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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 5 months ago

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Hi! Recently I became curious about how ancient people hunted in the world of TwistedWonderland.🧔🏹🦣

If they didn't have magic in Monster Au, they used their wits and ingenuity. Animal hunting and fishing🦣 🏹 🐟. Pits, a stone maze so for catching fish and cattle.

You can see the reaction to the methods and techniques of trapping characters.

Don't mind me trying to work my way into a good groove and answering asks in my inbox 😅

It’s simply amazing what human ingenuity can do to get a task done, especially when it comes to surviving out in nature! Throw these craft humans into a world of monsters and magic, and you pretty much have what most epics and legends in our world describe mythical creatures and feats of strength. 😆

Once Yuu arrives in Twisted Monsterland, they may start seeing old paintings depicting clashes between humans and monsters. Ranging from spears and swords mistakenly melding into flesh like malformed limbs and claws to wearing leather and gleaming silver armor mistaken as insectoid carapaces, it’s no wonder humans were used in stories to scare little children into being good. These ancient humans looked positively monstrous—perhaps even more so than any monster in existence. Perhaps that is why so many were both terrified and confused as to why this scrunkly of a creature calling itself a human didn’t even match the few surviving paintings from a bygone era.

Pair that with the stories told on how ancient humans would hunt for food or built traps to capture monsters and comparing that to how Yuu looks? It’s easy for the monsters to brush off these abilities of magicless humans as being anything more than just mere fantasy or exaggeration. There’s simply no way a human can build traps and webs like spider monsters, create fire that lasts for days without smoke, or chase their prey for days on end without breaking a sweat!

Turns out, those myths are more true than the monsters realize. Especially if their resident human just so happens to have survivalist training under their belt…

///Camp Vargas///

“Uh…why are you digging a hole in the ground?”

“Making a fire pit.”

Ace glanced at Yuu as they continued to shovel more dirt out of a relatively large hole. “So…if you’re building a pit, then why did you make a smaller hole right here?” he asked, pointing at said opening in the dirt. “And if you’re building a fire, why aren’t you making one above ground? Are you trying to bury it or something?”

The shovel broke the last of the dirt wall between the holes before Yuu straightened up, gathering several long branches they’d collected with several large cuts of logs and starting to set them up at an angle. “Oh, I’m still building one above ground. I’m just making two different ones.” Pointing at the hole they’d just dug out, they said, “We call this one a ‘Dakota Fire Hole’. Typically this one is used for outdoor cooking, since it produces little smoke and doesn’t need a lot of fuel.” Setting some sticks and tinder inside the larger of the two holes, the took a piece of flint and began striking it with a stone. Soon a small yet hot fire was blazing inside the hole, just barely licking the air outside of the hole before settling down into a steady flicker. “The second hole generates airflow, which keeps the fire fueled with oxygen so it’ll burn longer.”

“Then what’s the other one for?”

“A self-feeding campfire.” They began loading chopped logs on both sides of the now V-shaped structure they’d built. “It uses gravity to drop new logs to keep the fire going, which means it’ll last all night. Pretty handy so you don’t have to keep getting up to replenish the log pile!”

One ear lowering in confusion, Ace stared at Yuu as they struck up another inferno on the bottom log. Somehow the fire didn’t crawl or spread to the rest of the logs. “…how exactly did you learn this?” he finally asked.

“Survivalist training. Why do you ask?”

Snap! Twang! “Fynaaah!?” Fwoosh!

“Uh oh. Grim! I told you to stay away from there! That’s where I set up the snare trap.”

“Why did you set it up so close to the tent?!” the chimera yowled as students stared in shock and surprise.

“To keep away intruders.” A sudden cacophony of clattering and clanging rang out, followed by a startled mix of a canine yelp and deer-like squeal before a thud hit the ground. “Epel! Are you okay?!”

“What is this?!” the einfield snarled, twisting and trying to untangle himself from the string of empty cans and bells. “Git it offa me!”

“Hold still, or you’ll strangle your wings! Ace, could you get Grim down for me? The snare hook is on the ground behind the tree on the tent’s left side.”

As Yuu went to free Epel from the new contraption—which Ace heard them comment was their ‘alarm system’—he shook his head in confusion and disbelief. What was even happening? Did Yuu pick up some strange trick from one of the spider monster students when he wasn’t looking? “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what other traps you set up,” he finally called out, warily looking around for more strings and rope near his large rabbit feet. “I don’t want to get tangled up in anything like those two did!”

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t have time to set up any other snares or alarms yet,” Yuu called out, carefully freeing Epel’s arm before working on freeing the rest of his body. “You’re safe, so long as you-”

Shoof! “WAH!?!” a familiar loud voice screamed, the sound echoing so far that it reverberated through the trees. WHUD!! “Urk…HUMAN!!! What foul trickery is this?!?”

“…oh, right. I forgot about the pit trap I dug earlier,” Yuu said as multiple eyes stared at them.

“Why in Twisted Wonderland would you need to build something like that?!” Riddle all but shouted once it sank in what just happened.

“Hey, if a bear comes rampaging around the camp because you guys aren’t putting your food away, don’t come crying to me if there’s no pit trap to keep it busy!”

Needless to say, after everyone was rescued, no one could fathom how Yuu learned such archaic—if frighteningly deceptive—trapping methods for a camping trip. It wasn’t until the last night of Camp Vargas that they understood why when the remaining students used the trap to buy themselves some time from the “beast” before running to the swamp.

/-------------/

Now of course the defensive traps were pretty impressive, Ruggie had to admit that much. But traps that catch fish with little to no effort? Even he was impressed by the speed at which Yuu was able to harvest so many fish in one sitting, and with a simple stick and twine “fence”? Let alone the basketful of fish they’d caught by hand after making a shady spot with a tarp propped over the water!

“Sure, I could use a fishing rod if I wanted,” Yuu commented as they continued whittling away at the tip of a sturdy branch. “A net would also come in handy, but since we’re going to be here for a short time, I wouldn’t be able to make a decent one to use it effectively.” Jabbing their carving knife over at the fire pits they had dug earlier, they added, “Besides, if I don’t adapt and use what I have available, then I can lose out on a good food source and my chances of survival are slim to none.”

“Huh. Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed, the leucrocuta looking between his catch and Yuu’s. The human’s collection was quickly catching up to Floyd’s, which was surprising since he’d stopped earlier due to boredom. “This came from that survival training thing you mentioned earlier, right?”

“Mm-hm! I can teach you a few things I learned if you want.”

“Shehehehe~! Sounds great! Just one question though: what’cha making? Some kind of walking stick?”

“Oh, this? It’s going to be a spear.”

“…spear?” The word sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why as he tried to examine it. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen any other monster use or make before. “What’s it for?”

“It’s used for different things, like defense or attacking.” Cutting a few more chips off, Yuu stood up and examined their work. They had whittled one end of the branch to the point it was needle-sharp, a sight that weirdly sent chills down his spine when he looked at it. “I made this one specifically to go spear fishing. Here, I’ll show you!”

As they walked into the water, he expected the human to immediately strike into the water like they had when they did the shadow fishing. However, they simply stood still, eyes locked onto the water’s surface with the spear raised over their shoulder. He watched in silence, instinctively knowing that Yuu was hunting for their prey yet not understanding how this would work. Suddenly, they tensed, their shoulders tightening as they raised their spear higher in a smooth motion. For the briefest moment, he swore he saw the human with the needle-sharp arm in his history book instead of Yuu, his heart leaping in his throat at the vivid imagery. Before he could react, the spear was sent flying forward-

Splosh!

And struck the riverbed, Yuu immediately rushing forward to grab the upright tool before pulling it out. To his shock and utter amazement, the spear had pierced the body of a large trout, still flopping even as Yuu carried it back to shore with a triumphant grin on their face. Their smile faded to one of concern as they asked, “You okay, Ruggie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Chuckling nervously, Ruggie uttered, “Uh…you could say that.” A ghost of the past maybe, he thought as he picked up the baskets. “Hey, uh, why don’t we go ahead and cook these? I think we’ve got enough!”

“Oh. Sure, sounds good. Oh! I know a few tricks to preserve the meat for later!”

“Great! Just…do me a favor and not point that spear thing at anyone, okay?”

////////

I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more that could be said or done, but you get the picture. XD Hope you all enjoy!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #ace trappola #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #riddle rosehearts #ruggie bucchi #I seem to use Ace to react to Yuu's weirdness more often than not and I have no regrets 😂

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sunnie-angel · 4 months ago

Text

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fic #sunnie writes 🌻

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 1 year ago

Note

Okay the pregnant wife ask was so sweet I couldn't help it! Can I ask for the same thing but with Ace, Jack, Kalim, and Leona? Thank you!!

Ace Trappola:

Ace is kinda wary, wondering if it’s like having ‘that time of the month’ and if he had to be careful about what he said to you. You think he does try to be a little more thoughtful than normal, admitting you were already going through a stressful time and he didn’t want to add to it. He proved he wasn’t a totally useless husband, able to make most of the meals and do the deeper cleaning in your home (he also griped and said he couldn’t wait until you were back to doing it, planning on taking every dirty diaper necessary so he didn’t have to scrub the ground with a toothbrush again).

Jack Howl:

You don’t think you’d ever seen Jack so excited for something. He talked at length to your stomach, telling them about his family and the sports they all liked to play. As soon as they had a sense of balance he planned on teaching them how to snowboard or ski since it was a favorite vacation destination, eyes sparkling at the thought of his mini-me zooming down a mountain beside him.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim as never felt more prepared for anything in his life, the feeling of overwhelming happiness at having one of his own consuming his every thought. Everything became about making the world a better place for your child, and while that was a lofty goal he focused on making your home comfortable enough that they’d never want for anything. While you’re worried about spoiling them too thoroughly it’s not easy to talk Kalim out of buying endless gifts as well as the finest inventions in raising children to make it easier on the two of you to adapt.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona is a little more vigilant than you give him credit for. There’s not a chance he would disregard your feelings or your state, but still, not many suspect Leona would keep such a close eye on you. He respected you enough to know that you would ask for help when needed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t question when you might be overdoing it or not realize when you did need support. So he’s there as a pillar, knowing that despite you carrying the baby physically, you were in this together.

#Twisted Wonderland #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Disney TWST #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader

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sunflowersbones · 2 months ago

Text

High Fidelity

Warnings: This fic will contain DUB-CON/NON-CON, Manipulative behavior, Spanking, Somnophilia. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

[STEVE ROGERS x reader]

Summary: The captain has unwritten rules laid out, ones you blindly follow. No questions asked, only orders followed. You’re like a loyal dog at his feet, ready to obey his every whim and command; only that you don’t realize how close your collar is to strangulation, and you're terrified that you won’t learn your lesson even when it snaps your neck.

NOTE: I suppose this could be my kinktober fic! Happy Autumn. Reblogs and comments are really appreciated, this is tumblr after all. I hope you enjoy!.

DIVIDERS: @writeyourmindaway l BANNERS: @vase-of-lilies

You look out of the window as the sun shines through, lightening up the break room. The slight bitterness of the last remains of your coffee mellow on your tongue as you start preparing it for the others. You make his at the end to ensure that it remains warm until he drinks it. An Americano, with three cubes of sugar. Just the way he likes it; you can only hope that he’s appeased by your attempts, even if it’s not much.

You walk back to the conference room, one hand balancing the coffee and the other carrying a few files Pepper needs. Your life as Pepper’s assistant involves having to clean up everything for her as well as for Tony. Well, more for Tony than Pepper.

As you walk through the corridor, you hear the regular good morning charades. You smile and nod too tired to say anything as your eyes beg you to get some sleep. Tony’s plethora of mishaps as of recently has only increased your work load. This boy leaves around more paperwork than Pepper can handle.

While work can be strenuous at times, you’re extremely grateful for what you have. Who wouldn’t want to work for Stark Internationals and… you got to meet him, talk to him, get to know him, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

“Ahh, there she is; we were wondering where our coffee monkey is.” You hear Tony chime.

“What he means is, good morning, Y/N.” Pepper snorts.

“Morning Pepper, Tony, everybody. Pepper, the files you needed.”

“Oh, thank you!.”

Most of them flock around you to get their hands on the coffee, but Sam and Tony beat them to it, like indecent children. The only ones with a little decency are Pepper, Nat, Bucky, and, of course, Steve.

You walk over to Nat and Bucky after you give Pepper hers. Both utter a small thank you as you give them theirs. You slowly turn around and place Steve’s cup near him on the table. He barely acknowledges you, his eyes concentrated on the file in his hand. You’ve always admired that; his ability to never get distracted from what he deems important—you could only wish to have such discipline.

You bask in his scent for a few seconds and immediately leave. You hope nobody caught you staring; you tend to do that a lot. If they knew, they’d make fun of you for being such a love-sick fool.

You finish entering all of last week's finances when you see him approach you. You avert your eyes immediately; to avoid too much eye contact is something he insists upon. You stare at your computer as you type in a few more numbers.

He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, a file in his hand.

“Hello captain.”

“Pepper wanted to return this to you.” He says as he extends the file to you.

“Oh yes, I’ll need this for...,” you stop as you realise he’s barely listening. You see him look around to make sure no one is nearby as he turns to you.

“You didn’t stop by yesterday.” His tone was laced with disappointment.

“I… I didn’t leave office until late, and I had to come back early; there was a lot of work left.” You wait for him to say something but soon realise he’s not going to. His face is as clam as ever, yet his eyes seem to be throwing a reproachful look at you.

“You’d just arrived from a mission too; I assumed you might be tired.”

"Yeah, I was; don’t you think that’s when I need you the most?” He whispers.

“I’m sorry, you never said anything, and I—

“Do I have to? After all this time.” You feel your heart clench at his accusation.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, and you feel yourself shrink at his presence.

“I should leave; you’re not the only one with work here.” Before you could say anything, he’s gone, only the echo of his footsteps left behind.

The whole day passes by uneventfully, and Steve’s words stung. You tried to immerse yourself with work, but your mind seemed inclined to relive your conversation from the morning. You really hadn’t meant to upset him.

At about nine, you receive a text from Steve.

“Stop by tonight.”

Simple and direct your conversations never went past that. You still have some more work left, but you don’t want to upset him any further, so you pack your stuff and decide to head to his room.

You wish that Steve would come over to your place instead; having to sneak around like this can be really difficult at times. If it were your place, there’s nothing to worry about—nobody to catch you. But now... does he not think of these things?, you wonder.

You’re not particularly afraid of the others finding out, considering Pepper and Tony have themselves breached the professionalism code of conduct. Nat and Bruce are on their way to; there’s nothing new about finding love at the workplace, right?

You’re more worried about how he’s going to react when people find out; you really didn’t want to deal with the burn of something you could have avoided.

As you turn around the right corner, your heart jumps out of your body as your eyes meet a pair of questioning blue ones.

“Why haven’t you left yet; isn’t it late?” Bucky enquires; he seems to have changed into his workout attire, his hands warped in bandages. Who works out at this hour? You ponder. He seems to have read your mind through your face as he answers, saving you the trouble.

“Couldn’t sleep; thought I’d punch some of the energy out.”

“So, why are you still here?”

“Uhh work, there were a lot of emails and I lost track of time.” He gives you an understanding nod. His mouth slightly parts to say something but then thinks better of it. You move around to pass through, when he suddenly says, “I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh, it’s ok. I wouldn’t want to ruin your workout.”

“You won’t. I’ll walk you to your car and then head to the gym.”

“Really I — But, before you can finish, he turns back towards the elevator and presses the button. The doors swing open, and he steps inside, leaving you no choice but to follow.

Bucky leans onto the side, pressing himself to the cool glass walls as you stand rigid on the opposite side. You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with him before or this close to him. Now that you notice it, he’s built quite a lot like Steve, although Steve might be a tad bit taller or it could just be the hair.

You quickly avert your eyes as he catches you staring at him. He clears his throat as he says, “You really shouldn’t be working so late, Y/N; it’s not healthy, you know.”

“Overworking will only make things more difficult in the future; Pepper wouldn’t want that for her favourite employee.��

You chuckle at that, “I’m not Pepper's favourite employee.”

“Of course you are; she couldn’t manage a day without you. She’s always praising you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, plus we like having our morning coffee, and you’re the only one who’s kind enough to get it for us.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” You smile back.

“Still, thank you. We really appreciate it.” He says, a slight smile warming up his face.

The lift arrives at the parking lot, and you get out of it into the well-lit space. The cluster of cars overwhelming you as you look around in search of yours, lost in the myriad of similar-looking vehicles.

“Well… Thank you for acknowledging it, Mr. Barn—

“Bucky.” He cuts you to it, his voice carrying a timber of shyness.

“Bucky.” Your whisper back, happy at the aspect of knowing that after all, maybe the supersoldier doesn’t despise you. You don’t know why you ever worried about that; your communication with each other might have been limited, but he was never anything but kind and respectful.

You say your final good-byes and walk towards your vehicle. You open it and get inside, fumbling with your key, hoping that he would leave soon. You did not want to actually leave the building for the pretence of it.

You turn your key around, the car engine roaring at you. You look over ahead to see Bucky turning around to ride up the elevator again. You decide to stay put for some more time. You don’t want to ride the elevator just yet. What if he hasn’t left?

If you get caught again, you have no excuses left. So you stay put for a good 40 minutes before you make your way up. Bucky’s bound to be in the gym by now.

You slowly sneak towards his room, heels in your hand, to avoid the loud tenor of its click-clacking. You arrive at his front door and repeat the pattern twice. A knock-pause, followed by two rapid knocks. You’re received by silence, and you grow a little uneasy. What if someone shows up? What will you say? Was he really that mad?

You repeat the knock again and pause for a few seconds. The door swings open, and your breath hitch’s at the sight in front of you. He has a towel wrapped around his hip, his hair wet as the droplets still cling on to him. His face and body; glistening. There’s a frown etched between his eyebrows as he stares at you.

“You’re late.”

“I was—before you can finish, his hand extends to latch on to your belt as he pulls you in. He shuts the door close as he presses you against it; you feel your entire face heat up. You’ve seen him naked so many times, yet you can’t help but ogle at him and admire him every time you see him.

Every time he needs you, there’s a bloom in your heart that radiates through your whole body. One that just wants him near you, on you, inside you. And you just want to be there for him whenever, wherever, however he wants you to be.

He gives you a questioning gaze as you mumble. “Bucky kinda noticed that I hadn’t left yet, so I had to play around a little.” His frown still remains as you let out a “Sorry.” His hand moves around you to lock the door, the sound of it synchronising with a beat of your heart. His hand moves to rest on your lower back; it curves around you and pushes you towards him. Your breasts press tightly against his chest as he traps you between him and the door. He presses his mouth on to yours as he kisses you; it's messy, all teeth and tongue. His desperation seeps through you as you feel yourself get wet.

You feel his hard length against your core as he presses his hip to yours. You let out a loud moan, your head leans back onto the door as you attempt to take in shallow breaths. He moves his face ever so slightly to look at you as he moves his hips back and thrusts into you with a force that knocks the wind out of you. You gasp at that as he adorns a devious smirk.

His hand travels down your thigh, he lifts it up and hooks it around his hip, spreading you apart as he nestles in between you.

“Been thinking about this pretty cunt, the whole time I was away.” He whispers into your mouth. One of his hands travels under you skirt as he cups your core, his fingers maneuver around your underwear as he plays around with you.

“Well somebody’s excited.” He sighs out, hot breath fanning your face.

“On the bed, ass up, right now.” He sternly recites. Your body immediately moves on its own, pealing your clothes off of yourself. Anticipation overwhelming you as you lay down, just like he told you to. You can hear him pumping himself with the hand that was covered in your slick just a moment ago.

He climbs onto the bed behind you as his hands move to grope your ass. With a smooth clean thrust he slides himself inside you. He lets out a moan as you feel yourself clench around him. His right hand rear back and as he smacks you, you feel the sting pass through your entire body.

You bite your lips and start counting; you haven’t forgotten, the last time he made sure you won’t. “…3,4,5,6,” you feel hot tears well up you eyes, “…8,9.” His left arm gropes your titts and moves forward to your neck, he squeezes it as he yanks you back.

Your back collides with his chest and he increases his pace, thrusting into you. Your knees are falling apart and the only thing that makes sure you stay upright are his hands. Your own hand maneuvers back to play with his hair, you ruffle your fingers through the short strands and slowly scratch his head. His eyes shut close as his breath falters and his thrusts start to get sloppier. You press yourself even closer to him as you tilt your head sideways. You lean forward and place a light peck on his lips. He opens his eyes as his grip on you tightens at that, you’re sure that it’ll bruise by tomorrow morning.

He moves your upper body around uncomfortably so as his lips find yours. He growls into the kiss as he twists your body, you’re almost afraid that you’ll snap like a twig, but you felt reassurance course through you when you realize its him. You wouldn’t mind if it’s him but you also know that nothing would happen because it’s him; he would never hurt you, he would never hurt anybody. He is Captain America after all.

You feel yourself close and you cling on to him desperately. “Sir… sir, I’m clo—

“Hush, hush let go… just let go, I’ve got you.” You come apart around him as you clench him tighter and he closely follows you.

You fall on to the bed as exhaustion overcomes you. You can hear his soft, shallow breaths behind you as you close your eyes and focus on it. You feel him shift as he gets out of bed and leaves the room; he comes back a minute later carrying a bottle with him. His eyes are on you as you turn around to sit upright.

“Water?” he asks, his hand extended, his gaze never leaving you.

“Yes, please!” You timidly reply, your eyes finding the ground. You greedily drink up; you’d been parched, and you hadn’t even realised it.

He moves around to his bedside table and fiddles with the clock. With your thirst now quenched, you feel the soreness ripple through your body. You’re ready to drop right now; you don’t even want to think about the pile of work you’ll have to deal with in the morning. Some sleep would do you good, yet you know you’re not going to get any, simply by the way he stares at you. He’s waiting to rip that bottle out of your hands.

The minute you give him the bottle back, he’s on you. His entire weight pressed onto your aching body, his thrusts sending you to oblivion as he takes you over and over throughout the night.

You jump up as the alarm rings through your brain, the blaring noise annoying your ear just as its bright red numbers annoy your eyes. You absentmindedly notice that it's 4:00 am. You don’t have to turn around to know that he’s gone; the lack of warmth already suggests that. Not that you ever got a semblance of the next morning; you’re never privy to seeing his beautiful sleep-ridden form in the morning.

He’s always been punctual about his morning runs; they weren’t going to change for your sake. You pick up your clothes—the ones you’d scattered around, the ones he’s picked up and placed on his chair—and get dressed as you brace yourself for the day to come. At least he’s not far away on a mission; at least you don’t have to worry about how he’s doing, where he’s gone, or when he’ll come back, and you most definitely don’t have to worry about Tony’s inquisitive gazes as to why his assistant’s secretary would care about Steve Rogers.

The last time you chalked it up as concern for the team and worry about the authenticity of the Intel, but you won’t get such chances anymore, so you learn to apply patience into your daily regime. At least now you can take comfort in small glances and the echo of his voice; it fills your heart with a kind of warmth that you don’t think you can explain. Yet you know it; you recognise it. It blooms within you every time you see those baby blues.

Tony’s meetings have always brought a frown upon Steve’s brows; that wouldn’t surprise you, however the way he gazes at you does. It never lingers for more than a second, but now... you feel his gaze burn through you. You focus your attention on the second pair of eyes that have been longing for it as you hand over the cup of espresso to him.

“Thanks doll.” Bucky whispers back a nonchalant remark.

Steve’s eyes flick on to Bucky and then back to you. For a split second, his face hardens, but it immediately reverts back. His attention now back on the monitor in front of him.

“Hey, Steve, this is important, you know? It would be great if you were paying attention to what I’m saying instead of laser-eyeing my coffee monkey.” Tony quips.

All eyes are now on you, yet his remains stoned towards Tony. He gives him an unimpressed shrug, “You do have my attention, Tony.”

“Wait a sec, she gets everyone coffee, so why is she your coffee monkey?” Natasha asks, an eyebrow raised in your direction, “Shouldn’t she be our coffee monkey?” she smirks.

“Well, Nat,” Tony replies, “it’s my coffee, and she works for me, so...”

“First and foremost, she’s my assistant; second of all, she’s doing you guys a favor. She doesn’t have to do this. Now please stop hogging her and let her work.” Pepper tones suggest humour and a slight disappointed nod at Tony.

“Yeah, well, you work for me, Pepp, so technically everything’s mine.”

Tony squeaks out as the room breaks into smiles and low hollers. The attention is back on Tony now; you use this opportunity to escape. As you leave, you turn back slightly to look at Steve. Only to be met with his back towards you.

Once again, you leave work late. The workload these past few days has made taking care of yourself impossible. As you walk towards home, you mentally plan on what you should do to relax. Tomorrow is a Sunday, and you really want to spend some time for yourself. You turn around as you head in the direction of your apartment building and are momentarily surprised to find Steve perched up on his motorcycle.

He looks up at you, his eyes locked onto yours. Even a simple gaze from him brings a shiver down your spine. He walks into the building, and you quietly follow behind him. A part of you feels guilty for not lending him a key, but he never asked, and you didn’t want to seem overbearing. He moves towards the corner of the lift as you enter right behind him.

Even though it is quite late into the night, the overflow of people moving about was no less. You move over to the right to create space for the incoming group of people. An unbothered shove from the person in front of you pushes you back. Your body slightly leans towards him, his chest pressed to your back as his hands land on your hip, pulling you closer. You feel him hard against your ass, and you heave a shuttered breath.

While Steve has always been handsy, he never acted out in public. Although no one here recognised him, nor were there any cameras in the lift—unlike the all-seeing eyes of the stark tower—it still doesn’t help calm your nerves.

Your floor arrives shortly, and you weed your way out; however, you don’t see him behind you. You presume he’ll get out on another floor and descend the stairs. You slowly walk towards your apartment and unlock the door. You enter and switch on the lampshade in the hall, the low yellow colour dancing through the entire room.

You hear his heavy footsteps as you place your bag on the table. He enters and closes the door; his figure leans on to it as he lingers there for a few seconds, gazing at you.

Before you know it he moves forward in lightening speed. His hands find your body as he lifts you off of the ground. You wrap your legs around his hips as he hungrily kisses you. His right hand lands on your ass and he gropes a handful as his other hand squeezes the nape of your neck. You revel in the pleasure and slight pain he provides and you lightly bite his lips.

He places your body atop the table as he moves to nip at your neck. His hand rides up your thigh as he slowly drags your panties down. You hike your skirt up in an attempt to help him as your lips desperately try to latch itself on to his again.

He kisses you a few more times in an attempt to placate you before his arm pushes your upper body onto the table. He slightly bends his knees and leans over to lower his head in between your thighs.

His heated breath dances against your slick core, as he swipes his tongue over your folds. He laps from you hungrily as his hands tighten on your thigh; adjusting them.

“Please Steve.” You receive a slight bite on the inside of your thigh at that; a reminder.

“Captain. Sir, Please.” You moan a whimper out.

“Use your words sweetheart, what do you want?”

“I want you.”

“Yeah? What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to make me feel good.”

“Atta girl.” He whispers.

His tongue slightly licks your clit before sucking on it. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan as you move your hands over to run through his short Blond strands, you slowly massage his head and he pushes his face further into you.

You can barely handle it anymore as you let yourself go with a muffled scream and you nearly see stars around you. He moves his hand to the back of your hip as he stands straight and you know you’re not done for the day.

It’s been nearly three weeks, and he hasn’t said a word to you. Your lack of communication wasn’t anything new. But he hasn’t come to you even once, and you know he’s here and not away on a mission; you’d seen him at the tower chatting away with almost anybody but you.

Sometimes you’d encounter the supersoldier pair in passing, Bucky was the only one who would stop by to greet you; your Blond-haired nightly companion would simply walk past you. You’re unsure if it’s his usual impassiveness or if you did something wrong again.

It could be really difficult when it came to Steve; he had high expectations but was never precise about what he wanted. A part of you loved it when you could figure it out on your own without him having to spell it out for you. But sometimes you couldn’t understand what it is that he wants. It angers and terrifies you; that’s when the dread settles in. You don’t want to admit it or acknowledge it even,though a small part of you is terrified of being discarded away.

By the fourth week, you finally found the courage to talk to him, only to find out that he’s been gone for about three days now. A part of you felt guilty that you hadn’t talked to him earlier, but another part of you knows that it was the better decision to make.

The days flit through in a gloom as you realise how disheartening expectation can be. The only positive side to your loneliness and boredom was the better sleep schedule you managed to incorporate into your routine. The depths of sleep now welcome you without much hesitation.

You don’t really perceive the feeling of your bed dipping at the weight of another. Not even the feather-like touch of fingers skimming over your body. Sleep lulls you into a pleasant dreamscape; not even at the slight intrusion that your body felt could your mind understand anything.

It wasn’t until you felt his cock plunged into you that you truly registered what was happening. Your mind had just been in the cradle of sleep, and it felt like you had been snatched out of it. Your body felt trapped between the bed and the weight of the body pressed on top of you. The weight of it was the only thing you could focus on until the sting of him stretching you out coursed through your body.

You could hardly breathe; fear surges through you as your heartbeat increases. Your brain felt like it was on fire due to the sudden change your body felt.

The room was veiled in darkness except for the small shine of moonlight. Your eyes hadn’t been able to register to it in the beginning, but now they had become accustomed to it. You couldn’t decide if the sight in front of you put you at ease or if it alarmed you further.

It was the same blue eyes that you’d always longed to gaze at, the same glittery Blond hair that you long to touch, the same sharp nose, and the same clenched jaw. Except there was something in his eyes that terrified you, along with the dirt and blood that covered his face; his lip nearly torn apart. It almost felt like it wasn’t him, and your heart both feared and ached for him.

With a little more clarity now you notice the brushing of the sharp clothes against yours. He was still wearing his tactical suit; this— a first. Now that you think of it, you don’t ever remember him coming to you while wearing it; he’d never been desperate enough. You were a part of his leisure, not a need. Your hand moves to feel the shape and pattern with a sense of wonder.

He leans down to kiss you, the copper taste of his blood stinging your tongue. He bites on to your lip making you yelp; sure that now you’ve started to bleed too.

“Ahh ste— Steve, slow— slow down please.” You beg.

His hand moves to wrap itself around your throat as he slightly tightens his fingers around it. His pace not differing at the slightest. In fact, you're sure he’s slightly increased his pace.

“Talk to me... what’s wrong?” Your right arm moves up to hold his face as your thumb gets imprinted with his sweat and blood.

His gaze that had been on your lips this entire time, now flickers to your eyes as his pace slows a tiny bit.

“Just go to sleep.” The gravel of his voice a slight whisper.

You’re exhausted by him, and his voice lulls you even more; you feel the ceiling slowly blur. Your body moving along with the rhythm of the bed as you slowly fall asleep again.

A surprise party for Pepper's birthday would involve the utmost amount of planning done solely by you and the credit taken away by Tony. But the warm smile lingering on the strawberry Blond's face makes it all worth it.

The humdrum within the Stark tower makes you gleam inwardly; the initial stress and discomfort from the morning washed away. In fact, you had completely forgotten about him. The excitement of the party overtaking you—it felt so nice to see everybody like this. At ease in their own skin, today they were no different from any other office member celebrating a colleague's birthday, albeit a slight difference in luxury.

The long-haired brunet walks over to the quieter side of the party where you reside. You notice him walking over and slice a piece of the cake and extend it to him.

“It’s a real nice party you pulled off in such little time, Y/N.”

“Whatever do you mean?, this is all Tony." You say, a light gist in your voice.

“Oh please, everyone knows this is your work; pretty sure Pepper does too.”

“Tony was away with us on the mission; he wouldn’t be able to pull this off.”

“Well, I think you underestimate him, Bucky.”

“No, they underestimate you,” he sighs, anticipation brewing within. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous.

“Do you like the cake? It’s got a complicated name, but I’m pretty sure it's got plum in it; I know you like it.”

His eyes light up just a tad bit as the corners of his mouth slightly turn up.

He chuckles again, “You’re supposed to get Pepper a cake of her choice, not what I like.”

“Everyone likes plum!. Anyway, I had to buy multiple cakes; sneaking this in was easy.”

“Thank you. It’s really goo— a thud on his back nearly chokes him as Sam comes up from behind, eager to receive his share of the sugary dessert. As you cut the slice for him, their regular jab of bickering continues. Sam says something in an almost teasing tone as Bucky tries to strangle him with his eyes. You like this version of them much more.

You slightly tap your feet as you gaze at the room you’re most familiar with. He hadn’t spoken to you the whole day, but his piercing gaze could not be shaken off of you. You recall the previous night's events; you’re unsure what to make of it. You simply couldn’t leave, at least not without hearing his voice.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“I- wanted to talk to you… about last ni—

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?”

“You seemed content with the company of others the whole day.” The harshness of his tone surprises you.

“What, Steve, what are you-?

“I believe it’s cap for you. Since when did you two get this close?” he says a finger pointed towards you.

“who?”

“Don’t act like a fool, Y/N; I see the way you look at him; act around him.”

“Who!?”

“Bucky.” He barks back.

“Are you trying to fuck him? Bored of me? Is that what this is about?”

The crassness of his words shocked you. You feel a lump form in your throat as your eyes sting.

“No, no...” you can barely form any words as tears start brimming up, your palms brush against your eyes harshly as to try to stop the free fall.

He sighs at that, his voice now a whisper, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not. I’m— sorry…” you coarsely whisper.

He sighs again and moves over to sit on the bed, a hand extending to latch on to your dress. He pulls you with it, your slight resistance casually ignored. His grip becomes stronger as he pulls you onto his lap, his hand tight around your waist.

He simply gazes at you, and you start crying all over again, “I don’t know—I just don’t know what I did to make you feel that way. I never—you sob words stuck in your throat.

He tilts up your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at him. He leans forward to kiss you. The hand around your waist forcing you to straddle him as the other latches on to your hair. You try to stop, to get a word out but he uses this opportunity to shove his tongue in. The force of him making you relent.

“Steve, I—

The sudden swing of the door startles you just as your presence startles your visitor. He averts his eyes in shock, but his eyes move back to look at you, an ache painted upon them as he looks at your dishevelled hair and messy form.

“Hey, Buck. Need something?” Steve asks, his face slightly turned backwards.

Bucky’s eyes finally reside on the other man in the room, snapping him out of his trance.

“Uh… yeah, no. No, it’s ok.” He rambles as he moves back and closes the door.

You feel a sudden sense of shame course through you, and you move to get off of him. Only to have him shift you as he pins you under him.

“Don’t worry, he won’t tell anyone. It’ll be fine.” He says in between kisses. His hand toying with your dress.

Of course; you’re still his secret, one that he’s unwilling to share. But it’s ok. For him, you’ll do just about anything, as he would for you.

His insatiability and your incredulity, twisting around and consuming you into a single burning fire.

#dark!fic #x reader fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fic #dark!fanfiction

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huggyhughesy · 1 year ago

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slow mornings | quinn hughes

a little dad!quinn blurb for your sunday evening <3

The house was quiet. Too quiet for a Saturday morning.

Usually, Saturday mornings started early with Sophie climbing into Quinn and I's bed. This morning, though, I was the only one laying under the duvet. As I racked my brain, trying to remember if there was a reason I had been abandoned in the bed, I remembered that I'd never seen Quinn last night. He was supposed to get home after midnight, flying home from a five-day road trip.

The panic began to set in when I realized that I had no messages from Quinn, his phone wasn't on his bedside table, and -- most importantly -- he wasn't lying in bed next to me. Flinging the covers off, I made my way down the hall to Sophie's room, where I discovered that she too was missing. Deciding to venture downstairs, I could hear the faint sounds of music coming from the living room.

As I entered, my heart swelled at the sight in front of me. Laying on the couch, both asleep, was Sophie and Quinn. Sophie was cuddled into her dad's side and didn't appear to be waking up anytime soon.

I quickly snapped a picture of the two of them before leaning down and placing a kiss to the top of Quinn's head. His eyes fluttered open and a lazy grin came over his features.

"Hey," he mumbled. "Can I have a real kiss?"

I smiled at his request.

"You want me to give you a kiss after you abandoned me in our bed?"

He just continued smiling at me, knowing that I'd give in eventually. And I did, leaning back down to give Quinn a 'real kiss' before walking around the couch and sitting on the unoccupied side of Quinn's body. I leaned onto his side as his arm came to wrap around my waist. I was looking at the movie currently playing on the tv; Winnie the Pooh was currently one of Soph's favorites. She especially loved Eeyore.

"Eeyore's actually such an underrated character," Quinn said, as if he could read my mind.

"You and Soph are too much alike," I replied, earning a nudge from my husband.

"Who's your favorite then?"

I didn't reply, which was an answer enough for Quinn.

"There's nothing wrong with liking Eeyore, you know. His grumpiness is funny. And realistic."

"Fair point."

We both laid in comfortable silence for a while, watching the children’s movie, when I figured I’d bring up the potentially touchy subject of Quinn’s road trip, during which they’d lost two games and won one.

"How was the trip?"

The involuntary sigh that escaped his lips was all I really needed to know. Quinn had already confided in me about how frustrating it was for his team to be having such an awful season, especially compared to Jack's, but to also have to see so many of his teammates and people he considered to be good friends get traded away. He didn't talk about it in front of his parents or his brothers, specifically Jack, because he didn't want to make everyone listen to his pity party when he knew they really just wanted to be basking in the glory of Jack's first really good season in the NHL.

"It sucked," Quinn admitted, his arm gripping my waist a little tighter. “But it’s over now, so it’s whatever.”

I looked up to him, communicating with just my look that it, in fact, wasn’t whatever.

“Fine, fine. It just wasn’t fun overall. I didn’t play very well, and I missed you guys.”

Quinn had a pout on his face when I looked up at him. I couldn’t help myself but to lean up and kiss his jaw.

“We missed you too,” I informed him. “Soph watched every single minute of every game.”

As if she could hear us mention her name in her sleep, Sophie stirred. Wiggling around and rubbing her eyes. Upon her opening her eyes fully, she looked at Quinn, then at me, and did a double take back to Quinn, letting out a little gasp.

“Daddy!” she squealed and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck. Quinn chuckled but pulled her closer to his chest.

“Hey sweetheart. Have a good nap?”

The massive smile on Sophie’s face and the hands that were still clutching onto Quinn’s shirt were enough indication that she was more preoccupied with her father than to answer his question.

“Daddy, are you home now?”

The grin that graced Quinn’s features wavered slightly. While Soph was asking if Quinn was home, she was really asking if he was going to stay home.

“No baby, not yet. I’m home this week, and then I’m going to see Uncle Trevor.”

She tried to mask her disappointment. After a moment, though, her features changed to one of curiosity and excitement.

“Oh. But can you ask him to bring me some candy? He always brings me candy when you see him,” she informed us.

I raised an eyebrow and side-eyed Quinn, who looked guilty.

“Uncle Trevor always brings you candy?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Daddy brings it, but Uncle Trevor gives it to him to give to me.”

“Ah, I see.”

I decided to leave the subject of Trevor and Quinn conspiring to sneak our kid candy another time. Right now, though, I was going to spend the morning watching Disney movies.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #nhl blurb #vancover canucks #canucks hockey #quinn hughes imagine #dad!quinn hughes

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suuuupernovaaa · 2 years ago

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tìwusem

tìwusem [English] n. fighting

Anonymous request: Would you please do a Neteyam x mtf Metkaniya reader, daughter of Ronal and Tonowari, if not gn please, who can't stand each other from the beginning much to the amusement and despair of their families, who slowly began to love the other but would forever deny it, until their siblings got fed up and take matters into their own hands?

Adult Neteyam. 1,529 words.

Kiri was exhausted by the back and forth between her eldest brother and Y/N, eldest daughter of Tonowari, the chief of the Metkayina. For months, the two morons had pretended to hate each other. At first, it seemed to be a genuine distaste.

Y/N thought that Neteyam didn't take his responsibilities as eldest son of Taruk Maktow seriously enough. In turn, Neteyam thought Y/N was too stern and, as he put it, full of herself.

Under that distaste, from the first argument they'd ever had, was an obvious tension and attraction - but it was too late for them to admit it now. They'd gone on, and on, and on about how much they didn't like each other, about how they hated one another, could not stand to be within 30 feet of each other... and now, they couldn't do anything about their obvious feelings.

Lo'ak was tired of it too, and had roped Tsireya in on their scheme. She didn't protest, she was absolutely sick up to her eyeballs of listening to her sister complain about Neteyam.

So, they devised a plan. They knew Neteyam was going on a hunt with the men of the tribe that very morning, and upon their return, they were going to tell Y/N that he'd been gravely injured in the hunt. As future Tsahik, they knew she'd rush to his side in a panic. They hoped the relief upon seeing Neteyam alive and well would force her to confess her feelings. If not that, at least she might shut up about hating him so much.

"She will be very angry with us," Tsireya said. "You, mostly."

Lo'ak looked offended. "Why me?"

Tsireya grinned and shrugged. "She babies Kiri, and can't hold a grudge against her little sister for too long, so she'll take it out on you."

"Well, whatever. Her being mad at me is better than listening to Neteyam talk about how awful she is constantly." He rolled his eyes, and took on a faux-Neteyam voice. "Y/N is so stuck up, she's so full of herself, she's not even that beautiful!"

In turn, Tsireya put on her best Y/N voice. "Neteyam is so stupid, how am I expected to teach that moron anything?"

The three devolved into a fit of giggles before deciding to press on with their devious plan.

---

I sat in the water, just near the shore, relaxing for a little bit as the midday sun was beginning to set. My tsurak swam nearby, just in case I needed her, but I didn't feel like going for a ride. I just wanted to rest for a while.

For a while lasted only a moment, because soon, I heard my sisters panicked voice. "Y/N!" she shouted, and I turned my head so fast I thought my neck might snap.

"Tsireya! What is it?" I stood up quickly. Behind her followed the middle Sully children, Kiri and Lo'ak. All three looked panicked.

"It is Neteyam!" Lo'ak exclaimed.

Neteyam? The hunt! He'd been on a hunt with the other men! All day, something had been gnawing at my stomach, blooming an anxiety that I could not explain, and now it was all coming to light.

I was worried about Neteyam, the lazy moron.

"Is he hurt?" I asked, grabbing Lo'ak's upper arm.

He nodded, a grave look on his face. "He's in our pod. Come."

Before they could turn, I ran between them and past them, heading right to where I knew I would find Neteyam. My feet could not carry me over the water fast enough, my hair flew behind me, my tail whipping in the wind, as I weaved my way through the pods until I found his home.

What if Neteyam was dead? The thought made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the worst thing I could imagine.

Ewya, how long had I been in love with him without realizing?

I rounded the last corner and saw his mother standing at the entrance of their pod. She turned her eyes to me as I approached her, panting and panicked.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Ah!' she tsk'd, throwing her arms in the air. "What has my son done now?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. "He's... he's hurt?"

She looked behind her shoulder, into their pod. "No..."

I turned myself to look, and there he stood. Tall, strong, a little dirty but unharmed. His eyes were wide as he stared at me. He stood across from his father, exchanging tools.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, scowling.

I approached him quickly, walking past Jakesully, and examined him from head to toe, circling him, picking up his tail, making sure every inch of him was unharmed.

"Your brother, and sister, and my sister, they told me you were gravely injured in the hunt," I replied, hissing through my teeth. "I see now that they tricked me."

Coming face to face with Neteyam, I let out a deep exhale.

The annoyance on his face faded into something like confusion. "You... came to see if I was okay?"

I rubbed my forehead and sighed. "Yes."

His father slipped away, hardly noticed by either of us, joining his mother outside the pod; the two walked away quietly.

"Y/N," Neteyam said, and his voice was softer than I'd ever heard it.

Processing my thoughts and emotions in the moment was almost impossible. Going from the terrifying panic of thinking Neteyam was okay, to the complete relief that he was fine, and the realization that I did not hate him at all... in fact, I loved him... it was all clouded by fury towards our siblings at their trick.

I wanted to grab them by their throats, and I wanted to kiss Neteyam at the same time.

Finally, I met his eyes with mine. "I am glad you are not hurt. I apologize for intruding."

He stepped closer, until there was almost no space between us. If he had been this close to me this morning, I would have shoved him away - hard. But now, it was not close enough.

How much a trick can change things.

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his slim torso and pulled him to me, closing the gap. My head rested perfectly on his chest, and he hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around me.

I took deep breaths, in and out, trying to calm myself down, but it was hard when we were close like this.

After a very long, peaceful moment, I stepped back a few inches and looked into Neteyam's eyes.

"I don't hate you. Not really."

He smiled. A big, wide smile, that I'd only seen him give to his family before. It filled me with pride, being the one to make him smile like that now.

"I don't hate you, either."

His fingers brushed underneath my chin, tilting my head back, and he swiftly and softly brushed his lips across mine, just once before pulling away.

My grin stretched ear to ear to match his.

"I might even like you. A little." I felt shy as I said it, and tried to look away, but Neteyam pulled my gaze back to his.

"A little? I have never seen such a panic, Y/N. No one has ever been so worried for me, outside my family. It was a cruel trick by our siblings, but maybe it was a good thing."

A blush crept across my cheeks. "Maybe."

---

Neteyam's chest was going to burst, seeing this woman blushing in his arms.

Since the moment he'd seen her, he had loved her - and thought she hated him, so he tried to hate her too, all the while dreaming of calling her his.

He didn't know whether he wanted to kiss or kill Lo'ak for his trick on Y/N today. He hated that she'd been caused such distress, but they might never have realized how they felt without it.

Speaking of... he heard whispering and giggling outside of the tent.

"I hear you," Neteyam called, and Y/N turned her head to the entrance of the pod. To his pleasant surprise, she stayed in his arms as Tuk, Lo'ak, Kiri and Tsiyera appeared in the doorway.

"We were just so tired of hearing you talk about how much you hate each other," Lo'ak said with a cheeky grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, and Neteyam squeezed her shoulder. "And do you think we will speak of each other less, now?" she asked.

Tuk giggled, and Kiri rolled her eyes. It was clear they hadn't considered how annoying it might be to spend their time around two young lovers.

"Whatever," Lo'ak replied dismissively, "you're welcome!"

Neteyam threw the nearest object, one of Tuk's loin cloths, in his direction as they scurried away.

He turned back to Y/N, still nestled safely in his arms.

"I will never thank them," she said fiercely, her brows knitted together and lips pursed.

"Me either," Neteyam replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

They had both begrudgingly thanked their siblings by the next sunset.

#avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam #Neteyam x reader #avatar way of water #I loved this request so much #and I really hope you like it #and I hope I did it justice

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caesariawritesstuff · 1 month ago

Note

I love C&M! I’d be curious how they’d each react to Detective being pregnant, if you’re comfortable writing that. Whether it’s planned or not, maybe both situations like headcannons?

We're Expecting

Summary: Unplanned and planned pregnancy headcanons for what would happen if Detective got pregnant.

Word Count: 2.8k

Content Warning: Slight sexual content, mention of abortion, planned and unplanned pregnancy discussions.

A/N: This fic is currently not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse storyline, but I had fun writing this. I'm so happy you love C&M, and thanks for the request, anon! This was supposed to be put in a bulleted list, but apparently there's a block limit and Tumblr didn't like it, so apologies for the formatting. 😒

Unplanned:

Okay. Whoops. This wasn’t supposed to happen. All the protections were in place, but somehow, someway…you got pregnant. At first, you didn’t think much of it when your period was late. You figured it was just hormones, that it would be here soon.

Until it wasn’t.

One morning, you wandered down to the local drugstore and picked up three pregnancy tests. Probably overkill, but you didn’t care. Your stomach twisted in anxious knots, every part of you terrified that it could be true.

Not like you’d never imagined yourself being a mother, but well…you and Edward had never really talked about the possibility of children. Except, of course, in the bedroom when his clear breeding kink came out and he filled you with his seed, but that was different, and you usually thought nothing of it by morning.

You took the tests home, quickly hurrying into the bathroom to do you business. With bated breath, you waited for the little line to appear.

Please be negative, please be negative, please be negative, you thought, whispering those words over and over again.

And then, slowly…the other pink little line appeared. You stared, blinking, hunched over the toilet with the pregnancy test in hand.

“No,” you whispered. You couldn’t believe it.

So you waited, and took the test again when you were ready – but the same result appeared, two pink little lines: pregnant.

You waited again, and took the third test, but it was the same result.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked in the mirror at yourself, the realization dawning over you like a slow trickle of chilled water.

You were pregnant. Actually pregnant. With Edward Nigma’s baby. Shit.

This was…not what you expected, and instead of being overjoyed, you were filled with never-ending dread. How was Edward going to react? Would he shun you? Leave you? Blame you for this? Well, it did take two to tango, so you weren’t entirely to blame.

But still. Let’s face it: Edward Nigma wasn’t exactly father material, now was he?

Terror clawed up your throat, but you decided to wait to tell him. You would try and gauge his reaction first, subtly, before announcing anything further.

One day, while out grocery shopping with Edward, you passed by a mother with a small toddler in a stroller, pausing to whisper, “What a cute little baby.”

Edward hardly noticed. Whether or not he cared, you didn’t know.

Another time, you found yourself straying near the baby section of the store, your eyes pausing on cute little baby clothes. Edward, again, said nothing.

And so, it seemed, you had absolutely no idea how you were going to tell him.

One day, a few weeks later, you still hadn’t told him. You held it in, unable to look him in the eyes and tell him you were pregnant. Hell, you even took a fourth pregnancy test just to be sure, but that one didn’t lie, either.

Meanwhile, however, Edward could tell something was up. He could read it in your body language, and you were quite easy to read. He knew you were keeping something from him, he just didn’t know what.

At least, until one day while taking out the trash, he found the receipt for the local drugstore and the evidence that you’d bought a pregnancy test – and in that moment, his heart dropped.

Edward stared, wide-eyed, feeling himself have an out-of-body experience. Because if you were pregnant…no. No. He was not father material. He didn’t think he had one parental bone in his body. The very concept of it terrified him.

Edward’s own father had been a good-for-nothing piece of shit. He’d never had a father figure growing up, and all his years of abuse had tainted him to the idea of ever bringing a child into this world, anyways. Not like he ever believed he’d find you, either, but still…why hadn’t you told him about it? How long had you known?

And if there was one thing that truly bothered Edward, it was when you kept things from him. He did not like being kept out of whatever was going on inside your tiny mind. He did not like feeling like you were pushing him out.

But Edward Nigma had no idea what the fuck to do.

Should he confront you? Wait for you to tell him? Words danced on the tip of his tongue, but it took all of his self-control to not blow a gasket and storm out. Because being a father…it meant something more than he could ever have imagined.

But, Edward was a smart man, and he began to piece together small little things that had happened over the last few weeks: the way your eyes caught on tiny babies and baby clothes, how you expressed interest in them. Truthfully, Edward had thought you were simply ovulating, and that your hormones were raging. But now he saw it for what it was: you’d been trying to gauge his reaction, hadn’t you?

And here he’d gone and said nothing. Shit.

Terror clawed up Edward’s throat as he considered the possibility of fathering a child. His own father had done nothing but torment him, and he never knew his mother. He had little faith in his own parental skills…and he had no idea what the fuck to do. For the first time in his sorry life, he was at a complete and utter loss.

Edward Nigma had always prided himself on thinking ten steps ahead of everyone else, of being prepared for every scenario and outcome, but he had not planned for this.

But one night, when it seemed you were still content to keep this from him, he finally confronted you, looking up from his dinner as he said, “Are you keeping something from me, my dear?”

“What?” you’d asked, feigning surprise. “No…why would you say that?”

He raised his brows. “I know you’re pregnant.”

Your face had fallen, going pale, the color draining from your cheeks. You shifted, pushing your dinner plate aside as you looked down, not meeting his eyes.

Quietly, you said, “…what do you me to do with it?”

Edward blinked. Stared. Your question took him aback. He hadn’t expected you to be so quick to throw the decision on him. “What?” he’d asked.

You lifted your eyes. “Well…I mean, come on. Do you really want to be a dad?”

No. Yes. Maybe.

Fuck.

In that moment, Edward had no idea what he wanted. He never thought this would happen. Of course, he wasn’t an idiot – he knew the risks when you started having sex together. He just hadn’t expected it to become a reality.

And perhaps, if you were anyone else, if you were someone he did not love…maybe he would have walked out. Maybe he would have asked you to terminate the pregnancy. But it was you carrying his child, and dammit…he loved you.

More than he ever thought he could love another person.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered, so unlike him. He was usually so prepared, thinking ten steps ahead, but this…this unknown, it frightened him, shook him down to his very core.

“Okay,” was all you said, looking back down at the table.

“Okay?” he asked. “Okay? Is that all you have to say?”

Your gaze snapped back to him. “What do you want me to say, Edward? That I’m happy? This is kind of unplanned, you know. And I’ve been sick with worry, wondering what you would think and…” You shook your head.

“You want to know what I think, detective?” he asked lowly. “I’m fucking terrified.”

“I am, too,” you whispered.

Edward stared at you for a long moment. He didn’t know what he wanted. Every instinct inside of him told him to bolt from this room, slam the door behind him, and never look back. All his years of trauma and pent up rage for his own father threatened to burst from his chest, but…lashing out would accomplish nothing. It would only serve to make you angry with him, and he did not want that.

But the very idea of becoming a father…he never thought it possible. Never believed it could actually happen. And as terrified as he was, perhaps there was a part of him that was curious to know what another tiny human being would become from him. A natural curiosity, he supposed, one built on pure human instinct and nature.

And yet, beyond that, there was another truth, too: the fact that Edward had come to love you, so fucking much, that the prospect of destroying something that had been built between the two of you…that frightened him most of all.

Edward took a deep breath and composed himself.

Slowly, he reached forward, grasping your hand in his as his thumb stroked across your smooth skin. “Terror has never stopped me before, my dear,” he said.

You stared at him, blinked, as if you couldn’t process just what he’d said. Finally, you asked, “…are you saying you want to go through with this?”

He nodded, and yet the movement, the confirmation, made his stomach do a thousand uncertain flips. “What comes after two?” he asked.

“Three?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Then that’s what we’ll be,” he replied.

And that’s what we’ll be.

Planned:

The very idea of becoming pregnant terrified you. Childbirth was a scary thing, and even though you’d considered the prospect of being a mother one day, you just never expected the father of your child to be Edward Nigma.

In fact, once you started dating him, and the more serious your relationship grew, the more the very idea of becoming a mother seemed to fade away from you entirely. You knew Edward was not father material, and assumed he’d never wanted to have a baby, anyways…

Except, in the bedroom, when he’d whisper naughty, salacious things in your ear as he fucked you.

“Would you like it if I bred you, detective?” he’d ask, a low groan as his cock thrust in and out of you with furious, desperate need. “If I forced you to carry my seed? To populate this city with my genius?”

Before, you never thought too hard about what he said, even if it did turn you the hell on at the very prospect of being used to breed for him, but one night, after a round of sex, you found yourself wondering what it would actually be like to have his child.

Of course, you didn’t bring it up, even though words hung on your tongue. You never thought he would actually agree to having a baby with you.

Until, one night, he once again expressed his breeding kink by burying his cock deep inside of you and spilling his seed, whispering how much he wanted to breed you.

You couldn’t help it – the words slipped out of your mouth not long after, the question popping out before you could stop yourself, “Would you actually want to have a baby with me?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, and he propped himself up on one elbow while staring down at you with a quirked brow. “Would you actually want to have a child with me? You know, I’m not exactly father material.”

“You’re the one who talks about breeding me all the time,” you laughed out. “If anyone is interested, I’d say it’s you.”

He smirked. “Well…it would help the gene pool if I passed along my genius, now wouldn’t it? Just think of all the little genius offspring of mine.”

“Uh-huh,” you’d said, rolling your eyes, but you paused, feeling your stomach drop as you sat up in bed. “Wait – are you actually considering it?”

“I can’t deny my…interest, my dear, in what it would actually be like to have some offspring,” he said. “Believe me, this city would greatly benefit from it.”

You laughed, but his words had awoken something inside of, something dormant and fragile and now sparking to life like a wicked storm in your belly. You didn’t know what to think, but…well…

“Are you considering it?” he finally asked, as if noticing your expression.

“What? No, I mean, of course not!” you said, stumbling over the words, trying to hide the fact that you were very much thinking about it.

He studied you slowly, smirking, looking at you in that way that made you know he could tell exactly what you were thinking, but he chose not to probe further.

However, the conversation had seemed to unlock something in both of you. A strange, hidden interest, like opening Pandora’s box. Because now that the topic was out, it seemed you could not put it back in the box.

The days passed slowly, but you found yourself wondering what it would be like to have a baby with Edward. And even though he wasn’t really father material, you had to admit, he had done remarkably well in his reform: he’d been on his best behavior, attended therapy on time, and work was going surprisingly good. Things between you and him had been strong for months now, in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

But the very idea of actually having his baby stirred butterflies in your stomach. Perhaps it was something primal about it, maybe it was your own kink, you didn’t know – but something about being chosen by him of all people, to share himself with you and allow you to carry his baby, well…it certainly awoke something in you, didn’t it?

So, one night, you gathered up your courage and looked at him at dinner, staring him down as you said, “I want to have a baby.”

He almost choked on his food. “What?” he coughed out, taken aback.

“I want to have a baby. With you, Edward,” you said.

He stared at you for a long moment. You could just the wheels in his brain turning, as if his genius mind was trying to process just what you’d said and how to even respond. You waited with bated breath, prepared for him to call you a hundred names for being so stupid, for thinking this was a good idea, for—

“Very well,” he said.

“What?” Now it was your turn to be surprised.

“Seeing as you wish to carry my offspring, how can I decline such a request? After all, being the mother of my child is a great honor. And who am I to deny you?” As he spoke, his eyes twinkled with a mischievous gleam.

You smirked back at him. You hadn’t expected him to cave so easily, had assumed he would put up more of a fuss.

“Why so eager, Edward?” you’d asked, curious.

“I must admit, I’ve been giving it some consideration since our last talk,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “And I’ve found myself curious as to what it would be like to father a child. After all, I am the greatest mind this city has ever known. I think it’s about time I show this city what else I have to offer.”

You smirked, laughing lightly as you said, “Okay, sure.” Of course he would see having a child as providing Gotham with a great service, but, well…you didn’t mind, either. In fact, your belly stirred with warmth at the idea.

Looking up at him, you smirked and said, “I guess it’s a good thing I’ve already started taking prenatal vitamins then.”

“Oh,” he said, returning your smirk. “Someone has begun thinking a few steps ahead. It seems you’re finally learning.”

“Only from the best,” you said.

Edward, however, as much as he tried to hide it from you, could not ignore the strange stirrings in his own heart. Being a father frightened him. It terrified him, more than anything else ever had in his life – and that was saying something.

But there was a part of him that couldn’t deny the desperation to prove everyone wrong. To show the world just how great he was. After all, his reform had been going splendidly. And with you at his side – what better way to prove just how much he’d changed, how great he was, if not for taking on the responsibility that came with fatherhood?

After all, Edward was great, and what better way to only improve his greatness by proving he could be the best father? The father he’d never had – and oh, how Edward just loved to prove everyone else wrong.

And having you at his side, you carrying his child, well…that only made this whole thing all the sweeter, and he couldn’t deny you of his seed, now could he?

Oh no, Edward would only grant your wishes. What he had not expected, however, was how quickly it happened. In only a few short weeks, he found himself hanging outside the bathroom door while you took a pregnancy test, nerves bundling in his belly, as he paced back and forth down the hall.

But the moment the door opened, and you stepped out, holding a positive test, everything inside of him went taught. From fear. From excitement. From terror. He didn’t exactly know which ruled him more, all he knew was that this was becoming a very real thing.

But Edward Nigma, the Worlds Greatest Everything, had never shied away from a challenge. And fatherhood was the greatest challenge of all.

#caesariawrites #cat&mouse!verse #the riddler #edward nigma #arkham riddler #arkhamverse riddler #edward nygma #arkhamverse #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler x reader #riddler x detective #detective #riddler headcanons

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freefallfiction · 6 months ago

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File: Criminal Minds masterlist

Last Reviewed: 10/01/2024

Originally posted by tinywolfcoffee

rules No Pedoph!l!c Content No Minor Interaction Send Requests Through The 'Asks' Channel Fem!Reader Unless Requested Otherwise Don't Like Don't Read Mind The Warnings Have Fun

S. Reid

Pendulum

Claire knew she was different; in fact, it was one of the first things she really had to learn. Before that though, she simply thought the people she interacted with where disproportionally stupid. It was only after she realized she unnerved those around her, setting off alarms of warning of preservation, did she realize how special she was. Comparatively, it took Spencer Reid 1.39 seconds. (alternatively named 100 days of Claire)

prologue -Here! The Labrynth -Coming Soon! The Mirror -To Be Determined

United In Grief

How long can two hurting people hold on with only love keeping them together?

Late Night Concessions

Someone broke into your place; it was just past midnight and the rain was near deafening, but you were sure that was the sound of your front door window being shattered. With your phone on silent and Spencer’s number already dialed, you can only hope they’re here for your purse and tv and not the hiding girl beneath the bed.

Re-Run Special

Spencer finds love with a genius hedonistic girl who turns his world upside down, but their clash of personalities can leave him feeling a little left behind.

Play Your Cards Right

Y/n always loved Yu-Gi-Oh. From watching the show as a kid to trading and playing the card game, it’s always been a part of her life-- she should have known her boyfriend would try to learn it for her.

Coffee, My Secret Admirer

He had been wanting to try out the coffee shop on west and third for a while now, and he finally had the chance. He never thought he’d be caught up in a romance when a beautiful girl hopped over the counter and took his order, nor did he think they’d turn into not-so-secret admirers of one another.

Scale of Mental Stability

When a string of murders pick off where a long-arrested serial killer left off, the FBI’s first stop is the children of the cursed family. The problem? The only person who hates the man more than the son they arrested, is the daughter who’s out for blood.

My Hermes (Sending Me Letters From Above)

A coincidental meeting years ago leaves Spencer enthralled by a voice heard in the most unfortunate of circumstances. Y/n couldn't forget the man who gave her the best gift of all, the phone call of a lifetime.

The Seven Stages Of Loving You

A seven part series where Spencer falls in love with the BAU’s CI, or, Spencer finds out just how hard it is to build a future with someone constantly attacked by their past.

Absquatulate

Years had passed. Cases opened and closed, books were written and sold, the world spun and spun until... until it didn’t. The world kept moving until three am on Halloween night-- six shots of whiskey deep-- the world crashed down.

A. Hotch

Last Man Standing

No matter what it takes, even as bodies fall all around him and blood paints the streets, he will come home to you.

Just Like The Movies

It was a rare sight even before what will henceforth be known only as 'the incident' for Aarons smile to stretch so wide his eyes crinkled in a boyish manner that everyone believed was lost to time. It must have been a miracle.

The Egg Crusher

Serial killers in their own backyard had a tendency to start fires within the team that burn hotter than usual; one targeting pregnant women was practically begging them to shut him down. Aaron had begged her to take off work and finally start maternity leave. The worst part was she listened; the constant messages to his work email that set of ‘nesting’ alarms in his head had him convinced she had dived head first into it. Then he gets one signed off with the hidden moniker used when one of them gets themselves in trouble.

D. Morgan

Where You Go (I Wanna Go With You)

Derek always believed the job came first; complete the mission however he needed to for the case to close and the rest was simply collateral damage. Even now, when all is said and done, he couldn't say when his priorities shifted.

Where You Go (I Go)

Derek knew what it meant to be a great soldier. He knew how to follow all the rules and take initiative when appropriate; he’d learned these things as a means of survival. Even if the country he serves has dwindled down to one person, he knows to do everything in his power to get to her till his dying breath. (a part two)

Domesticated

The people at work tried to be more encouraging than envious when her boyfriend insists on driving her to and from work some random Tuesday. The imposing figure the man struck was intimidating, yet they all called him her ‘doberman puppy’.

J. Gideon

The Heart

He thought he'd lost it forever; for years it had been pegged as just another thing the horrors of his profession had stolen from him, a risk his mind simply wouldn't allow him to take. He should have known the brain had no power over matters of the heart.

E. Prentiss

Dancing With The Stars

Maybe in another world, when Emily crossed the dimly lit ballroom with a cutting smile and wandering hand, she did it without the mic in her ear.

E. Greenway

Comfort, Come Forth, King Forge

It was a dangerous field; that was all anyone ever said- you're a small girl, they'll eat you alive. For years after the academy she was always a girl first agent second; then she met her.

D. Rossi

Bella, Ciao

He may have chosen the wild life, but his heart remained every faithful in her hands.

These Trembling Hands

He thought it might be over; similar fates have happened to men far more successful than he. A mission gone wrong and they're sent to recovery, a mandates psych eval that already is stamped 'denied' to send him into retirement. He never thought he'd last this long in the first place, and if the pretty psychiatrist was his parting present he'd be a fool to look the gifted horse in the eye.

P. Garcia

Something Lost, Something Gained

It was a gilded reassignment that brought the new liaison to the team; she was, perhaps, the only agent who loathed the idea of being tacked on to the BAU's list of revolving-door members. The Cyber Response Unit had been home ever since the academy, but a single misstep had started the spiral towards madness, better known as the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Hopefully there would be someone on the team that wouldn't inherently know every little secret which had been carefully tucked away.

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 2 years ago

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Capitol Punishment VIII

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 4.4K (she’s also kind of long)

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

You laid on the cold, steel table of one of the styling rooms. They had stripped all the hair beneath your eyebrows, which was no longer very painful since you’d been “maintained” ever since you won 8 years ago. They had also taken care to clean you in scalding hot water and scrub your skin raw. They cut the dead ends of your hair off, keeping it long enough to reach mid back. You were sure Haymitch started fighting them as soon as he saw any kind of razor, tweezer, or wax.

Now you were just waiting for the doctors to come back with the results from your checkup. You had told them that they suspected you were pregnant and asked if there was any way that they’d be able to do a paternity test. They told you that if the father’s DNA was in their system they could tell you and that all tributes’ DNA was logged.

As the door slid open, you sat up eagerly. “Ms. L/N, you are in fact pregnant,” the nurse informed. “About six weeks along.”

“And the father?” you asked.

“Haymitch Abernathy,” she said plainly. You were sure Snow would be upset that you were pregnant with your husband’s baby but now that he was putting you in the games, you didn’t give a damn what he thought or wanted. You were also incredibly relieved it was Haymitch’s. You were never a kids person and had never wanted to have children but if you were going to have someone’s baby, it may as well be the man you love’s.

The nurse talked with you a little more about your labs, saying you were healthy and left. Next Cinna came in. “There’s my favorite mentor,” he smiled, greeting you with a hug.

“Cinna,” you replied with a smile. While you hand he weren’t nearly as close as Katniss and he were, you had very much come to appreciate his friendly face. “Good to see you.”

“You too, although I wish it was under different circumstances. Anyway here is your dress for the parade,” he turned to the door as the rest of the style team brought in your outfit. You were kind of amazed at how beautiful it was. It was a long, almost flowing, A-line, red dress. The bodice was covered in lace and featured a halter top neckline. They did your makeup dramatically with a dark red lip and a mix of reds and blacks for your eyes. As for your hair it was done in an intricate half-up, half down style. When they finally let you look in the mirror you thought you looked like an evil queen.

You were then brought to the chariots where about half the other victors were waiting. You looked around, observing your friends/future competition. Spotting red hair you realized it was Annie. You called over to her as you approached. She looked terrified until she spotted you.

“Y/N” she ran up to you as best she could in her mermaid-like outfit. She gave you a big hug which you returned.

“Where’s Finnick and Mags?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. Her scared look appeared again as she looked around frantically for probably the only two people in the world who brought her real comfort. You noticed she was still hugging you. You were probably a stand in for Finnick until he arrived.

“He’s probably still with the stylist. How are you two?”

“We’re good, or were until the games were announced,” she murmured sadly.

“Hey, don’t think about that right now,” you tried to soothe her. She wasn’t much younger than you but she was so small and fragile looking that you felt like you needed to protect her. “And I can guarantee you Finnick won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will I,” you promised. Assuming Haymitch was right about a plan you were telling the truth. You’d fight to get this poor girl out.

“Annie?” you head a familiar voice call from behind you.

Annie immediately pulled away, recognizing Finnick’s voice. You smiled as you watched the two lovers reunite. You were sure that Finnick, like you, didn’t care about Snow’s rules about availability anymore. He was sending you to your death, who cares if the Capitol’s desire to fuck you was still high?

Soon enough the rest of the Victors were at the chariots, all except one. Haymitch.

Cinna was getting Katniss and Peeta ready when he came to you, the very last chariot. He handed you a remote. “Press this when Katniss presses hers. You’ll know when she does.”

“Wait where’s Haymitch?” you asked.

“I don’t know, probably with Portia,” Cinna explained. “I have to go, he’ll be out soon. Just make sure you look straight ahead, no waving.”

The avoxes were all ushering you into the chariots and you were sure they were frantically trying to find your partner because they were all running around. You were starting to actually get scared when the elevator doors suddenly opened, revealing Haymitch and Portia. He rushed to the chariot, pecking you on the cheek as he got in.

“Where were you? You scared me.”

“Sorry, got held up. I need to talk to you after.”

“I need to talk to you too,” you replied just as the chariots started to pull out. You took your husband’s hand, putting on a blank expression as Haymitch did too. The runway was so loud, there were so many people above you cheering. It wasn’t hard to look disinterested, you were disgusted with them for cheering as you were paraded around before you had to fight to the death.

About halfway down the runway Katniss and Peeta burst into flames. You pressed the button on the remote and out of the corner of your eye you could see Haymitch erupt into flames as well. As you approached Snow, you didn’t even bother to look up at him as the chariot rounded the end of the runway, bringing you all the way back inside where you had started.

You finally took in Haymitch’s appearance. They had cleaned up his beard so it was more cleanly cut. His hair had also been trimmed and washed properly. He was in a suit with no sleeves, showing off muscled arms, identical to Peeta’s. Both eager to hear what the other had to say you grabbed Katniss and Peeta and went to the elevators.

Just as the door was closing Johanna Mason stepped into the elevators. “Well don’t you all look amazing,” she snarled. “My stylist is such an idiot. District 7, lumber, so she dressed us as trees.” She let out a scoff as she started taking the cuffs of her costume off. “I’d like to put my axe in her face.” She stepped closer to Peeta. “Help me with the zipper?” she turned around, not allowing him to answer as he awkwardly unzipped her costume.

You and Haymitch were holding in your laughs as Katniss made a face you couldn’t even identify the emotion of.

She thanked him as she stripped off the costume, standing completely naked in the elevator. The doors opened as you reached floor 7. “Let’s do it again sometime,” as she walked out of the elevator, completely shameless.

“Thank you,” Haymitch said.

You slapped his arm playfully. “See you later,” you called after her.

“Johanna Mason, 7, if you hadn’t figured it out yet,” you informed.

“Is she always like that?” Peeta asked.

You shrugged. “I’ve never seen her strip naked before today but yeah, she hasn’t ever cared. When she was here the first time she was screaming profanities all the way down the chariot line.” The doors then opened into the penthouse, you and Haymitch immediately headed towards your bedroom to hear what the other had to say. You both stepped into the bathroom for privacy.

“You go first,” you said, hoping this was about Plutarch.

“I was late because Plutarch came to see me. Y/N I was right. About a fourth of the tributes are in on the plan to get Katniss out. We’re gonna have to carry on like a normal game at first but Beetee is going to shut down the arena and Plutarch will have us extracted.” You could cry you were so relieved. Haymitch was smiling eagerly. “We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna see a world without the games. Just make sure you stay by me so I can protect you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “And that news makes what I’m about to tell you better.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I’m pregnant.”

Haymitch’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? I kind of suspected but didn’t want to say anything.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. The doctors tested and they were also able to tell me that you’re the father.”

His eyes widened impossibly more. He gingerly pressed his hand to your still flat stomach. “You’re gonna have my kid?” he looked hopeful, excitement fortunately creeping into his expression.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You felt a few tears of joy slip. “I had never wanted kids but the thought of having yours? I want to raise this baby with you, Haymitch.”

“I felt the same,” he agreed. “This world is too fucked up to have a baby so that’s why we have to change it. God, I didn’t know it was possible to love you more,” he kissed you, his hand still planted on your stomach. You deepened the kiss, your hand meeting his.

That night you laid in bed in comfortable silence, more in love than you had ever felt before. “What should we name it?” Haymitch asked.

You mused for a second. “If it’s a boy, I wanted to name him Asher, after my father. And for a girl I thought about Maysilee?”

Haymitch pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I like that.” He paused again. “Should we tell people?”

“The world expects at least one of us to die in about a week. No point in telling people. Besides I think Peeta would jump off that platform before the timer hit zero if he knew I was pregnant,” you explained monotonously.

“Okay, so we won’t tell anyone,” your husband agreed.

The next day at the training session was fairly intense. All of the victors (except those suffering from withdrawal, insanity, and/or age) were trying to show off how still in shape they were. You spent most of the time observing until you did the hand to hand combat station. There were real trainers who would fight you and fake weapons that could sense what wounds they’d inflict in order to simulate the arena as close as possible.

Feeling like being a little bit of a showoff you decided to do it despite your newfound condition. You had made sure Haymitch wasn’t anywhere nearby as you picked up the fake knife and stepped on the mat. The trainer gave you no warning as he suddenly attacked you, running at you with a sword. Fortunately you were still looking at him the entire time so you could easily dodge at the last second. As his momentum carried him forward, you swung your arm back, hitting him in the shoulder with your knife.

“Non fatal wound to left shoulder,” an automated voice announced.

He whirled around, swiping at you with the sword. As you were dodging you got closer and closer to the edge of the mat.

“Approaching boundary,” the voice informed. So you ducked under the sword, flailing your lugs until you caught his ankle, sending him to the ground. His sword fell which you kicked off the mat. He was up in a second though, lunging at you. Your eyes widened in surprise, trying to move out of the way but he managed to grab your arm, dragging you to the ground. You fell with a thud and before you could wrench your arm from his grip, he was on top of you, straddling your hips. He was grabbing at the knife in your hands which you were trying to keep away. You felt it scrape against both his and your arms, each time eliciting a “Non fatal wound to arm.” Eventually you managed to stab it through his hand as the simulator said, and bring it closer to you before you thrust it into his throat.

“Fatal wound to the neck. Simulation ended,” the voice announced. You looked over, noticing a few other tributes watching from their own training spots. Haymitch, however, was fuming over by the knife section.

“You’re awfully tough,” the trainer said, getting off of you. “Impressive, especially considering you won eight years ago,” he complimented.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking his hand to stand up. Now Haymitch was walking over. “I have to go,” you dismissed, meeting up with him. You felt like a kid again as you approached your fuming husband.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. “You could’ve mis-”

“Shh,” you demanded. “And sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re damn right you weren’t thinking!”

You were normally a very patient person, especially with Haymitch. You were sympathetic both when he was drunk and sober but you never took yelling, especially after you already apologized. You let out an indignant laugh. “I just apologized and you’re really gonna yell at me? Find me when you calm down,” you scoffed, walking off.

Haymitch was still angry as he watched you walk off. He had been chatting with Chaff when Chaff had told him to turn around. He was horrified to see you fighting with a man about twice your size. But he knew better than to interrupt so all he could do was stew in worry and anger until it was over. He nearly pulled the trainer off you when he got on top of you. Worried both about your safety and his fetus’. By the time it was done he was angry. Angry that you’d risk your pregnancy. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially in front of so many people but he was so worried. He was honestly a little scared of how much he wanted that baby.

You made; your way over to Finnick and Annie who were making fish hooks together. She had a soft smile on her face as she weaved the feathers onto the hook while Finnick had a soft smile while looking at her. You really hoped they’d both make it out.

Finnick looked up, having noticed you. “Where’s lover boy?”

“You’re one to talk,” you sneered.

“It have something to do with your little show off session?” he asked.

“I wasn’t showing off. I was training,” you scoffed. “Besides, once again, you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean? I've been doing this the whole time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t fully intend to get in there with a trident.”

He scoffed, a look of mocking offense painted on his face. “I would never.”

You laughed, taking a spot next to Annie, observing her work. You spent the next half hour learning how to make fish hooks, occasionally glancing up to watch Haymitch. He mostly stuck to the survival stuff but tried some combat and weapons training. It pained you to watch him fumble in those areas. He definitely wasn’t the most unathletic tribute but he was far from the most athletic. And while you had faith in Plutarch’s plan, not every victor was in on it and athleticism was still very much a part of the game.

Eventually Katniss wandered over, making fishhooks with Mags until she migrated to the archery station. As more tributes went over to watch the newest victor in action, you followed too. You had seen Katniss shoot last year but with so many simulated targets at once you were impressed by how good she was. Everyone else was too as Mags clapped for her when she had completed her round.

You eventually headed back upstairs, not really sure what to do. You had done lots of weapons training, especially knife throwing which had been a skill you utilized in your original games. Knives were always guaranteed to be in the Cornucopia and being able to put distance between yourself and others made the most sense. You worked with a few other weapons, Haymitch giving you worried and disapproving looks the entire time. You got so sick of his looks you moved onto survival but got bored of that quickly so you just went upstairs to lay down.

Haymitch appeared in the doorway sometime later. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Thank you,” you said sitting up. You knew he was coming from a place of love and concern so you were done being mad. Besides, you had been a couple for so long that your arguments could almost always be resolved in a couple sentences.

“Half the tributes want to be our allies. They of course assume we’ll be allies with Katniss. Peeta too but mostly Katniss.”

“Okay well who of the potential allies know about the plan?”

“Wiress and Beetee, Finnick, and by association Mags and Annie,” he answered. “Although Enobaria wants Katniss too but she and none of the other careers know. And a couple others from 5 through 10.”

“Did Katniss say anything?”

“She wants Wiress, Beetee, and Mags. But no Finnick. I told them she’s still considering.”

“What about Johanna, Blight, Chaff, and Seeder? I thought they knew.”

“They do, they just don’t necessarily want to get on Katniss’ crazy train,” he explained, taking a seat on the bed and throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That girl is a piece of work.”

You laughed a little. “She’s not that bad. Yes, a little volatile but so is Johanna and I like her. I like them both,” you added.

Haymitch hummed in agreement. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired but fine. I think everything is fine,” you placed a hand on your stomach. “I’m pretty sure fetuses can take a little knocking around. How would we have survived so long if they couldn’t?”

“Yeah, yeah, just take it easy. No getting punched in the gut,” he chided.

“Aw man, there go my dinner plans,” you jokingly whined.

“Shut up,” he chucked.

The next couple days were largely uneventful. You and Haymitch kept trying to convince Katniss to ally with Finnick or even Johanna but she refused, thinking that they’d stab her and Peeta in the back as soon as the biggest threats were taken out.

Eventually it was finally time for interviews the night before the games. With your permission Cinna tapped into the femme fatale look that had been part of your selling point your first games. It was a satin black dress with gold chains laid across the bodice and forming the straps. It had a high slit that came almost to your hip but your modesty was protected by delicate gold chains that held the top of the slit in place.

Your makeup was done dramatically again. Your red lips had been a part of your look the first games so Cinna had wanted to keep them this year. Your hair was done up in intricate braids with gold weaved through it so as to “not cover up too much of Cinna’s design,” one of the hair stylists told you.

You watched the other interviews as you got ready. You could see through all of them, whether they be extremely calculated or not, they were all a desperate cry to stop the games. Some were subtle like Cashmere and Gloss’ joint interview as “the family of the Capitol.” Johanna’s however, was not at all subtle as she screamed at the crowd and Snow for putting her back into the games. Some just made you outright feel bad for them. Like Annie and Finnick’s joint interview where she clung to his arm, hardly able to get out two words.

Eventually it was your turn. You stood in front of the stage entrance, trying to calm yourself down as Caesar introduced you. “Please welcome the winner of the 67th Hunger Games, Y/N L/N!”

You could hear the crowd erupt into cheers as the doors opened, blinding you. But you stepped out confidently nonetheless, eventually regaining partial sight. “Y/N, stunning as ever, wouldn’t you agree, folks?” Caesar began.

The crowd once again erupted into cheers. “You’re too kind Caesar.”

“I understand you have many sponsors who supported you in your original games and even after,” he explained. You hoped your face didn’t show it but you felt your heart stop. Was he really bringing up your torture in your very public interview? “Let’s hope they’re just as generous this year.”

“Oh I promise them I’ll make it worth their while,” you smirked into the microphone. You’ve been playing this game for a long time. What’s one more night?

“Now I have to ask as the mentor to the lovebirds of 12, is there anyone special in your life?” What kind of questions were these? You gave a polite laugh, shaking your head no. “Oh c’mon, really? With your looks? I find that hard to believe.”

“No not anyone,” you once again denied. “I’ve been on a few dates with some Capitol citizens but nothing serious. I guess eight years after the games still isn’t enough time to get over it.” You left the innocent look on your face.

It was sobering to the audience but Caesar quickly tried to bring the mood up again. “Well I just have a few more questions for you. We’re all very familiar with your protégée’s stylist. Tell me, are you working with Cinna too?”

“I am,” you agreed excitedly, giving them back the Capitol darling they had loved so dearly eight years ago. “No offense to my previous stylist but I think Cinna just gets me more.”

“I agree, this dress and the chariot parade dress suit you very well. And I have to say, you in flames? Breathtaking.”

“Aw thank you,” you smiled. “I’m sure Cinna appreciates it too.”

“Yes and we’re excited to see more of his work soon. Thank you Y/N, it’s been a pleasure. Give it up for Y/N L/N!” The crowd once again gave their cheers as you walked up the stairs, taking your place next to Chaff.

“Our next guest was the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Give it up for Haymitch Abernathy!” You watched as Haymitch approached, only able to see his back from your vantage point. “Haymitch, it’s been too long.”

“Not long enough in this context,” he laughed.

“Ah yes, but wouldn’t it be such an honor to win both Quarter Quells?” Caesar pressed. He probably already knew this would be a difficult interview for the Capitol.

“In theory I suppose. I’m mostly concerned about getting some of the younger victors out though.” The crowd let out cries of sympathy.

“How considerate,” Caesar said solemnly. “And tell us, what was it like to mentor our lovebirds coming up next?”

Haymitch pondered for a second, not quite sure how to answer. He has spent the whole night trying to decide if he’d tell the Capitol about your relationship. “Well I can tell you it wasn’t easy. Katniss can be a little headstrong.”

“Oh well we all know that,” Caesar laughed. “And Peeta?”

“He’s a very kind boy. They’re great together.”

Caesar laughed. “Yes well it’s nice to hear that from someone close to the couple. Now what about you? We’ve already heard from your original protégée about her love life, what about yours? We haven’t heard much from you in the past 25 years.”

Haymitch really thought about dropping a bomb like Peeta did last year but realizing how valuable your sponsors could be in the games, he thought better of it. “Not really. Y/N said that eight years isn’t enough time to get over being in the games. Twenty-five isn’t enough either.”

“Ah well I wish you the best of luck. Ladies and gentlemen, Haymitch Abernathy!”

He joined you up on the platform, squeezing your hand quickly before turning his attention to Katniss as she walked out on stage. Her dress was beautiful, a little over the top but Cinna had outdone himself. The crowd was losing their minds realizing that was Katniss’ unused wedding dress. The audience was completely captivated by her, especially when she revealed the Mockingjay dress that Cinna had weaved into the wedding dress that Snow no doubt made her wear. A daring display of defiance that you unfortunately knew someone would pay the price for.

Next came Peeta with his suave attitude from last year. They spoke for a moment until Caesar brought up the unfulfilled wedding.

“Actually we got married. In secret,” he revealed. You glanced at Katniss as inconspicuously as possible. Fortunately she kept her expression neutral. “We want our love to be eternal. Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. I wouldn’t have any regrets at all if it weren’t…” Caesar pressed him. The entire Capitol was in the edge of their seats, hell you were too. “If it weren’t for the baby.”

The Capitol was shocked, you were shocked, the other victors were shocked, even Katniss was shocked. The audience was losing its mind, some even shouting to stop the games. You half wondered if Peeta knew you were pregnant. He made his way up to the stage, hugging Katniss. You still faced the audience when you felt Haymitch’s hand grab yours. Looking over you could see Katniss holding his other hands so you grabbed Chaff’s wrist. Once everyone was linked you all lifted your arms up. The Victors joined in solidarity against these games and the Capitol.

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

#haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader

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apomaro-mellow · 2 months ago

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Whatever Stevie Wants 10

Part 9

While writing this, I didn’t realize I was plaigirizing Durpleton’s backstory LOL

In accordance with tradition, Steve’s mother waited until they got home, until they were behind closed doors, before she started her tirade on him.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself!”

“As if you care about my happiness!”, Steve shot back.

“Everything your father and I have done has been for your happiness. Including all of the work I’m going to have to do cleaning up this mess.”

“What mess?”, Layton asked, coming into the foyer.

“You’re son slapped Findlay in the face and then threw egg salad in his face”, Margaret said.

“Actually, it was chicken salad.”

Margaret pointed a finger at him. “You and that mouth of yours. Whatever husband we can get for you, I promise he won’t tolerate it the way we have. Now we have to put out this fire before it spreads. People talk Steven!”

Steve shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. You won’t let me near the phones.”

“Son, settle”, Layton started. “You’ve been a good sport and the girls have been liking the nursery.”

“But I will send them to another house”, Margaret warned. “And they’ll be lucky if it’s one of our vacation homes. I’d just as soon send them off with a maid.”

Steve bristled at that, his scent turning sour. His mother pinched her nose.

“I keep forgetting to order you blockers. Honestly, it’s no good the way you throw your scent around. Now, go to your room while your father and I sort this mess out. And don’t even think of going to the nursery. Eleanor has taken the children out on a stroll anyway.”

Steve’s feet stomped with each step and he slammed his door behind him. There had to be something else he could do. Some way he could contact the outside world without a phone. Or at least without his parents knowing. It had been days since he’d last spoken to his real family outside his pups. They must have noticed by now and were doing something about it.

He might be able to convince someone on the staff to let him use theirs, might being the operative word. They were usually more loyal to his mother and father. Steve considered running away on his own. But he couldn’t leave the twins behind. He knew if he did, they’d be shipped off to parts unknown, maybe even separated. He tried to think of who could help him where he was now and there weren’t very many. Folks around here would either be indifferent or send him back to his folks.

Wait-indifference, that could work.

Steve collected himself and went back downstairs, walking past a room where his mother was on the phone, either apologizing to Findlay or planning a party, it was hard to tell. He went right to his father who was on his way out in his golf gear, right on time.

“May I come along?”, Steve asked.

“With me? To the club? Didn’t your mother send you to your room?”

“She did. But I remembered I have to be a team player”, Steve said. “And maybe there’s some nice, younger alphas at the club.”

“Well you know we can’t afford to be picky when it comes to that”, Layton reminded him as he walked out, a silent approval for his son to come along. “But perhaps there is someone. You know Findlay has some kids around your age.”

Steve winced. “Maybe not anyone from that family.”

They arrived at the country club and it took very little to convince his father to go off golfing and leave him on his own. Steve’s front was that he’d find someone to talk to in the tea room or perhaps one of the leisure decks. True to his father’s nature, the man didn’t question the fact that Steve had just returned from brunch or even process what had happened at said brunch.

All he cared for was that his son appeared pleasant, agreeable, and social. So Steve was free to roam. The moment his father was off on the course, Steve looked around for someone his age, maybe even younger. He really didn’t feel like flirting with someone just to get access to their phone, but he would if he must.

He sat down at a table on the deck and allowed his order to be taken as he looked around and then he saw it, a kid with an ipad. Jackpot. Steve scanned the area and found their mother. They were wearing matching clothes and as usual, she was a distance away, distracted. It reminded Steve too much of his childhood, the kind of thing he was trying to save Violet and Vanessa from. But he couldn’t think about that right now.

“Hey”, Steve said, approaching the kid’s table. “It’s probably pretty boring here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah”, the little boy said, not looking up from his screen.

“You know, if you go through that door over there”, he pointed to where servers were coming and going. “Sometimes they give you sweets.”

The boy’s legs kicked a little at that. “Won’t I get in trouble?”

“You might. But they can’t take the cookies out of your stomach when you’ve already eaten them.”

That was all the boy needed to hop out of his chair and head to the kitchen. Steve took the ipad with a smooth motion and went further inside, finding a private bathroom. He went to the apps and of course this five year old child had twitter. Steve couldn’t judge some stranger’s parenting when it was in his favor right now.

He searched around and found exactly what he was looking for. The trending page was full of phrases and hashtags regarding the whole situation #CorrodedCoffin, HE’S MISSING, #Stevegate, and BRING HIM HOME.

Steve wanted to spend hours looking at everything. But he had to be smart with his time. His pack knew he was missing, but Steve didn’t talk about his parents much. While the Harringtons were public figures, Steve could narrow the search down from their many homes.

He opened up the camera and started recording, beginning with who he was. “My name is Steve Munson…”

---------------------

Margaret was waiting for them, glass of wine in her hand. “I don’t like it when people go behind my back.”

Layton looked confused, while Steve froze, afraid he’d been caught already.

“Steve was just at the club with me, on the prowl for a husband”, Layton said.

“He wouldn’t need to prowl if he took this seriously. And when I send someone to their room, I expect them to stay put until I say so.”

“Margaret, you’re too harsh on the boy. He was perfectly well behaved while with me.”

“Oh but of course, you’re his favorite”, Margaret bit out. “I’m just his warden.”

Steve slipped away, not interested in stroking his mother’s ego nor coming to his father’s aid. When he got to his room, he let out a sigh. He’d made the video, posted it on the kid’s account with as many keywords and hashtags as possible, then deleted it from the ipad. Steve wished he could’ve taken it with him, but surely the device had a location tracker. He could only hope the video got shared and viewed for the right people to see.

Corroded Coffin had ended their promotions early, citing issues at home. And it was just that morning that they came public with the fact that Steve, their pack omega, had gone missing after a visit to his parents. Their fans were making waves and news outlets were running with the story. The spouse of a celebrity going missing was juicy news.

Steve wouldn’t be able to see what effect his video would have. All he could hope for was that his parents didn’t see it too soon and that if they did, the coded messages in the video would go over their heads.

“My name is Steve Munson. This is a message to Eddie, Jeff, Grant, and Gareth. The pups are safe, we’re together. I went to visit my parents at a rented villa. They drugged me and now intend to make me break my bonding so that I can mate with someone in their circle. The castle has many defenses. But those unknown by the dragons may have a chance to cast a charm. I urge you to make off with the treasure first. The princess has her own wings.”

Part 11

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #corroded king #omegaverse #a/b/o

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pastelwitchling · 5 months ago

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Could you write a story where Michael finally gets to visit his home planet and he of course takes Alex with him. Every one on the planet is just absolutely smitten with Alex and Michael is so damn proud? ❤

@ashleymarie1684

***

At first, Michael had thought it was a joke. His brother had come to his and Alex’s house, sat down with a solemn expression and a promise in his eyes, and asked him if he wanted to go to Oasis.

“There’s a lab,” he’d explained, “below the throne room. A portal here and back closes every week. Liz and I were looking into it with Dallas’s help, and we think we can open it on this side. Just the one time, and then when you come back, there’s no chance of opening it again or we risk sending all of Roswell through.

“And Michael,” he’d held Michael’s gaze here, reassuring, “the palace is safe for humans. It was part of Nora and Louise’s experimenting when they were making me, they knew I’d need to adjust to different climates, and their air filter’s just been running the whole time. If you’re still worried about Alex getting radiation poisoning again, I’ll just heal him when you guys get back anyway, so he’s at no risk.” His fingers interlocked, his knuckles white, Max had said, “What do you think, brother?”

Michael hadn’t known what to say, what to believe, but Alex – his always-steady, controlled, loving Alex – was pressed to his side; he took Michael’s hands, which he hadn’t realized he’d been clenching hard enough to carve his nails into his skin, and interlocked their fingers, giving him something else to cling to.

“We’ll leave as soon as possible.”

That was how Michael found himself now, staring out a large arched window in an even larger room, overlooking a landscape of shimmering trees, bushes, and a mountainside that all glittered like the pieces of his spaceship. The scientist part of Michael wanted to go outside and test the grounds, see if they felt anything like his alien glass. The bigger side didn’t dare leave Alex out of his eyesight, and if he was being honest with himself, just didn’t want to go without Alex, period. It was strange, not what he’d expected. They’d been here two days, the initial shock overshadowed by the palace full of people who knew him and called him by a name he had a hard time remembering seconds after he’d heard it.

They’d known of Max, but it was Michael and Isobel who they’d remembered as children. Michael didn’t remember any of them, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got that look,” Alex sighed, leaning against the wall on the other side of the window, his arms crossed.

“What look?”

Alex smiled, amused. “That ‘I’m-stuck-in-my-head-and-can’t-get-out’ look.” He tilted his head, his bangs falling over his beautiful eyes. “Talk to me, baby.”

Michael swallowed. They were alone now, still dressed in their flannel and jeans and winter jackets, and Michael stole glances at his husband, checking for any sign of black veins peeking out of his collar or sleeves. He’s fine, he kept telling himself, he’s safe.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he murmured, eyes searching the eternally-twilit sky, hoping that the stars or the planets and multiple moons he could see from here would give him some answers. He kind of wished he could just go up to the roof and map them out, but the rest of his charts weren’t here. They were back home, covering the coffee table of their living room because he always got swept up in his work, marked with dark rings from Alex’s steaming cups of tea, forgotten when Michael would take him inside to ravish him.

“Nothing,” Alex said loyally.

Michael’s lips quirked into a small smile despite himself. “Well, thank you. I guess I just . . . I don’t know, I thought I’d get here and feel . . . right, you know? This is where I belong, this is what I’ve been waiting for, this is what I’ve been working towards. Now I’m here and . . .”

Alex watched him quietly, waiting. His steadiness helped Michael breathe a little easier; he had no idea how tense he was until he exhaled shakily, the knot unraveling in his shoulders.

He shrugged, a little helpless smile tugging at his lips. “I miss our home.” Alex’s eyes softened, but he didn’t look particularly surprised. Now that Michael had started, however, a dam opened and he huffed, “I miss our lazy Sunday mornings, and dinner on the living room couch, and smelling coffee when I wake up because you’re always up before me, and everything just feels so much more alive because . . . because it might not have been the home I had been working for, but it was the home we’d been working for, and now it just kind of feels like I’m a visitor in the place I’m supposed to be, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“You’re supposed to be with me,” Alex said easily, like it was just fact. “And we’ve only been here two days, Michael. If you wanted to spend a longer time, years, until we created another home here, we can do that.”

Michael pursed his lips, eyes burning. He couldn’t voice his mess of thoughts, so he just shook his head. No, he silently said, I don’t want that.

He couldn’t stay here without Max and Isobel, he couldn’t stay without Walt and Dallas and even the Ortecho sisters and Valenti who he’d deny were growing on him. Most of all, he couldn’t trap Alex here. He’d never be able to go outside, to explore, to see anything beyond the walls of the palace which he’d been doing since they’d gotten here. The closest his husband would ever get to fresh air would be this; standing by a window. He couldn’t doom the man he loved to that, and even if Alex was fine with it, Michael would never be. Alex was his heart, his thoughts, the air in his lungs; how would he ever be able to breathe knowing that he was yet again someone in Alex’s life that forced him to settle for good enough?

“Let’s give it another week,” Alex said, taking Michael’s hand. “Get your fill of the place, and then if you still want to leave, we’ll leave. Where you go, I go, Michael. As long as you’re here, I don’t care where we are.” His smile widened, like he was fighting off a laugh. “And stop scanning me, I’m fine. If I had any trouble breathing, I promise I’d tell you.”

Michael swallowed, running his hands over Alex’s chest, just to feel his beating heart. “I know, I know that.”

“Do you though?” he said, definitely laughing now.

Just like that, the weight on Michael’s chest dissipated, and he smiled, about to retort when –

“Mr. Guerin,” a butler, Jeremy, glided in, and Michael almost jumped. Everyone was so freaking quiet here and softspoken. The whole butler thing had also taken a minute to get used to, but someone had to mind the palace, he guessed, especially since its rulers had been sent to earth.

Yeah, Michael wasn’t going to start unpacking the truth of that either. Oasis had thrived without them, and he believed the people he’d met were legitimately good. They aided those who came to the palace in need of any food or shelter or supplies. Honestly, Michael had kind of felt like he was getting in the way when he’d arrived. Still, Jeremy had been so attentive and kind that he had a hard time feeling unwanted here.

“Yeah?” he started, but Jeremy was already hurrying towards Alex.

“Mr. Guerin,” he scolded as much as a softspoken man could, “you forgot your scarf! The weather is terribly cold for a human, you could get sick!”

Alex smiled, a little bemused as he’d been since they arrived and everyone lavished him with attention. “Thanks, Jeremy, but I’m fine.”

“Fine doesn’t keep the body strong, does it?” he demanded.

“Oh, Mr. Guerin!” a tall woman appeared, Sofie, mittens on and a tray of what looked like rainbow cookies in her hands. Michael tried to answer, but she’d come right up to Alex as well. “I made your favorites! You said you liked Germanium cookies, didn’t you?”

“Is that what that flavor was?” Alex blinked. “Yeah, uh, I loved them.”

Sofie beamed, her face red. “I’m also making clam stew for dinner! We fished them just this morning out of the river for you, so they ought to be –”

“Excuse me, Sofie,” Jeremy said, “but I believe I was speaking to Mr. Guerin first.”

“You’ve gotten your fill,” she openly whined. “I want to look at him – er, talk to him!”

“Does anyone care I’m here?” Michael muttered when the two started politely arguing for Alex’s attention.

“I care,” Alex said, once again ready as though nothing mattered to him except Michael knowing how important he was.

“Mr. Guerin!” another voice boomed, this one belonging to a large man, Marian, with a stethoscope around his neck, except this one had jewels at the end of it and was mostly made of glass. Michael didn’t even bother acknowledging the summons this time as Marian came to a stop in front of Alex, panting. “Mr. Guerin, please, you must watch your blood pressure here! This atmosphere isn’t always safe for humans, you shouldn’t be standing next to the window, of all places!”

Alex smiled kindly and thanked everyone for their attentiveness, and they all swooned and softened in a way people only did for Alex, and Michael watched on, hiding a secret smile.

Despite his teasing, he had been beaming at the love Alex had received since they’d gotten here. He might stick around another two weeks just because he’d felt bad about leaving Oasis in the first place – though that hadn’t been his fault – and he wanted to give these people someone to adore, at least for a while. He got Alex for the rest of their lives. He supposed he could share his husband for a few more days.

Just as long as everyone kept their hands to themselves; he was kind, not a saint.

***

Happy Malex Monday ❤️

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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vivianleighwishesshewasme · 10 days ago

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Rock a Bye Baby

Tommy and Grace tell Charlie about the baby. He reacts differently than expected.

__________________________________________________________

Both parents had agreed to tell Charlie before bed, now they’d wished they’d done it this morning.

This morning before all the well wishers gave their thoughts to the happy parents-to-be again, before the collective Shelby family was told and before dinner had ended.

They’d heard it all but the most consistent thing they were being told outside of the standard congratulation was this…

“He won’t be happy about it. He’s been an only child for several years.” Several older family members had loved saying this over and over to both expectant parents.

“Don’t expect him to like the baby when it comes. He’ll be jealous.”

“Our kids got so upset when we told them another baby was coming.” John and Esme had laughed, not catching Grace's tight smile. They already had a small army. This was different for her and Tommy. They’d been trying for a few years now and every month she bleed was a mounting disappointment.

Now if they both admitted it out loud they were nervous.

They had sent their last guest off for the night and turned to one another embracing before they walked upstairs. Neither one wanted to tell their child the news now.

They’d found him playing upstairs. His cousin Karl had left with his mum. Charlie was playing on the floor in his bedroom with a wooden race track from his birthday. Little metal horses raced around as he made horse noises. Tommy had bought it for his fourth birthday a few months back. Charlie played with it nonstop.

They nodded to each other, steeling up their resolve as a unit and walked hand in hand.

“Is your horse winning? Charlie.” Tommy asked, causing his son to look up at him as the little windup horses continued to race without the child's interference. Sometimes Charlies liked to push his favorite one to ensure its victory. Tommy was always proud of that little detail.

“I fixed it da.” He said beaming up at his father, his chubby cheeks flush from the night's activities of running with John and Ada’s pack of wild gypsy children.

“So yes, you're winning then?” Grace smiled up at Tommy and shook her head. He was very clearly proud of his son.

“Charlie, we have something to tell you.” Grace said, hoping he’d continuing listening.

“What, now, I'm playing.” he said, clearly annoyed. That was until he saw his fathers stern expression. A smile grew from Charlie's face as he looked at his parents now. He was as cheeky as his father.

“Charlie, it's important and you'll show respect to ya mum, ya?” Tommy said leaving no room for an argument but it had been said gently enough the boy nodded and blushed at his folly.

“Yes.” Charlie said. Grace laughed knowing Charlie's favorite person was his father. She didn’t mind. He was one of her favorite people too.

“Charlie, you're going to be a big brother soon. Mummy is going to have a baby.” Grace patted her stomach gently and grinned down at Charlie, her eldest child.

“ Oh, okay.” Charlie said plainly and turned back to winding up his horses for yet another race.

Grace looked at her husband clearly dismayed by his small reaction but Tommy shrugged and kissed her head.

“He didn’t yell or scream Grace, give him time.” Tommy led his wife out so Charlie could play in peace and he could comfort Grace.

_______________________________________________________________

They came back upstairs after a few drinks together and saw the light under the nursery shining onto the platform. The door cracked open and they could hear a little voice softly singing.

Grace practically ran once she realized Charlie was singing an Irish lullaby she often sang to him even now. She bent by the crack of the door and peaked in motioning Tommy to do the same. He smiled and followed suit chuckling softly when he saw Charlie.

He stood perched on a stool over a baby bassinet and gently rocked his teddy bear back and forth while singing little bits of the song his mother had taught him.

“Okay baby, you go night night now. I love you.” Grace had to cover her mouth as she smothered the noise that was about to come out. The scene before the two parents was so sweet it left soft glistening tears in their eyes.

Charlie leaned over and kissed his teddy. He went to turn and hop off the stool . Both parents scattered by the stairs as if they were just coming up to not alert Charlie to what they’d seen. He smiled and went into his room, a big boy now not wanting baby kisses himself at night.

At least that’s what he’d told his mum the night before. She’d snuck in later to pepper his face with kisses.

“See Grace, he is excited. You just needed to let him think a bit.” Tommy said as he kissed her face and she leaned her head into his shoulder.

He was excited after all to be a big brother.

#peaky blinders fanfic #thomasshelby #grace burgess #big brother #fluff #family

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scribbling-punk · 11 days ago

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Rebuilding

Lena sits alone in the restaurant with a glass of scotch pressed close to her palm, her jaw working harshly as she silently fumes. Kara had promised that she wouldn’t miss their date this evening, that celebrating 15 years of marriage would come before anything going on at work, but after sitting here alone for almost an hour, Lena has to accept that Kara has either forgotten or bailed.

She sighs, her back teeth furiously grinding as she gestures for the waiter to bring the check. It’s typical, really, and Lena wonders why she’s even surprised considering they’ve barely shared a word that hasn’t been about the kids in months.

Lena throws back the rest of her scotch and pays the check as soon as it arrives, ignoring the awkwardly apologetic smile from the waiter who has realized that Lena has been stood up. Smoothing down her dress, Lena heads towards the exit and hails the first cab that passes, her lips pursed with disapproval as she pulls her cell phone out of her purse and checks her messages.

There’s still nothing from Kara.

The apology text will come later, but it will mean very little and they’ll no doubt argue about this tomorrow; just like they always do.

It doesn’t take long to reach their apartment building and Lena offers the cab driver a generous tip before she heads inside. She doesn’t look in the mirror inside the elevator, unwilling to see the disappointment that she knows must be etched on her features—disappointment that Lena is quick to hide beneath a mask of indifference as she steps into their apartment.

She pays the babysitter and makes sure the kids didn’t give the teenager any problems before closing the door behind her and blowing out a heavy sigh. Lena remembers a time when they were happy, when she and Kara were a solid team who made time for themselves on a weekly basis; taking a break from the kids to make sure that they were on the same wavelength.

Now, though, Lena wonders if they’d even still have a conversation if it weren’t for the children sleeping across the apartment.

Kicking off her shoes, Lena pads across the apartment and quietly opens the door to their daughter’s room. The little one is sound asleep, bathed warmly in the glow of her nightlight and her blankets half hanging off the bed. Elizabeth is a puppy sleeper—as Kara once called it—and Lena smiles softly as she tucks the blankets back into place and tenderly kisses the 6 year old’s forehead.

She checks on Kieran next, the pre-teen still awake and reading a comic on his bed. He looks up when Lena slips into his room and perches on the edge of his bed, his brow instantly crinkling as she easily spots the weariness on his mother’s face.

“Did Mama miss your date?”

The again is wisely left off, but Lena still catches it.

She reaches out to smooth his hair, her palm cupping his cheek for a brief second. He’s getting so big these days and Lena wonders how much longer she has left before shows of affection like this are shrugged off in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy.”

The first 4 parts are live and ready to read early on Patreon!

#rebuilding #cheating #rebuilding a relationship #kara x lena #supercorp #early access

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avengerscompound · 1 year ago

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The Interview - Chapter 1

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist

Rating: E

Warnings: On the series; smut, family trauma, bad workplaces On this chapter; sexual innuendo

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 3109

Summary: Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America. Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

A/N: IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

It was the dream life. An apartment on the upper west side of New York, located in a beautiful old brownstone. A career in journalism. Getting to interview an actual Avenger. When Melody Danes boiled down her life to its bones, it was exactly how she had planned it out.

Of course, that did ignore some pretty glaring oversights. Like how she actually had two jobs. The journalist position was an underpaid internship that barely covered food let alone rent and bills. Or that the internship was with the Daily Bugle, one of the most despicable publications in the world, with the worst boss she had ever worked for. Or how she lived with her cousin in a one-bedroom apartment, because neither of them could afford anything bigger in the city - even with Bobbi working three jobs. Something that left Melody relegated to a bed that was walled off from the rest of the living room with bamboo screens, while Bobbi got the bedroom because she paid the bigger portion of the rent. Or the fact that the apartment itself was a shit hole that had unreliable plumbing, heat, and super to fix anything.

Still, she didn’t like to complain. She was in New York, the city she’d dreamed about living in her whole life. Plus, there were worse roommates than Bobbi. Melody and Bobbi had grown up in the same small town in Oregon. They weren’t technically even cousins, but rather the children of best friends who had been born a few months apart. The two ‘cousins’ had grown up together being subjected to years and years of taunting about when the two would get married, and constant mentions of Bobbi being Melody’s boyfriend despite the fact Melody had always seen Bobbi more as a sibling than a potential romantic partner.

Of course, back then Bobbi had been known as Roberto. Interestingly, as soon as she’d transitioned, all jokes about Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez had stopped immediately because suddenly, it wasn't only Melody and Bobbi being made to feel uncomfortable but their parents as well.

The two had remained close throughout everything and had made the promise that they would support each other to get their dreams realized. Melody’s dream of being a journalist or author, and Bobbi’s of acting. Yes, there were occasional disagreements that popped up stemming from sharing such a small space, but through it all they’d held on to that support.

That was why, when Melody had come home freaking out about the fact she was going to interview the Captain America - and not just for a short piece, but an in-depth personality profile over a week, Bobbi was the first one to congratulate her. She then brought all her friends from her job at the dinner theatre to help find her something to wear.

It was why she was now headed down East 45th in heels that were a little too big and a pantsuit that was a little flashier than she would have liked, looking for the Comfort Diner.

Despite being a little wobbly on her feet, she felt good. Nervous. Excited. But good. The pantsuit did make her look professional, and her friends had done her hair so her black curls were pinned back in an almost 1920s-style wave that was folded over in a loop at the nape of her neck. Her makeup was immaculate and her copper complexion gave off an almost glow in the light. More importantly, this interview was her golden ticket. It wasn’t even supposed to be Melody that got this interview. The person who was originally assigned to it had written one too many scathing think pieces about the Avengers. She’d been told neither Captain Rogers nor any of the other Avengers were willing to talk to her anymore. A quick scramble through the other reporters had only brought back people who were either in the middle of assignments or were equally loathed by the Avengers and so they had handed it to the intern with the most promise. Melody Danes.

As she made her way down the street, her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. It was just a brief catch, but given her shoes were the wrong size it caused her to stumble forward directly into a huge wall of muscle.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the wall said as it steadied her with large hands.

She was about to answer that ‘she was until some stranger called her ma’am’ when she looked up into the clear blue eyes of Captain America, and the words caught in her throat.

He was somehow even more attractive in person. He had a broad chest and muscular arms that seemed to be testing the tensile strength of his shirt as he supported her.

That was not what drew her attention most. His face held her captivated. His skin was flawless, his pores so small they almost looked airbrushed out, and his complexion was the color of peaches and cream. He had a square jaw and a straight, narrow nose that both exuded masculinity. Yet, his high cheekbones, full lips, and long dark eyelashes were all beautifully feminine. All this paired with the pale blue of his eyes and for a moment she was lost for words.

“I’m fine,” she said when her brain finally kicked into place again. “Embarrassed mostly. I’m actually going to meet you for lunch.”

“You’re the one from the Bugle?” Steve asked, his tone giving away his surprise.

“That’s right,” she said, straightening herself out. She offered him her hand. “I’m Melody Dane from DB. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Steve replied, shaking her hand. “I guess you just weren’t what I expected.”

The two began making their way to the diner together, both still staring at each other.

“What were you expecting?” she asked.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. A trilby with a press pass sticking out of it?”

She started laughing. “I’ll wear one next time. Though I do have my press pass here if you’d like me to stick it in my hair or something.”

Steve’s laughter joined her and he shook his head. “That’s okay. You can keep it in your purse.”

They entered the cute little 50s-style diner and took one of the booths up the back. The greeter set them up with menus and left to get their drinks while they decided what they wanted. She set up her recorder and notepad on the table.

“So, I’m not sure what it is you were after,” Steve said as his eyes flicked over the menu. “The Bugle is always just investigative reporting, and if I’m honest, they don’t do a great job investigating.”

She laughed. “You’re telling me,” she said. “It’s barely above a tabloid magazine. It runs on sensationalism. But with the way that the internet is affecting print media, they’re trying to branch out into different things. This is technically a profile piece for a yet-to-be-named magazine. They want a story about the man behind the shield. I’ll come talk to you a few times over the next week. We’re going to do a little tour of Brooklyn so you can tell me how it’s changed. Other than that, whatever access you’re willing to give me, the better I can craft the article. I’m not here to make you look bad. We just want a piece that shows the world that there’s more to you than a flag.”

“How does that fit in with Jameson’s whole superhero menace thing he does? I mean, this was going to be conducted by Norah Winters, right? She’s not exactly our biggest fan either?” Steve asked.

“I’m not Norah Winters,” Melody said. “Norah Winters couldn’t even get you to agree to sit down with her. I’m hoping that the fact they chose me after running through just about everyone else in the paper, might allow for some room to grow trust.”

Steve nodded and poured himself a glass of water. “Okay. Well, I’m here. I guess we’ll see how we go.”

“My first question is; why did you want me to meet you here? You were asleep for the 1950s, so it can’t be a nostalgia thing,” she asked.

“Honestly? I’ve never actually been here before,” Steve said. “I just wanted somewhere that wasn’t intruding on my space, that was relaxed enough that I didn’t feel like I was on display.”

“Do you often feel on display?” she asked.

“All the time,” he said. “Since the day I was given the serum. It’s part of the job. There are people out there who are okay just saving the day and slinking back into the shadows, but what I do - or at least what I hope I’m doing - is giving people someone to rally behind. It means that I draw attention to myself and I have to make sure that what I believe in is stated clearly or people use me as a symbol of oppression. It means that I need to teach with actions, not words.”

The waitress came over with the drinks and Melody and Steve placed their orders. She opted for the soup and sandwich, while Steve went for the steak.

When she was alone again, she took a sip of her coffee and watched Steve toy with his cup. The white branded mug looked tiny in his hands. “Does that get hard?” she asked. “Being on all the time. I mean no one is perfect.”

He nodded. “But I hope what I do helps in some way. Not just the obvious ones where I save lives because of an alien attack. But maybe if people see that I am standing up for people, they might do it too. I mean - I wasn't always this-” he gestured vaguely to himself. “I was this tiny guy with a huge list of medical conditions….”

“I did read that list,” she said. She’d done her research coming into this. She’d known Steve Rogers had been marked 4F several times and that the list of his medical conditions was as long as her arm. “People always seem to always focus on the asthma, but some of those conditions are debilitating.”

Steve nodded. “I was a perpetual letdown for my father. All he wanted was a good strong son who could follow in his footsteps, but what he got was a sick kid they didn’t expect would make it to adulthood,” he explained. “The ulcers paired with the anemia were the worst. I had to eat a pound of raw liver a day but I was constantly throwing up or having heartburn. You're right, there were a lot of conditions but those two were the worst. It’s given me a weird relationship with food now.”

She was surprised by how open he was. She’d expected him to be a little more closed off this early on and yet, he was freely sharing details about the trouble he had growing up. “What do you mean by that?”

The waiter chose that moment to bring over their meals. Steve looked down at the steak in front of him. “Well, take this,” he said. “Steak is fine. But is it what I wanted? I’m not even sure. I chose it because it looked like it was the best combination of protein and carbohydrates to get me through until dinner. The serum has made it so I burn through calories so fast, so if I eat something like pancakes or pie, I end up having a crash an hour or so later. And I can’t have that because it means I have to eat again. And for a guy who grew up through the great depression with medical conditions that made it so that he had to eat pounds of raw meat that I’d just end up throwing up - well I can’t take constantly eating throughout the day.”

Her heart broke for him and she had to resist the urge to reach over the table and take his hand. “So what you’re saying is, you really wished you’d ordered pancakes?”

He gave a little side nod. “Kinda, yeah,” he said. “But even acknowledging that out loud - I will still just eat this steak. But I’ll feel uncomfortable eating in front of you because you’re a stranger, even though I need it to get through the rest of the day.”

She nodded in understanding. The burden of trauma was a hard thing to shake. Even if you were a superhero. “That really does suck. I do understand it though. It’s hard to retrain yourself. In fact, if you figure out how to do it, let me know.”

He smiled at her and began to cut his steak. She took a moment to take a bite from her sandwich. It was surprisingly good for something from a diner and she couldn’t help the soft hum that escaped her lips. “I don’t want you to have to dwell too much on your illnesses if you don’t want to - but I do have one more specific question about it. Is it true they used to treat asthma with cigarettes back then?”

Steve laughed. “They used to treat lots of things with cigarettes,” he said. “The asthma ones weren’t usually tobacco cigarettes mind you. Not that they were necessarily better than tobacco ones. If memory serves me arsenic and belladonna were some key ingredients used. They also told my mom to give them to me for the scoliosis and heart palpitations. But they played havoc on my stomach. They also told me I should drink a lot of coffee.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “You ever wonder what the things we all accept as true now will be looked at as being completely crazy in the future?”

Steve thought for a moment and when he spoke it was almost like he was talking to himself. “Circumcision.”

She nearly choked on her soup, which made Steve laugh and lean over, patting her on the back. “I’m sorry. It was the first thing that popped into my head. I mean - that wasn’t even something people did much out of religious reasons back in my day.”

“You’re totally right. They brought it in in the fifties to stop men masturbating, but I wasn’t expecting Captain America to bring up circumcision,” she said, still laughing.

“I’m so sorry,’ Steve said again. “God - I can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s fine,” she giggled. “Seriously. Oh man…”

Steve ran his hand down his face. “I will say this though,” he said. “Even after all this time with the serum, I still feel like I’m that guy. I still feel like that 95-pound piece of chewed bubblegum. I still remember every time I got beaten by some bully trying to keep me down and I still remember getting up, because my mom always said you keep getting up or they win. I still go into every battle remembering that and holding it with me, because I know what it’s like to have someone try and use their strength to keep me down and I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

She nodded and wrote the quote ‘I still feel like that 95-pound piece of chewed up bubblegum’ into her notebook. “What did it feel like when you changed?”

“It was really sudden. I went into this thing that was like a metal coffin and pumped full of these drugs while they irradiated me. The process was excruciatingly painful. I started changing right away. It felt like I was being stretched out in all directions. Then it stopped and the pain stopped with it. And not just the pain of the change. All my pain. My stomach didn’t hurt. My chest didn’t hurt. I didn’t have pain in my back. When I took a breath it went in easily and filled my lungs. And then on top of the very noticeable lack of pain, I had other things, like my heart didn’t feel like it was racing for a change. I could see colors properly. I don’t even think I could describe what that was like. And all of it mixed together …” he trailed off and shook his head. “I apologize, I’m going to be crass again and I hope that you might do me the favor by paraphrasing this, so I don’t sound like some kind of pervert, but it was like that feeling you have when you orgasm, only magnified by a hundred.”

“Wow,” she said and took a large bite from his sandwich. She chewed it thoughtfully as she tried to imagine how extreme that would feel. “That’s something.”

He nodded. “It’s a shame that they lost the formula. I mean - I know having a bunch of rogue super-soldiers out in the world isn’t necessarily a good thing, but if there was a way you could cure disease as easily as that still out in the world, imagine how far we would have come by now?”

She nodded. “It would have been an impressive piece of medical science. And it would be a very different world where no one had to worry about illness.”

They both sat quietly in thought for a moment as they ate. “So,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “I said before, we wanted to get to know the man behind the shield, and I’m certainly hoping I get to know the real Steve Rogers doing this, but do you think there’s a difference between Steve Rogers and Captain America?”

“Of course,” Steve answered quickly. “I think that’s true for everyone, right? I’m sure you sitting there interviewing me isn’t the same person you are when you’re home with your family or out with your friends. Knowing the publication you work for, I’m sure it’s not even the same person you are in the office. We put different aspects of ourselves forward all the time. If you’re asking where the divide between Steve Rogers and Captain America is - I’m not sure. I’ve put so much of myself into this for so long… I don’t know who I am without it. I know I’d always want to stand up and fight for what I believe in. I know I’d always want to stand up for the little guys. But aside from that… I couldn’t say.”

She frowned a little. “I guess I can see how that could happen,” she said. Though the admission made her realize something, article or no article, she wanted to find out who Steve Rogers was for his sake as much as how drawn to him she already was.

// NEXT

#marvel #avengers #marvel fanfic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america fanfic #steve rogers x oc #fanfic #fanfiction #ofc #smut #the interview

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