay, firstly, age, as they say, is just a number. Secondly, there’s trying not to stand out, and there’s just giving up. Though frankly, I’ve never quite put much stock in either.”

“Color me shocked to hear that from someone I’ve seen wear a cardigan like it was an actual shirt on more than one occasion.”

Peter shrugged as he continued to rifle through hangers and peek into storage containers, though he wasn’t certain that Noah could even see him from within the depths of the walk-in. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” The sigh that answered him held a level of long-suffering, begrudging patience that Peter was far more used to hearing directed at Stiles than himself.

—–

Why yes, there is indeed a trip suit shopping in the story.  Basically, I am cramming in every random obnoxiously trope-y thing I can remember from the few rom coms I’ve seen.  Also, there is so much food in this story.  Like, it’s ridiculous how often there someone ends up eating something.  I’m not even sure where it came from.

I’ve been reading this multiple times in the last few days, it’s just so cute! 

He’s in the closet huh? Is he gonna come out?

Sorry, sorry, I’ll can it XD 

And honestly, I think Tumblr’s 2012 insanity streak is the only thing keeping me sane right now. Because holy shit what a week.

I never really got into Sherlock myself or Doctor Who. I think I saw one episode of Dr. who (with David Tennant I think) and three episodes of Sherlock because my mom used to watch it.

I saw 12 seasons of Supernatural though, I definitely had an obsession with Destiel and particularly Dean Winchester. Fun fact; Cosplaying Dean made me comfortable enough to come out to my friends as transgender. Because I realized that I couldn't hide my gender even if I tried so hard for over 23 years.

And it was Supernatural that eventually led me to Teen Wolf. Well, that and Grimm, which was also a really fun show and really interesting.

Oh boy, yeah whenever a manager told me that I knew I was gonna be in for a very interesting night. For sure, sucks that you had to do that in a mask though. But on the other hand, no customer interaction does sound like it was a nice break in a way. And OMG I snorted!

It’s a good thing we don’t work together, I feel like the jokes wouldn’t have ended. My god I’m still snickering.

And omg, the last line post now has me nervous again because there are multiple options of who is saying whatever it is to whom, and all of them hurt.  XD  Also very here for the idea of a pack of three year-olds trying to pull a Parent Trap on their respective dads.  Is there a treehouse or playhouse they can lock them into to talk?  A moment of Jax and Stiles pointing out that they both agree on this, so they should know that it’s serious?  Trying to make them draw or write down why they’re sad, or whatever similar coping skills the dad usually has the kid use?  Trying to take away a treat of some sort/ground them from doing something/etc until they agree to talk to each other?  So many possibilities.

I do have a bit of an idea to have them go to the cinema with the kids and make them watch the parent trap, which of course leads to all sorts of shenanigans back at home where Allison and Malia are constantly trying to lock the dads in a room together, aided by Derek and Laura because Malia can’t reach the door handles just yet. Meanwhile Stiles and Jackson are coming up with increasingly elaborate schemes for two three-year-olds that involve their dads being locked in tree houses, sheds, and other places. Not to mention, the kindergarten pact.

And I like to think at some point the wives and Melissa start helping the kids as well. I mean I’d really like to build one giant polyamorous family for this fic.

[queertazsecretsanta]

A gift for @mitraki, created by @one-true-houselight!

Some Team Sweet Flips training, and appearances from Magnus, Avi, Angus, and Taako! Some minor voidfish angst

~~

A Robot, a Dragonborn, and an Orc Expertly Dodge Under a Bar

NO-3113 focused in on the target standing ten feet across the room and ran through some basic coding. Since remembering her previous life, she had realized this habit was her robotic way of taking a few deep breaths before doing things; both were processes that normally went on in the background, but focusing on them helped ground her, in some strange way. 

Being a ghost in a robot body had a habit of making her more introspective, sometimes. 

She stepped back, just a little, before hurling herself forward, rolling neatly into a ball before exploding back upwards and delivering a round of precise kicks to the target. It shuddered before her final kick sent it flying backwards, its defeat scored by the cheers of Carey and Killian. 

“NO-3113, that was fantastic!” called Killian, jogging over to give her a fistbump. “You’re coming along so quickly, I remember that move taking me weeks.”

“Thanks,” NO-3113 said shyly. “I guess I just have really good teachers.” 

Carey socked her lightly on the arm. “Aw shucks, girl. You know flattery won’t get you out of cardio, right?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” NO-3113 said with a chuckle. 

Killian checked the clock on the wall before saying, “Though, before that, we should take a break.” Carey glanced up as well and nodded before making her way over to her bag, pulling out a piece of wood and a knife. 

“How’re your carpentry lessons with Magnus coming?” Killian asked, plopping down next to her girlfriend. 

“What do you think?” Carey held up the wood, and NO-3113 could tell it was almost segmented, with a higher, rounded portion at one end. Killian squinted at it as Carey brought it back to a level she could continue carving at. 

“Carey, I think that looks almost like…something.” Carey nudged Killian with her shoulder, who laughed before quickly adding, “Which I think is an accomplishment! I don’t think I could make a piece of wood look like something, you know?”

“Thanks, babe, your support means the world to me.” Even though her tone was sarcastic, Carey grinned at Killian before leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. “And this is loads better than what I started with, so I’m pleased, ya know?”

“My younger brother used to carve little things all the time,” said NO-3113, valvles in her shoulders whistling happily at the thought. “He made me a little cockatrice once, I was obsessed with them as a kid.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Oh yeah, I read every book I could get my hands on. I used to play this game where I’d stand really still and when people would ask what I was doing, I would say I got bit by a cockatrice and was petrified.” The two other reclaimers laughed as NO-3113 added, “That joke got less funny to my parents when I tried to use it to get out of chores.”

It was a little weird sometimes, talking about her life before waking up in a metal body. But it felt nice too, as if there wasn’t a gnawing divide between the two parts of her life. The fact that her friends rolled with it too was just icing on the cake. 

As Carey continued carving and the three continued to idly chat, NO-3113 heard familiar footsteps coming towards the doorway of the gym. Sure enough, Magnus charged in and triumphantly dropped a green, grey, white, and black striped scarf in front of Carey. 

Carey stared at it for a second before looking up. “What’s this?”

“You sent me to take something from someone’s bag without them knowing. I got this from Avi!” 

Carey’s eyes lit up. “Oh, sweet! Good job Mags. What was your approach?” 

“Well, I went up to him and started talking about the secret assignment he’s been doing for the Director…” As part of Magnus’ rogue training, Carey had made up a scavenger hunt of sneaky activities for Magnus to complete (with permission from other base residents, of course). Thus far he had picked Taako’s lock (and found the elf himself inside, stone faced as he shot sparks into the air), followed Merle around for ten straight minutes (and then jumped out and scared him; Merle had yelled ‘I’M FUCKING READY MAGNUS STOP’, to Magnus’ confusion), and now had this scarf of Avi’s. 

Once Magnus finished his explanation (fidgeting the whole time, naturally), Carey nodded thoughtfully. “Nice technique, getting a mark to be distracted by seemingly ‘forbidden info’. Now, before I send you on your next task, I need to check that my associate is ready.” She pulled out her Stone of Far Speech and pressed a few buttons. “Agent Holmes, are you ready for Magnus?”

NO-3113 was confused for a second, not recognizing the name. But then, the Stone crackled. “Uh, yeah, definitely, for sure. This is Agent Holmes, which is my name, and I am ready in the agreed upon rendezvous point.” It sounded as if Angus McDonald was talking through a pencil stuck between his teeth. 

Magnus nodded sagely, clearly fighting off a grin. “Alright, I’ll meet, uh, Agent Holmes. Where am I going?” 

“Cafeteria. He’ll explain your assignment once you get there.”

“Great,” cheered Magnus, bouncing towards the door. “Tell him I need to grab my scarf, and I’ll be right over.” Carey gave him a thumbs up as he disappeared through the doorway. 

She relayed the information, and the Stone crackled again, this time with a non-altered Angus’ voice. “Ok. Was that ok? I tried to disguise my voice, I don’t know if it worked. I read this trick about putting a pencil in your mouth, and I wanted to try it, because I’m an agent today and all.”

“You were great, Ango,” called Killian. 

“Yeah, I was swept away by the gravitas,” said NO-3113. 

“Oh good! Thank you, ma’ams!” Carey smiled as the channel crackled off, then pressed a few more buttons. 

“Hey Avi,” she said, stretching her neck. “You got got by Mags, want to come pick up your item?”

“Aw shit, is that why he was pestering me about my top secret mission?”

Carey grinned. “I’m afraid so, my dude.” 

Some muffled cursing came over the line before Avi muttered, “I’ll be by in a few. Man, you’re teaching Magnus well, aren’t ya?”

“Of course she is, ya goof,” said Killian, wrapping an arm around Carey. Small frills around Carey’s neck rose a little in embarrassment, but she grinned at Killian all the same. 

The stone crackled off again. Carey tucked it away and went back to her carving. She gestured at the scarf with her knife, asking, “I’ve never seen Avi wear this, wonder if it’s new?”

Killian shrugged. “It’s a pretty color scheme.”

NO-3113, upon hearing that, realized she recognized the color scheme. “It’s the aromantic flag.”

“Oh, I think you’re right!” Carey nodded, staring off into the middle distance. “I think I’ve seen Johann with a pin-oh my god, this is probably a present for Johann!”

“That’s the best!” Killian sighed. “I need to learn the flags better, honestly.” 

NO-3113 shrugged. “Same. I just remember that one because I had a little flag back home.” 

Killian and Carey looked up in surprise. “I didn’t know you were aro, NO-3113.”

“It just never came up, I guess.” NO-3113 felt her fans running a little faster. She had only just started coming out before her death, and it had kind of fallen to the wayside after her robotic awakening. It was all still new, in the grand scheme of things. 

“Well,” Carey said, leaning forward, clearly used to this speech. “The moon base is super accepting, as you’ve hopefully noticed. Garfield will order any pride stuff you want up here, and we have a Queer meetup every month!”

“The next one’s next week,” Killian chimed in. Carey nodded enthusiastically. “If you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

“Yeah, I think that’d be great. Thanks.” NO-3113 looked down, fans still whirring in the excitement. She saw where Killian and Carey has put gold star stickers on her torso, and had a thought. “Hey, I could probably get a pretty rad aro sticker.”

“Hell yeah!” As Carey cheered, Avi came in, his normal grin on his face. 

“I hear an item of mine has been recovered?” Carey held up the scarf. Avi suddenly blushed, quickly saying, “Oh, I’m glad I’m getting it back now, I need it in like, twenty minutes.”

“It’s for Johann, right?” 

Avi blushed deeper. “Yeah, he was saying he hadn’t had a chance recently to get any pride stuff, so I figured…”

Killian stood up and patted Avi on the shoulder. “That’s so sweet, I’m sure he’ll love it.” Avi grinned appreciatively. 

“Was it hard finding aro stuff?” Asked NO-3113. “I’m gonna try and get some stuff soon.”

“Nope! Garfield has a pretty complete catalog.” Avi bounced a little. “If you’re comfortable with it, you should tell Johann you’re aro too, he’ll appreciate the company.”

“For sure, yeah! I’m planning on going to the meetup next week.”

“Radical!” Avi took the scarf and wrapped it up. “Well ladies, I best be off. Places to see, things to do-“

“Scarves to give,” said Killian with a grin. Avi made finger guns at her before walking out with a final wave. 

Once Avi had left, Carey, Killian, and NO-3113 stood back up to get back to training. Before they could, however, they heard Magnus walking down the hallway. NO-3113’s back was to the door, but she spun when Carey’s eyes widened at its occupant. 

Magnus was leaning on the doorway, clothes ripped. He seemed to be smoking slightly as well, but he had a wild grin on his face as he held up a scroll, which appeared to be miraculously undamaged. 

“Magnus, are you good?” Asked Killian. 

“Yeah! That was the best challenge yet!” As Magnus chattered enthusiastically, Angus slipped into the room, a slightly sheepish grin on his face. 

Carey turned to the small boy with a grin. “How was the mission, Agent Holmes?”

Angus straightened up a little. “Um, well…” He scrunched his eyebrows together before saying in a low voice, “Ma’am, I don’t have my pencil for my voice.” 

“You don’t need it, kiddo. You don’t need the cover anymore.”

“Oh, ok! Well, I prepared a few spells, with the help of Agent, um, Umbrella-“

At that point, Taako pokes his head into the door. “Agent Umbrella?”

“I was under pressure!”

Taako grinned and mussed with Angus’ hair. “I’m messing with ya, Ang- Sorry, Agent Holmes. Proceed with your report.”

Angus nodded and continued, “The subject was surprised by the addition of magical elements, and stepped right into the fire bolt trap, but adapted quickly and, as you can see, procured the scroll.”

Carey nodded. “Very good, Agent Holmes. Now, Magnus,” she said, turning to her student. “What have we learned from this exercise?”

“How to avoid being set on fire!” Before Carey could respond, he quickly added, “And, probably more importantly, to never assume you know what you’re stepping into.”

“Very good,” Carey said approvingly. “Alright, I think we can be done for the day. Nice scarf, by the way.” NO-3113, who had been distracted by the smoke coiling from his hair, finally noticed the trans pride scarf around his neck. 

“Oh thanks! Someone made it for me a while ago, and it’s still going strong.” A shadow passed over his face. “I think it’s a matching set, actually, I just can’t remember who…” At that point, Taako got a similar look, and NO-3113 remembered Carey and Killian telling her in a low voice her first day here that these two, along with Merle, had strange moments like this, and that the best thing they found to do was let them work through it, then continue the conversation when they were ready. 

It was only a few moments later that Magnus and Taako shook themselves out of whatever had taken hold of their minds. “But yeah, I’m all about pride scarves! They keep me warm, and they have rad colors!” 

“Yeah,” Carey responded, easily sliding past the lapse. “Avi’s getting an aro one for Johann.”

“Oh, those two are adorable,” sighed Taako. “Are they together, or still dancing?”

“Still dancing,” said Killian. 

“Speaking of adorable,” Magnus said in a teasing tone. “That Kravitz seemed to-“

Taako looked down, fidgeting with seam of his coat. “Oh you know, fighting like that just, you know, the tension, the mystery-“

“The accent.” Taako summoned Mage Hand and shoved Killian, who cackled. “Ok, ok, I’ll stop, sorry Taako.”

“It’s fine,” mumbled Taako. “It’s just been a while, I guess.” 

Magnus, who has been grinning at the banter, suddenly got a look of consternation on his face. “Wait, Angus said you helped him, Taako?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Why were you setting me on fire?”

Taako scoffed. “Oh, so it’s ok when the ten year old does it, but when I do it-“

“We’re teammates, don’t you want me ready-“

“Hey, I just want to make sure you’re properly trained!” Magnus threw up his hands at that, and the others in the room were chuckling. Taako shrugged. “Besides, I trust Angus. He wouldn’t have let you get hurt.”

Angus beamed. “Thank you, sir!” 

“Alright, alright,” said Killian, looking at the clock. “We’ve gotta get back to training, so unless you want to do some pushups, we’ll see you later.”

“Absolutely not,” said Taako, backing towards the door. “Come on, Angus, you have to tell me about your magics.”

“Bye! See you all later!” Angus called with a wave, following Taako out the door. 

Magnus looked at Carey. “Am I good?”

“Yeah! Good work today, I might stop by later to do carving stuff.” Magnus gave her a thumbs up, gave a salute to Killian and NO-3113, and walked out. 

NO-3113 watched the door for a little bit, basking in the happiness of all her new friends. She jumped a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Killian was standing next to her, head cocked. “What’s the goofy grin for?”

“I’m just happy I get a chance to have this life, to know all of you.” NO-3113 looked away, but not before seeing Killian and Carey exchange a pleased look. 

“We’re glad we get to know you too, NO-3113.” Without warning, Carey stepped forward and hugged her, Killian joining in a moment later. NO-3113 hugger back, careful not to crush her friends. 

Carey looked around at the three of them before throwing her head back and whooping, “Team Sweet Flips forever!” Killian and NO-3113 cheered too, and then they went back to training, their movements and their hearts ever more in sync.

[ibroughtanarsenal]

shakespearean

WHO: Roy and Jason (@thatsjasonfkntodd​​) WHERE: The hospital. WHEN: Backdated to April 29th, 2020. WHAT: Jason sneaks into the hospital like a fool.

JASON: As soon as Dick had sent that text, Jason had wanted to go to the hospital. On an ordinary day when everything wasn’t already upside down, he would have. But so far, all within just a few hours, he’d left a handful of bodies at the docks with Deathstroke, got roped into Kiteman and Joker’s scheme, and had his identity revealed with a god damned puppet. So as much as he wanted to go make sure Dick wasn’t just sugar coating everything to keep him away, he did not want to spend the rest of the day (or longer) being hauled in for some kind of interrogation.

After exercising an uncharacteristic amount of patience, he entered the hospital well after visiting hours and when the nursing staff would be making fewer rounds into patient rooms. It took hugging a few walls to get where he needed to go without being stopped, but he was eventually able to let himself into Roy’s room. It immediately reminded him how much he hated hospitals - the sterile smell, the cold, the glow and sound from machines. Hospital gowns also just had an uncanny way of making anyone wearing them look helpless, and he hated that the most.

Roy looked like he was sleeping, so Jason closed the door silently behind him and walked over to drag one of the chairs closer to the bed. “Probably can’t stay long,” he said in a low voice, not loud enough to wake him if he was actually asleep.

ROY: By the time the park was secure enough for EMS to get to them, Roy had been too out of it to give them much information other than his name. He barely remembered reaching the ambulance at all. The next time he was aware of his surroundings it was hours later. He woke up in the hospital, with Dick in the room, and over the next hour he asked more questions than he was able to answer.

Jason's identity was out. He couldn't remember the details about how it happened, just that it did, and that was the only thing that mattered. He wasn't expecting him to come to the hospital because of the possible risks involved. There wasn't much he could do but sleep. They'd given him something for the pain while he'd been out. He felt it immediately upon waking. The first thing he should have done was tell the nurses his history, he fucking told people that all the time, but the light, calm feeling felt good. He could just let himself have it for today.

He was drifting in and out when Jason's voice broke through the haze and Roy opened his eyes, confused. When he saw that he was actually there, he sat up on the elbow that wasn't bandaged, and thought the lights were much too bright in here. "You shouldn't be here." It was a damn relief to see him, though, after hearing how the day played out. JASON: He moved to the edge of the chair and sat up straighter. Just to do something with his hands, he caught the edge of the blanket they’d draped over Roy. Those things were always too rough in a place where comfort would’ve actually done some good. He didn’t even like looking at them. They were always some sickly pastel color.

“Yeah, yeah, already got that from Dick so don’t waste your breath. I was careful coming in.” The last thing he’d wanted to do was get caught before he even made it to the room. He’d have to face everything sooner or later, but he was fine with it being later. “I didn’t know if he was just feeding me bullshit to keep me from coming, but it doesn’t look like you’re dead.” ROY: "He told me what happened." At the... theater? Maybe?  Roy didn't add that detail just in case he wasn't remembering it correctly. It didn't matter. What mattered was the people who'd be gunning for Jason now that he knew who - and where - he was. He didn't care so much about the local SCPD. Dick hadn't done anything. Not yet, anyway.

He snorted softly and let his arm rest on the plastic railing. "Shouldn't be here long. The whole thing... stupid. I was meeting some lawyer about a patient. Guy got both of us." It took him entirely off guard and he hadn't been prepared for a random gunman in the park. "Couldn't go out like that. Too anticlimactic." He closed his eyes, trying to focus, and took a deep breath. "What are you gonna do, Jaybird?" JASON: “Bleeding out from a shoulder wound would’ve been a real let down. I’d bring you back just so you could put on a better show.” He have a humorless little snort of laughter. While he was no stranger to joking about death, and it was usually even his first choice, right then he was in no mood to think about Roy getting killed. He hadn’t even been around. He’d been at the damn docks, fighting some idiot gang members. Dead ones, now, which was a much bigger problem for him than it had seemed like at the time,

Jason ran his free hand down his face and sat forward far enough that his forehead almost rested against Roy’s arm. “I’ll figure it out. Get my shit out of my apartment though, that’s for sure.” While he did have some added security there, it wasn’t nearly enough. Red Hood had been active for years and he’d pissed off a lot of people. Sometimes they managed to track him anyway, but with his name? His real name? He was going to have to come up with a much better strategy to avoid them. ROY: "Appreciate the sentiment." Roy had to joke about it after being with Foggy for the last couple hours. He tried to keep him distracted by asking him questions, but even that stopped working eventually. Not having his phone on him was the biggest annoyance. He thought he'd be at the park for ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops. As far as he knew it was still in the car where he'd left it. Plugged in, too, since he had the tendency to let it die for hours.

Frowning, he didn't ask if Jason were going to leave the city. Roy just assumed he would have to. It seemed like the safer option. He opened his eyes when he heard Jason move, watching him for a few seconds without speaking, but then he sighed quietly and moved his hand back just enough that the tips of his fingers brushed over Jason's temple. "Don't drag your feet. If I get out of here only for you to go in, I'll be pissed." He did wonder before if Jason's name was still legally useable, but it wasn't a question he'd ever asked. JASON: “Funerals suck, so I’d appreciate you keeping up the trend of not making me go to one.” He swallowed as he felt Roy’s hand and abruptly reached up to catch his fingers. Of course some kind of bullshit was going to happen right when he was trying to start over with something he wanted. Story of his life.

“I just need to get an actual safehouse together in the city. There are places. I wasn’t counting on needing one yet,” but he could do it. “Gotta figure out where to lay low until then.” Loathe as he was to admit that Dick was right about keeping a low profile, it was the only real option for a little while. He had an idea, but it made him want to throw up. It might be the best one. ROY: Roy laughed softly. "Deal." He definitely didn't plan on dying anytime soon, although he was well aware it was a difficult promise to keep in a city like this. When Jason caught his fingers he pressed the side of his hand, the touch oddly sobering. He didn't really want to joke about it anymore. Even though he did his best to write off Foggy's talk of death, it did make him think about the things he hadn't said.

"You want to stay here?" It wouldn't have mattered to him. Roy wasn't the type who got attached to jobs or apartments or cities. If Jason wanted to go then he would go, but he knew he could have his own reasons to stay. JASON: “I don’t know if I want to, but I’m not leaving while that fucking clown still thinks he can just pick us off like flies.” He’d already gone after Damian, and Steph had a run in with him, too. Jason wasn’t going to tuck tail and run just because Joker had decided to out him (and all the rest of them). Jason wasn’t letting him win.

More than that, and more than he was going to say, was that Roy was...settled. At least a little. He had the rehab clinic. He was doing alright. Jason both didn’t want to upend that or walk away from it when he’d just walked back into it. “I’m sticking around,” was all he ended up saying. ROY: Family dynamics were complicated. Roy knew that better than most. Oliver hadn't shown his face in his own city the entire time he'd been here, not that he expected him to, but having Dinah around again made him feel more attached than usual. It bothered him that Joker had the obsession with Bruce and anyone who'd ever sidekicked with him. There were a lot of targets, but Jason was the only one he'd ever killed. From what he'd heard from Dick, it seemed like Joker could have killed Damian and chose not to. It made him wonder what the endgame was supposed to be.

He finally nodded, frowning. "Okay, just..." There were a lot of things he wanted to advise him to do, remind him about, but Jason knew it all already and he'd be wasting his breath. It was hard to keep his thoughts straight. "Be careful," he finally said, his voice quiet. JASON: “Pft, me? I’m always careful. Jason Careful Todd.” An absolute lie, but what he didn’t plan on doing was dying again anytime soon. It hadn’t been a cakewalk the first time around and he wanted at least another decade or two before the sequel.

He shifted the hold that he had on Roy’s hand and turned his head to press his lips against the other’s palm. The whole day had been so fucked, and capping it off with Dick telling him Roy was shot had jarred him enough for some uncharacteristic sentimentality. “Just don’t get too comfortable in here. Whole place gives me hives and the windows don’t open.” ROY: "That's some bullshit." Roy didn't worry about Jason because he knew he was capable, but he wasn't dumb enough to think he was ever careful. Sometimes he got cocky. They were both a little guilty of that. It didn't help that the enhanced abilities Jason had from the Pit wouldn't be there to serve him.

He bit the tip of his tongue when he felt how Jason kissed his palm, his fingers moving against his jaw even in the few seconds his hand was there, and it was much harder not saying what he'd thought to say (not just now, but in the past). The words might sound slurred and he didn't want it to sound like that. "Guess that means you can't scale my wall like some tragic Shakespearean figure. Must be killing you." JASON: It was some bullshit, but he still didn't plan to be reckless. He wasn't incapable of laying low, it just wasn't his preferred method of...anything, really. Jason didn't run from problems if he couldn't plant himself right in front of them. This problem, though, was impossible to see the entire scope of on day one. He wasn't going to gamble with it.

He smirked, unable to help it. The day was too heavy. "With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt." He let go of Roy's hand and pressed his palm against his own chest, reciting Romeo's words by rote. Why the fuck he remembered them rather than using that space for something more useful or that he cared about, he had no idea, but they were in there anyway. He just wanted to see the reaction. ROY: The situation was unpredictable. It made Roy feel a little better to know about the power dampeners, even though it was a strange thing to be happy about, because that left Jason as one of the most well-trained people in the city (and the rest of his family.) Maybe this was the best place to be for the time being.

The recitation made him open his eyes and he stared, unable to keep himself from smirking as his hand lowered back to the rail. "I would say I'm surprised you have that memorized, but I'd be lying." He remembered how much Jason liked books. Back when they shared the same space, Roy had even made a point of making room for some. He read from time to time, too, but rarely finished unless it really got his attention. "Careful, Jaybird. That almost sounded like a declaration of love." JASON: Being brought back by Talia and the Lazarus Pit had given him an edge over people in a lot of ways. He was a little faster, a little stronger, he could heal from things that probably would have killed him again, and being taken down a notch was going to be an adjustment if it was long term. Even with that, though, Jason had never let up on his training. He never slipped, never took a break, never let himself be less than in case that was the moment it would bite him in the ass. He’d spent most of his life comparing himself to other people and trying to stack up, and even though that wasn’t the driving factor anymore (not in the same way) he kept himself at a hundred percent in all the ways that counted in the field. All he needed was a roof with a little extra security for awhile.

“I’m full of surprises.” Whether that was supposed to be a response to him having the text memorized or the declaration of love, he didn’t bother to clarify. He wasn’t doing that in a hospital room with a bunch of monitors and Roy on fuck only knew what. Had they given him something? Did he let them? He didn’t ask. It definitely wasn’t the time for that, either. ROY: It was getting hard for Roy to keep his eyes open, even though he was doing his best to stay focused in the present. It wasn't like Jason could stay long and he hated missing out on that small window of time, especially because he wasn't sure when he'd be released. The doctors were optimistic about it, but it was still a shitty situation and he didn't want to deal with the recovery time. He especially didn't want to deal with his co-workers and the comments they'd make about getting back into the swing of things. They talked about things that were a little too personal and he didn't want the questions.

"I know it. One day I'll surprise you, just wait." Sometimes he thought the surprise wouldn't be necessarily a good one. That was something he kept to himself. "Tell me another one." Even though Roy was doing his best to stay focused, he was already feeling himself drifting back to sleep. The soft beeping the monitors did weren't exactly helping, either. JASON: “What, you want more Shakespeare?” Jason remembered bits and pieces more. Roy looked like he was on his way out, though, so he didn’t spend too long thinking about it. In all likelihood, he only had a couple of minutes before the nurses would start making their nightly rounds and he’d have to slip out.

He reached forward and idly straightened the corner of the blanket that covered Roy’s leg closest to him before reciting the next piece, with less gusto and mocking than the first time around. “I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; And but thou love me, let them find me here: My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.” Maybe now that it had served some purpose, he could dump it from his head and put something more useful there. ROY: "Yeah." Roy's voice was barely audible, but he knew he wanted Jason to keep talking so he had something in his head that wasn't machines.

Even though he tried to listen, it was difficult to understand the meaning behind the words when he was slipping into unconsciousness. It was something he would remember later with surprising clarity, however. By the time Jason finished speaking he was already asleep. JASON: Jason stayed about half a minute longer, until he was sure that Roy was well and truly out, before he got to his feet and pushed the chair back into place against the wall. He paused by the bed and pushed back an errant red curl before making his exit. Sure enough, he narrowly missed the night nurse heading toward his room.

[phcking-detective]

1. Caught Dead with a Beretta

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 1/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: suicide, death / murder, verbal hazing

Link on AO3

***

Gavin's sick of working suicides—they're depressing as hell and aren't going to do anything for his promotion. He's just got to the crime scene already wants to go home. It's fucking ass'o'clock��in the morning, and he hasn't slept worth shit, so of course Nines texted to let him know about the scene the second he'd finally dozed off. 

The elevator ride up to the two thousand square foot loft gives him enough time to get hit with shit, did I take my meds before I left home? Fuck. Maybe? 

Goddammit. Maybe he should switch to those patches and gels instead of a weekly injection. Taking his T is the one thing he never, ever forgets, so if he switched to something he could do daily and took his meds for the BPD and ADHD at the same time … 

The elevator doors ding open, ruining his train of thought. Nines is here already because he doesn't fucking sleep, apparently. That hot fuckboy he sucked off once—and the beat cop for this side of town—Brayden, is in there too, but Gavin's most recent bout of soul-crippling insomnia has actually worn him down too much to be horny. 

Well, too much to put forth the effort for flirting, at least. 

"—huh, Nine Thousand?" Brayden says as Gavin walks up. 

Nines doesn't respond. 

"He's RK nine hundred," Gavin says. "Not like the meme. Super disappointing." 

Brayden grins. "Yeah, but I mean like, the movie." 

"Nine thousand?" 

Gavin frowns, trying to force his stupid idiot brain to think. All he can come up with is 300. Maybe it's a movie based off of that one book? The like, underwater … and submarines. Something-number thousand leagues under the sea? No fuck, that's not nine thousand. 

"Two thousand," Brayden says. "And one." 

Shit, is that the number of leagues or the title of the movie? 

"Man, I am way too fucking tired." Gavin waves him off. "I'm not even into that film shit. I just like action movies." 

Brayden heaves a deep sigh. "I've seen your file, Gavin. You're too smart to willingly lump yourself in with the uneducated masses." 

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks before Gavin can reply. 

Brayden flinches a little. The only reason Gavin doesn't get scared himself is because he's gotten used to Nines not breathing or moving—until he suddenly does. Makes people jumpy as shit to realize they forgot about the giant fucking android just standing there.  

Not blinking. Or breathing. 

"Go ahead," Brayden says with a sweep of his hand, like he didn't just jump half a foot. 

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks instead of complying. 

"Yeah, sure," Gavin grants permission. 

Nines proceeds. Gavin tries to hold back a smirk. Brayden's the pretentious kind of asshole who loves explaining shit no one cares about, but he's pretty hot too, and Gavin's not quite ready to burn that bridge to Terra-dick-bia by pissing him off. No, that sounds terrible. The bridge to … mm, dick. 

Damn, he's tired. 

He follows after Nines, a little worried he might wander off in his sleep-deprived state and get lost in all this square footage of prime fucking real estate. Even saints would have to work to feel sorry for dead people as rich as this. 

Finally, he stumbles into a section of the open floor plan that seems to function as the living room. There's a flat screen tv nearly as big as the wall it's mounted on, a coffee table made from a whole chunk of mahogany with a half-full tumbler, and a dead guy sitting in a chair with a gun in his hand and a hole in his head. 

The TV still blares out the news, and the vic's own face flashes out at them. 

"This the Ponzi scheme guy?" Gavin asks. 

"Maverick Russell, age forty-seven." Nines shoves a finger inside the vic's mouth with no shame or preamble. "Blood alcohol level point-oh-nine-seven. The entry wound in his head appears to be consistent with a nine millimeter Beretta." 

He takes a small packet out of his Cyberlife jacket pocket and somehow has the coordination to open it one-handed. Gavin wrinkles his nose at the antiseptic smell as Nines sanitizes both hands with the wipe, even though he only touched the vic with one finger. Then he lifts that same finger to the victim's head. 

"Hey!" Gavin barks. "What have I told you about that shit?" 

Nines stares back at him with that unblinking, lizard-eye look. He touches his finger to the entry wound but doesn't push it in. Just brushes it back and forth, which is somehow way freakier. 

"The entry wound in his head is consistent with a nine millimeter Beretta," Nines says. 

"Great." 

Gavin walks a perimeter around the designated living room space. At first it's just to keep himself awake, but by the second circle, he's got one of those gut feelings. Something about this scene is off. Fuck if he can tell what though, 'cause the victim was drunk, watching his own demise on the news, and has a bullet in his head from the gun in his hand. 

"You feel that?" He asks. 

Nines cocks his head to the side. "The circulating air temperature is seventy--" 

"No." Gavin huffs and starts on another circle. "Do you like … you feel what I’m feeling?" 

"Your question is incomprehensible." 

Gavin sighs and grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes. He bites back a comment about this being why androids can't make good cops. Fuck knows why he's bothering to be nice now. He just wants to get this shit done and go home. 

When he opens his eyes, everything swirls with black spots in front of him. What's bugging him about this? The guy is dead, the gun is in his hand, the news says—

Gavin blinks the spots away and stands in front of the vic. Fake tan, but high enough quality that it'd look real if he didn't live in fucking Detroit. Decently fit, and the open kitchen on the other side of the room has one of those blenders that cost more than his car. The loft's decorated in masculine colors, all brown and navy and black leather. 

"Go check out the kitchen," Gavin tells Nines. "Tell me what's in the fridge." 

Nines does as he's told, but only after considering it. Gavin takes back the lizard comparisons. He's like a cat. One of those big jungle cats that's smart enough to eat the humans hunting them. 

"Dannon Oikos triple blended greek nonfat yogurt, coffee, four pack, five-point-three ounce cups," Nines says. "Dannon Oikos trippled blended greek nonfat yogurt, peanut butter banana, four—" 

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Just say yogurt. What else does he got?" 

"Yogurt. Eggs. Milk. Sparkling water. Chicken breast. Mayonnaise. Sliced ham. Apples. Protein shakes." Nines opens the freezer. "Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chi—" 

Gavin starts giggling. He can't help it. Nines turns around and glares at him, deliberately flashing his LED red for a second. 

"OK, fuck off, it's late," he says. "I'm like, super tired. Just analyze that shit or whatever and tell me if his food matches any of the latest high protein fad diets." 

"Yes," Nines replies so instantly Gavin wonders if he actually even looked it up at all. "The victim's food intake matches the Eight Step Enligh—" 

Gavin waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. Cool. Does the bar have gin, vodka, and vermouth?" 

Maverick Russell, definitely confirmed for one of those ultra-rich masculine gym types. Not like, an actual gym rat, just that generic rich person level of fitness achieved through liposuction, personal fitness trainers, and the latest fad diet. 

"Yes, along with seven other distinct liqueurs." Nines finishes checking the bar and returns to the living room. "How is this information relevant, detective?" 

"This drink and that gun don't match," Gavin says when Nines returns. 

Nines cocks his head again. "Match." 

"Yeah. I don't see any Bond memorabilia in here." Gavin takes another quick glance around, but the entertainment center doesn't display any vintage DVDs, and rich film buffs are not subtle about displaying their collections. "He ever purchased anything like that?" 

Nines's LED spins yellow for about half a second this time before he replies. "No. There are no significant purchases of memorabilia relating to the James Bond books or movies present in Maverick Russell's finances." 

"OK, then why the fuck does he have a Beretta?" Gavin asks. 

Nines looks at the victim, and then back at him. "That is what he shot himself with." 

"Yeah, but why," he stresses. "Would this guy—this self-obsessed, rich guy masc, desperate-to-be-cool motherfucker—have a Beretta?" 

"It is the tool he used to complete suicide." Nines frowns. "Is there a reason he would not have a Beretta?" 

"Because it's a ladies' handgun," Gavin says. "This guy's got three different TV remotes, a flat screen covering an entire wall, jesus, how old is that scotch?" 

Nines sticks his finger in it, because of course he does. "One hundred and twenty-three years old, consistent with—" 

"Shit, I would've thought this guy was trying too hard when I was twenty and desperate to be cis," Gavin mutters. "Look, I fucking promise you, this particular man literally wouldn't be caught dead with a Beretta—unless he's a James Bond fan. Even then … hey, Brayden!" 

"His input is unnecessary, detective." Nines cleans his hands with another sanitary wipe. "If you would be more clear—" 

His jaw shuts with a click as Brayden jogs over. 

"Hey, you like the Bond movies?" Gavin asks. 

Brayden heaves a tortured sigh. "I really prefer foreign movies, but for an American—" 

"All right, sure. Would you ever kick it with a Beretta?" 

Brayden bites the inside of his cheek, opens his mouth, then closes it with a frown as he thinks about it. 

"What if you were like, a super fan?" 

"Why?" Brayden glances around the loft with an interested look. "This guy have some collector's memorabilia?" 

Gavin shakes his head. "Nah. But why else he's got a fucking Beretta?" 

"Well that's not the drink for it," Brayden says immediately, then scoffs. "A scotch?" 

"Yeah, and he had the shit to make a martini too." 

"Weird. You thinking …" Brayden trails off, then winces. "Ah, shit. We uh, we got a guy a floor down. Said he heard the shot that, you know. But he said it was two bangs. And you know how shit witnesses are about getting anything right, and the TV was on and—" 

"That's shit I need to know," Gavin snaps. "Doesn't matter how stupid you think it is, you're the first officer on the scene, you report every-fucking-thing to the responding detective." 

"Yeah." Brayden clears his throat. "My bad." 

Gavin lets it slide only because now he has something to go on. "Whatever. Check me on the precon for this, RK." 

"Preconstruction running, detective." 

"So we got two shots." Gavin backs up so he's approaching the living room from twenty feet away. "So we should have two guns. The perp, coming in here, gets shot 'cause the vic's only got the one entry wound, but—" 

Nines touches the victim's hand, and then his cellphone buzzes. 

The distribution of gunshot residue on Maverick Russell's right hand is not consistent with a Beretta. The gun he fired has a longer muzzle and larger caliber. My preliminary preconstruction matches it to a .500 S&W Magnum. The victim has four registered in his name.

Gavin closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. Would it fucking kill him to send that in five separate texts like a normal person? Now he's going to look dumb as fuck staring at the screen for five minutes trying to read one paragraph. 

OK, he’s got the fifty caliber Magnum, that's easy to read. Longer muzzle, larger caliber, right. 

"So the vic has a fifty caliber Magnum instead of a dinky Beretta, makes a lot more sense." 

Nines doesn't correct him, so that must have been the gist of the message. 

"The perp gets shot—" 

"Where's the blood though?" Brayden asks. 

Gavin glares at him. "Can you let me fucking work?" 

Shit, he's doing it again and this is why no one wants to work with him because they fuck up--everyone fucks up, he knows this, he fucking knows this--and then he just can't let it go but why the hell does Brayden think he's allowed to speak right now when—

He's not in trouble. He's not in trouble, it's just the loft, being in another rich empty room again. None of them are children and he's not in trouble. 

His cellphone buzzes. 

The floor has been scrubbed clean throughout the loft. I did not realize that was relevant information. I will give you full reports of my analysis moving forward.

That's not too bad to read, and concentrating on making the letters stay still actually helps him cool off a bit for once. Gives him something to look at other than Brayden's pretty, hurt face or the perfect fucking interior design that still feels like when he was thirteen and— 

Gavin shoves those memories aside and starts typing out a reply. 

just text me that shit

I'll prolly yell if u try telling me about the floors at every crime scene

"Am I dismissed then?" Brayden asks. 

Gavin looks up from his phone and can't force out any sort of apology. He never can. And anyway, fuck him. If Brayden wants to get pissy about getting snapped at twice after a legitimate fuck up and interrupting a senior detective mid-sentence, then sure. He can fuck right off. 

"Go get the maid," Gavin tells him. 

"The … android?" Brayden asks. 

"No, the roomba. Yes, the fucking android maid. Someone scrubbed the floors clean." 

And the side table.

Gavin doesn't bother with texting back this time. "That where the blood splatter would have hit?" 

"Yes, detective," Nines answers out loud. 

Gavin turns back to Brayden. "So there's your answer. Get the maid, 'cause I doubt the perp stuck around himself to clean the entire two-thousand square foot floor." 

Brayden hesitates. 

"She's still here," Gavin asks. "Right, Officer Burton?" 

Brayden gives a curt nod, but he breaks into a run as he leaves. 

AP700 #480 913 876 is located in the foyer of the building, along with Officers Miller and Abrahamson. I have sent alerts to their cellphones that the AP model is needed for questioning.

Gavin starts to ask how Nines knows that but … isn't this what he was literally designed to do? 

"She's not a suspect yet," he says instead. "So cool it, Terminator. And don't hack peoples' phones. That's what the officers have walkie talkies for." 

Nines makes a face like Gavin just suggested they all start using smoke signals. He's not exactly the type to go all buddy-buddy on witnesses himself, but they're definitely not going to get anywhere with Nines scaring the thirium out of their one lead. 

Gavin takes a moment to wallow in how much he hates this before he calls Hank. At least if he has to be up before dawn, so will that motherfucker. 

"We do not need assistance from Lieutenant Anderson," Nines says, his expression souring even further. "Or my predecessor. I recognize that I did not meet the necessary level of efficiency when I neglected to—" 

"Hey, this isn't a punishment," Gavin says, tilting the phone down away from his mouth. "I fucking hate Connor too, and when we have an android suspect, I get that's your thing. But right now we have an android witness, and that's his." 

"Ahh, fuck," Hank's voice comes out of the phone. "Sun's not even fucking—goddammit, Reed." 

"We will be at your location in twenty minutes, Detective Reed," Connor's voice says next. 

Gavin stares out into space as what's left of his soul collapses in on itself at the confirmation that those two really are fucking. Not even just fucking, they're sleeping together. In bed, for literal sleep. 

"Nines, tell them they're disgusting," Gavin orders. "You can put way more hate into it than me." 

 "Disgusting," Nines says with a sneer that would put Gavin's mother to shame. 

Gavin hangs up before Hank can reply. "I know you lack the capacity and all that shit, but if it makes you not-feel any better, I bet you five bucks the perp's android." 

"Based off of what evidence?" Nines asks. 

"Took a bullet and kept going." Gavin steps back into place where the perp probably walked in. "He's got the Beretta, but it's just a gun to him. He grabs the vic's gun, maybe disarms him, maybe doesn't even have to after the first shot." 

"The blood vessels on the victim's wrist have not been damaged." Nines starts cleaning his hands again even though he hasn't even touched anything this time. "Why would the human stop shooting?" 

"TV's on, he's drinking, has a gun out already." Gavin shrugs. "Might have been a suicide interrupted by a murder. Might've fired the first shot just being scared, y'know, gut instinct." 

Nines just looks at him. 

"Or you don't know, whatever." Gavin rolls his eyes. "But once he realizes what's happening—maybe he couldn't pull the trigger himself, but now here's someone gonna do it for him. Maybe he just sits back down. That still work with your preconstruction?" 

"Yes," Nines says. "Along with two thousand, one hundred and fifty-eight other scenarios." 

"Whatever. And just like, for the record, don't ask Hank about how this suicidal shit works," Gavin tells him. "Hank might not care, but those are fighting words with Connor." 

Nines doesn't move a single centimeter as he stares silently at him. 

"And don't fucking fight with Connor, we don't have time for it. Anyway, if anyone gets to pick a fight at a murder scene, it's me. So." Gavin walks up to the chair with his hand pointed like a gun. "The perp gets him back down, shoots him in the side of the head, then switches the guns so the ballistics will match." 

"He could have taken the victim's gun." Nines's LED spins a few yellow cycles. "It is registered in his name. The suicide would have looked more authentic." 

"And that's why I'm thinking our guy's an android," Gavin replies. "Someone who hasn't ever seen a movie before in his whole life. Thinks a gun is a gun is a gun. I mean, you didn't know why the Beretta was weird, and if you made A Plan to kill a guy with this gun, would you switch it up in the middle?" 

Nines's LED immediately hits blue, but it's that fake-blue that means he's really covering up a red. Gavin almost kind of … has a feeling about it? 

But then the elevator doors open with Brayden and the android maid inside. Gavin's got a burned bridge, a possible eye witness, and an a murder to deal with. Worrying about his partner's not-feelings will have to wait. 

***

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1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

This fic is also available on my Patreon! $1 tier gets you each chapter a week early, so you could be reading chapter two right now~

$2 tier gets you deleted scenes and bonus content--this week, it’s extra scenes about how Nines was found at Cyberlife and how he gets his first apartment

$3 tier gets you access to the first chapters of two new AUs I’m currently writing--an A/B/O universe in which Gavin is a bitter omega and Nines is his android partner determined to help him during his heat; and a Reverse AU where GV200 “Gavin” is assigned as Detective Richard Stern’s sobriety companion

[thereddeath2093-blog]

2020A_CW-210 personal blog post

DOOM

By Steven Bunch

                 I spend a lot of time thinking about doom. It’s a rather abstract concept to preoccupy oneself with, but still I find myself living a “doomed” life. I listen to doom metal, I watch movies and TV shows full of doomed people on doomed worlds, I fantasize about the doom of the planet and my own personal doom. It even gets so much more specific to the point of absurdity; my favorite rapper is MF DOOM, my favorite super villain is Dr. Doom, I even play DOOM the video game.

               Half of my time spent thinking about doom, is trying to understand what the word itself really means. What is doom? What does it mean to be doomed? This as you can imagine inspires all sorts of philosophical questions about life and death, fate and inevitability, as well as many others. For all my pondering, I can’t really come up with a solid answer or something definitive. Sure, I could go with a typical dictionary definition of the idea, but it is more than that to me. It encompasses too much to be summarized and completed in a single or simple string of sentences. It’s an aesthetic, an ideology, and a state of being to me, something transcendental unto itself.

               The aesthetics of Doom are easily recognized but much like the idea itself, abstract and difficult to definitively explain. There are rather obvious tropes and visual elements that appear in art and media that are representative of what I’m talking about; ruined buildings, smoke filled skies, destroyed cities, dead bodies, anything apocalyptic really. However, the idea is much deeper than that. A piece of art, or anything visual, that can inspire feelings of dread, despair, or hopelessness exemplify this aesthetic in its purest forms. This has a place in the greater sense of the word and the idea of Doom itself.

               The ideology of Doom, unlike a lot of ideologies, is not one that is readily “chosen” in the same way one might choose to be a democrat or one would take up the cause of conservation. This is a kind of mentality that people usually fall into, and more so often than they might realize. Unlike the aforementioned aesthetics, the ideology is easily explained and familiar to most people. While chiefly the mentality is signified by feelings of doom or feeling doomed, it is a little more complicated than that. A true ideology of doom comes when this mentality is reflected out into the world as a whole rather than the individual. More than a simple feeling of personal helplessness, an ideology of doom encompasses the whole of humanity, to see the entire human race as doomed. As you can imagine, this is not a particularly hot-take, especially these days. That being said, embracing this fact would be the key difference between someone who is merely cynical and someone who is waiting with baited breathe for the apocalypse. Which is essentially what I’m talking about.

               People would scarcely admit to themselves, and even more so to each other, that they want the world to end. But the fact of the matter is that most people on some level do. Being a “doomer” has even become a popular internet meme. You get a sense of this feeling anytime someone has a particularly fashionable doomsday prophecy or something like this virus breaks out. People talk about “what if this gets worse?” and “what if this is the ‘big one’?” and they do so in very practical sensible ways, but it’s not hard to see something under the practical nervous façade everyone displays. There’s a part of it that is exciting to everyone. There’s a little voice in every one’s head that says “well fuck, if the world ends, I don’t have to go to work on Monday”.

Now that might seem rather funny like a Sunday newspaper comic, but there’s something deep in the psychology of that mindset. People don’t want to have to go to work, but more than that, they don’t want to be expected to participate in the societal machine that makes people go to work and earn money. Part of being an adult is accepting and fulfilling obligations that are somewhat thrust upon you from outside regardless of how one feels about those particular obligations. People are to a degree forced to participate in a society that they don’t agree with, or at the very least, do not like their position in. An apocalypse frees the shit scrubber and the burger flipper to eat his boss and give a finger to the man free of any guilt of any financial or typical consequence. All of us have someone higher on us on the ladder we wouldn’t mind making a meal out of.

Naturally this all extends outside of working relationships and obligations, but to the far reaches of civilization as a whole. Every person from pauper to prince is well aware, that the “system” in place is not only incredibly flawed and corrupt, but also antithetical to the very human soul itself. Obvious injustices such as bigotry, war, poverty; as well as little things like traffic, wasted time, rudeness, all support the notion that something is wrong .“The system” as your local pothead would call it, isn’t designed to crush people into machines and thoughtless consuming automatons, but one can’t be faulted for believing it so, considering how often said system produces such hollow beings. One of the mindset of “Doom” recognizes that the easiest way for these things to change, if they can be changed, is to wipe the slate clean entirely.

                This is the point where most people will close this page because I’m starting to sound like a cultist of some kind. But, those people aren’t remiss to do so. This is the kind of mentality that leads people into cults. Nearly every cult is a “doomsday” cult of some kind. Even Christianity for all its pomp and circumstance, is hardly ever different. Some of the most colorful and interesting passages of the Bible come from the book of Revelations and the prophecy for the end of the world. That’s how natural this all is, how prevalent it is in the human psyche. We have always been waiting for the end of the world, because unlike most animals, we are very poignantly aware of our own mortality, and this awareness manifest itself in strange ways. The strangest of all being embracement.

               This leads to my final point about Doom itself as a state of being, the embracement of death. Now again, I’m not trying to get all death-cult on you, but there is something to be said for not only accepting one’s own mortality, but embracing it. The fact of the matter is, life sucks, and not just these days or in a particular circumstance. Life, on the whole, is a tragedy. We are born into fragile bodies against our will, bodies that will very slowly decay with us trapped inside them. We are born into families we do not choose, with people who do not know but are entrusted with our entire existence, and then as an adult expected to serve someone else entirely. We are expected to work and struggle and to get sick and to suffer until we are physically incapable anymore. And if you whine about it, there will always be someone to chime in and remind you that your particular suffering isn’t even close to the breadth of suffering humans can experience because “someone always has it worse”. This is a world where a good death is considered “getting old”, which is essentially just fermenting and rotting longer than anybody else.  

               To be “Doomed” in this sense is a recognition and rejection of fighting these things. If we are all going to die, then there can be no “good death”. All death is natural, all the world is transient, a passing image. Nothing, least of all people, last forever. You spend a lot more time dead than alive in the grand scheme of things, and in that, being dead is more of the default state. That’s not to say that this is a suicidal feeling at all. This isn’t some philosophy of suicide in so much as it is a philosophy of embracing the inevitable end of all things. Someone in the “doomed” state of being isn’t going to go out and seek the end of their own life, but they aren’t the kind of person to shy away from it either. They allow themselves to fall away and let go of life’s worries much more readily. There is a reason that coming to terms with one’s own mortality is a huge part of Zen and eastern spiritual learning.

Why would you shy away from death and doom if the world is a bag of ass and you’re going to die anyway?

               After many hours wasted thinking, I have come to the conclusion that this is where I draw my artistic inspiration from. All of my world view is painted with a funeral veil. I find myself obsessed with the aesthetics of doom because I constantly live in that state of being. I can’t help but feel a compulsion to drive this aesthetic as far as I can. I feel the innate urge to draw visions of monsters, destroyed cities, and the sky shredded by cosmic terror so naturally. I can’t help but express this feeling through my artwork. Something within me wants to say to people, or remind them; “hey, not only are things like suffering and death very real, but sometimes they are the only thing that is. They are inevitable and they shouldn’t not be cowered from, but embraced and mastered.”

Now, maybe I’m projecting too much. (I tried not to be too first person, oh well). Perhaps I’m just trying to explain my own morbid fascinations I can’t otherwise do so with. Maybe I’m just too edgy for my own good or it’s because I have a very strong belief in the afterlife. Though it’s not out of the realm of possibility that there’s just some people out there (myself chiefly included) who are just sort of depressing, death obsessed freaks. However, I gamble a stamp, that considering how many depressing death obsessed freaks are really out there in the world, that I’m not entirely off-base when I talk about these things being prevalent in the subconscious of the human race as a whole. I believe something deep in the human psyche craves a change, craves destruction to make way for something new. Something in each of us wants these things no matter the cost, something in each of us, craves Doom.

[redskull-fanatic]

Reasons to Love the Red Skull

Now, I know what you're thinking. I know all of it. All the reasons you hate him, all the justifications, all the go to sayings that make you say "Fuck the Red Skull." However, I'm here to celebrate this character.

I am a woman who loves villains. Villains are my passion and pride, and honestly Red Skull is just the best villain I've ever had the pleasure to stumble across. Many call him a Nazi, an asshole, and such. I, however, am here to put a different prospective on the character. Why those who love the Red Skull do, and why in such a horrible, nasty man, we find joy in him.

Feel free to disagree, to scream and call me names. I honestly don't mind. I'm just trying to tell others why I adore the Red Skull, and why he's my favorite marvel character in history. Bring him in a light that many won't consider.

Btw, I also love Steve Rogers so that should give me some credit, right?

Appearance. Now, I don't remember how exactly I saw The Red Skull, but when I did, I fell in love with his appearance. I really like skulls and skeletons, so his face was already beautiful to me. His whole dictator look is also very nice, and skeletons mixed in with the army is my favorite aesthetic. Red and dark greys also look nice together(I'm an artist so I love color schemes), and I love how he and the captain reflect history! I'm a big history nerd and World War Two is fascinating to learn about. Skull just makes it a lot more fun, just to see him with something from the 40s. Plus, he does bring awareness to the holocaust. Keeps it fresh in people's minds so we don't forget.

Obsession with Power. Skull is basically the definition of "Dictator." He strikes fear into his Hydra army, has a fucking cool symbol for his empire(don't know why it's a fucking octopus if its for an empire called Hydra, but okay Skull), got a salute and everything. However, a big trait about this character is power hungry. We all know he joins the Nazi army, but why? Well, I'm new to Marvel and going off a fandom wiki so cut me slack He met Hitler and talked about his theories of myths being science. Adolf was intrigued, wanted to learn more, and Heinrich Himmler recruited him into the SS. He had his fun there, until eventually.. His views started to change. He believed he was rightfully the superior race, he used any means necessary to obtain a central position in the army. That was, until the serum in his veins made him believe he was greater than Hitler and started to plan to overthrow him. Schmidt doesn't believe Germans are the master race, but rather the superior man has yet to be made. He never personally cared to follow the slaughter of Jews, he was too busy hell bent on overthrowing the entire Nazi party and reforming them into hydra. He used the Nazis from the very beginning, he used them for their resources and getting his name out there. That sir, is top tier villainy.

Attitude. His attitude is the best, to be completely honest. He's determined to get what he wants, he's resourceful, and doesn't take no for an answer. This man takes risks, when he first got the tesseract, he ignored safety, shoved Zola out of the way, and went straight for the controls. And the transfer succeeded. He easily kills off his enemies and adapts quickly to situations. As soon as the Americans out matched Hydra's forces, he simply blew up the fucking place without a care in the world. How much he doesn't care is hilarious. He always looks disappointed and unamused, so whenever he smiles it's the best thing ever. Skull speaks super matter-of-factly, and has the best lines: "I am surrounded by incompetents!" "I would curb that sharp tongue of yours, Taskmaster. Lest it cuts your throat." "And here I wanted to watch Captain America's will bend like a weed beneath my boot... No matter." "You are failing! We are close to an offensive network that will shake the planet. And yet, we are continually delayed, because you cannot outwit a simpleton with a shield!" I mean, these lines are hilarious and great, don't lie. Also, the scene where Zola and him talk about the finding out of Erskine's whereabouts is hilariously awkward. "Shall I give the order?" "... It has been given." "... Good-" I mean, that scene cracks me up. Mix that with the fact Skull was standing there for a portrait and was blasting Opera just makes it more hilariously amusing.

Obsessive in Nature. This guy.. is obsessive. Very obsessive. In my most favorite Marvel movie of all time, he's borderline obsessed with Captain America. He has a need to control him, make him Captain Hydra and be his second in command. I love obsessive villains, and Schmidt honestly fits the criteria. He's been obsessed with the tesseract for awhile, is currently crazy over taking over the world, what's not to say he gets obsessed with the captain? The two are similar enough(one parent dies when they're at a young age, both being an in orphanage, both getting bullied, beat up, and yelled at, both becoming super soldiers, and both becoming icons and symbols in the eyes of the public) so what's not to say Skull gets a little possessive over his enemy? Researches in such depth to learn how to control him, own him, kill him, which ever you prefer. All I know is, Skull is one big control freak, and I love him. He has such a need to be in control that he goes to extreme lengths to make sure all the power belongs to him. What a determined little man.

His Name. Johann Schmidt legit translates to John Smith. That is hilarious to me. It's so generic, like Steve Rogers.

Intelligence. This man is fucking smart, and I love it. He has plan after plan after plan. He has such detailed plans that it's ridiculous. Whenever he is about to act on the plan, he has the pause and explain the whole damn thing. He's so proud of him accomplishments, he has to fucking rant about them to further show off his superior intelligence. He goes to such lengths to accomplish his goals, that I'm surprised he doesn't get a headache with all that over planning. He even has to plan on unpredictable actions to surprise Steve. This man is plan crazy. He's so smart that he sets everyone up as pawns, and lets people do the mundane stuff so he has more time to plan. Anyway, this man.. He's so smart. He immediately knew the tesseract decoy was fake, he's able to see beyond appearances and managed to see the truth behind myths. He created a fucking ray that disintegrated people. He easily cut ties with the Nazi army, and always managed to stay a few steps ahead of the Americans. This man is a genius, you can't deny it.

Subtle Weaknesses. His main two weaknesses are: his temper and his slight insecurity of his face. He gets livid if you use "Red Skull" as an insult, and point out the deformity of his face. Expressing dislike over it is simply a death wish, and honestly I find it endearing he's insecure about it. Another thing is, his temper. He gets so mad, so mad over nothing. The slightest thing can make him go from his usual, calm and unimpressed nature to a fucking angry monster who smashes the window in. It's hilarious how mad he can get, and watching him try to control his anger is the cutest thing to me. He's trying so hard! ;w;

View on Magic. His belief magic is a science is super interesting to me! He even makes his belief a reality, and that's so satisfying!! He even researches mythology, and I love mythology! He proves people idiotic by showing them how real his theory is, and it's perfect. Johann blasting those fuckers calling him mad was one of the most satisfying scenes in the Captain America: The First Avenger.

His Personal Tastes. He likes the finer things in life. He listens to Opera, has a sweet fucking car, did you see how nice the Valkyrie was? Plus, he was getting a portrait done! Pretty sure he was drinking some sort of wine in the movie too. This man has wonderful tastes, and honestly makes his character even better to me.

Subtle Actions. He has some subtle acts of kindness, to me at least. In Captain America: The First Avenger, he was very calm with Zola and didn't really raise his voice with him. Schmidt is honestly very polite at times!! He even tried to be friendly with his first meetings with Captain America, expressing a liking towards his films and trying to understand what "made the captain special." Sounded like he just wanted a genuine conversation, or something of that nature.

Dialogue. Did I forget to mention how great is dialogue is? His taunts with Captain America are so funny and cute at times, like legit they go back and forth: "Don't be a fool, Skull. You can't control that thing! It'll bring the whole mountain down!" "Yes... On you." "You just don't give up, do you?" "Nope!" "It's time to stop playing army, Skull." "You have yet to see my army! Or should I say.. Our army." Like, these two dorks. Their taunts are the best.

He's an asshole. I know he's a dick, but it's funny as hell. He's like an ex, arrogant and bitter. Such a show off too. He's a wonderful villain.

His past doesn't affect him. So far, his past never seems to pull any strings at his heart. That's interesting. He went through such a traumatic series of events(his mom died during birth, his dad tried to kill him, his dad abusing him, trying to kill him again, then eventually committing suicide. Schmidt then was sent off to an orphanage where he was abused and beaten, he ran away at the age of 7, resorted to stealing, was taken in by the same doctor who delivered him, and ended up killing a woman.) He seems to have moved on from his past, or at least bottles it up. It's interesting..

He was inspired by a cherry. I'm not making this up, Joe Simon saw a cherry on his sundae and was like: "... That looks like a skull-" and the rest is history.

Vormir sort of mellows him out. He's very calm, distant, and legit doesn't give a shit on Vormir. I hope his old spirit comes back, but this stone keeper Skull is pretty funny and sort of tragic. I like him lots. ♡

He was created alongside Captain America. These two have been together for years. Fighting each other time and time again, and I only wish to see it continue. Sure, I prefer the more goofy side of heroes and villains. The two having stupid taunts, yet entertaining adventures.

Now, I doubt that is all the reasons I love Johann Schmidt. However, I only summarized all I can think of. I hope my fellow Red Skull fans would come out of hiding and express their love for this character. He's one of the best villains I've ever seen. I can go on and on about how much I adore this character, but I'll stop here. If anyone wants to see my favorite adaptation of Schmidt, and my favorite Marvel movie, feel free to check out Iron Man and Captain America: Heroes United. Its on Netflix. All you Red Skull × Captain America fans will get a big kick out of it, and it's a universe I like. It's more goofy, it's animated in a beautiful style, and so much love was put into it. Came out in 2014!!

Anyway, hope I opened your eyes to a few reasons why this character is great. He's determined, hard working, intelligent, spiteful, and overall so much fun to watch on the big screen! His lines are funny, his personality is interestingly layered, and he's such a great character! A part of me wants to see him succeed, since he's done so much! I'm a loyal villain fan, I'm sorry xD

In villains, we get guilty pleasures from them. I love how powerful Skull is, and his determination is admirable. He's doing a bad thing, but he's doing to super well! If you love villains, I hope you get my point! I also like the subtle things in Skull that make him human, his love for Opera, his fascination with Mythology, his politeness, it's all so charming for a villain fan!!

I don't see many Red Skull fans speak out, so I'm glad to do it! Just a friendly Red Skull fan who wants to appreciate my boy. I'm acting like a proud mom, but I do hope he gets further attention, it's been far too long.

Thanks for reading, Hail the Red Skull. ♡