#for over a year so he hasn’t had the time to take care of it

[mixingandmelting]

Crashing Unannounced

Summary: rating how bad they are with coming over without telling you

A/N: Inspired and can be treated as a part-two of this request here

Dick: Bad

Does it whenever he misses you especially when it’s been a long time since he last saw you, having a  impulsive urge to just see you out of the blue, wanting comfort, worried about you

If he could, he’d be doing it everyday as it would mean he’d get to stay with you but he does he respect personal boundaries

Also cherishes your safety and keeps it as his top priority. He’s not exactly a normal person to go out with, having been targeted as both Nightwing and Dick Grayson before

Mostly does it when you’re there where he tries to do it when your awake, knocking on the window with a grin that goes from hopeful to full out joy when he manages to surprise you in a good way

When you’re asleep and either of you are going through a bad time, he enters and ends up snuggling with you in bed

Ask him how he got here when you wake up and he’ll just mumble arbitrarily “through the door” before pulling you towards him and spooning you

Jason: Not as bad

He’s not as frequent as Dick where he also does it when he really misses you whether it’s random or he hasn’t seen you in a while and you’re awake. Though he does it more out of worry whether you're in danger, having a bad time, or sick or when he really needs comfort and support which equates to essentially you

Cares about privacy and personal space since it’s his first time in an actual relationship so he doesn’t want to cross a line

Also because being a crime lord-turned-vigilante isn’t the safest job career and can lead you to be put in danger

When it comes to coming over unannounced and taking you completely off guard though - yeah, he does that though

If you’re not there and he needs(wants) to see you, he’ll stay at your place and wait until you come back. Legit even texts where are you if he’s been waiting for a while and if you ask why, he’ll bluntly answer that he’s over your place 

Has surprised you in your own living room where he’d be casually sitting on the couch, helmet/muzzle off surfing through the channels, looking up and asking you what took you so long before cuddling with you and hanging out

Tim: Really Bad

Bold of you to assume he drops by only when you’re there. He drops by every time when he’s around regardless if you’re there or not because he’s always wanting to be around you

Occurred even before the two of you started dating, watching over you to make sure your life is going fine and no one or a thing is causing harm to you because that’s how bad he had and still has for you

Knocks on the glass window to get your attention if you’re there so he could hang out for a bit

Most of the time though you’re not there, so he sneaks in to make sure everything isn’t out of the ordinary and that you’re still okay

Always leaves a gift as a sign that he was there because he ironically feels guilty entering your home and at least he isn’t randomly dropping by empty handed, right…?

In a way it’s Christmas for half the year with how many times he comes over when you’re that 

Duke: Good

He was taught to be a gentleman so it’s extremely rare for him to crash unannounced

Always rings on the doorbell or knocks on the front door if it doesn’t have one while coming over after he gets the okay from you whether it’s in person, call, or text

Even when he’s suddenly wanting to see you, he gives you a heads up that he’s going your way and asks if it’s alright to stop by

The times he actually arrives unannounced is when he notices you’re going through something and he wants to cheer you up or help you out. Maybe even plan a mini, impromptu surprise party with food, flowers, or a stuffed bear in the tow

If not, it’s when something bad is going down and he wants to make sure that you’re safe and sound

Makes sure to knock on the window but most times, again, he’s getting your attention through the front door

Damian: Worst of the worst

Every day, every time, whether it’s because he’s bored, he’s wanting your affection, he needs something from you. Sometimes even when there’s no reason, it’s just because

Depending on his mood, he’ll casually enter your bedroom and stay there until you come back and enter it so he could get entertained by your reaction

Or purposely wakes you up by tapping the window so he could talk to you

Bet on him observing your sleeping form both out and inside your home, feeling the tingles in his heart how peaceful you look before he places the gift he got you at your bedside 

Of course, with a complimentary note that tells you not to think too into it, he only got it at a whim (it actually took him a few days to get the courage to get it for you)

Overall, it’s a reminder you’re not safe from him and it’s better to stay alert. Also the so-called “traps” you set up never work on him, so you can stop bother doing those now. He’s not a mouse

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

PHANTOM TROUPE HEADCANONS

all headcanons are based off of impressions from canon info!!!

General:

Has a weakness for women: Machi, Phinks, Pakunoda

Has a weakness for children: Franklin

Has a weakness for both: Chrollo, Hisoka (in a twisted way), Illumi (in a twisted way)

Doesn’t care; they’re all the same once they’re dead: Feitan, Shalnark, Shizuku, Bonolenov, Uvogin, Kortopi, Kalluto (Kalluto literally IS a kid😭)

Depends on the situation: Nobunaga

—

Showers once a day: Pakunoda, Machi, Hisoka, Nobunaga, Feitan

Showers once every three days: Shalnark, Franklin

Showers every time they remember to (they remember somewhat often): Chrollo, Shizuku, Illumi, Kalluto

Showers every time they remember to (they remember once every 3 months): Phinks, Uvogin, Bonolenov, Kortopi

—

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“I’d study all of the worm behaviors, wants, needs, and communication skills just to be able to take the best care of you that I possibly can” - Chrollo, Shalnark, Franklin, Pakunoda

“Uh…” - Nobunaga, Phinks, Uvogin

“No.” - Feitan, Machi, Shizuku, Bonolenov, Kortopi, Kalluto

“I don’t know, would you be a hot worm?” - Hisoka

———

Individual

- Despite his rough attitude and appearance, Phinks has a soft spot for women, especially stern and nurturing women. As a child in Meteor City, he was always irresponsible and made stupid decisions. However, kind ladies who were just as poor as him would always help him out; whether it was giving him some extra food and water or knitting him a blanket when it was cold out and all of his shoes and clothes had holes in them. Since then, Phinks developed a more tender nature towards women.

- Shalnark once accidentally entered the Dark Web when the Troupe first began its operations (around age 13-14.) However, he quickly got addicted to it due to how advantageous it was for him, especially since residents of Meteor City “don’t exist” and therefore won’t have their identity exposed on the Dark Web. After learning that earning a Hunter License grants him even more freedom on the Dark Web, he did the Hunter Exam that year and passed with ease.

- Chrollo’s favorite foods are bread, soup, and stew. In Meteor City, stale bread seems to be the standard there. Soup was often just some leftover vegetables from nearby towns dumped inside of water, mixed, and then served. Stew was considered a delicacy in Meteor City and is only ever given to you on New Years, Christmas (because Meteor City seems to be very religious as the Church is the cleanest, largest, and seemingly richest building), and someone’s birthday. Chrollo often feels nostalgic whenever he eats these foods.

- When Pakunoda was younger, she had an “I wish I was a boy” phase. She wanted to be help others with carrying things and digging through trash heaps too, no matter how filthy it was. But all because she was a girl, she wasn’t allowed to. Although she was deeply grateful for her wet nurses (yes, it’s canon that wet nurses take care of the children in Meteor City), she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life just taking care of kids and doing nothing else, hence why she shaved all of her hair off.

- Feitan developed an emotional attachment to Phinks’ motorbike from when they were kids, and in the first time in his life, Feitan almost cried when the motorbike eventually broke down when they got older. It had been with him during his highs and lows, so for it to just suddenly stop working one day left Feitan in a state of shock. Even to this day, he still spends time in Meteor City cleaning it even though it doesn’t work anymore. Even Phinks has gotten over yet, and yet Feitan still hasn’t.

- Feitan is so short due to a mix of malnutrition and bad genes. When he was a child, he was mistreated by his parents, who were poor and couldn’t feed him, and so he was then abandoned at Meteor City. However, Meteor City had starvation even worse than at home. If Feitan had a normal childhood, his height expectancy rate would be around 5’6 or 5’7, which is barely average. However, because of his poor health and lack of food, as a child, he is now stuck at 5’1.

- Fun fact: Illumi and Hisoka aren’t actually married; it was a mistranslation mixed with misinformation mixed with misinterpretation mixed with crazy delusional shippers. I’ll make a post about it, so comment if you want to be on the taglist.

@silverhypnos @monosanimegenericzone @opalwatch

[buck-star]

for the stucky bingo!! “showering together”

either smutty or angsty! if you go angsty I’m always a sucker for the whole “just got bucky back” civil war era trope.

maybe steve helps bucky shower for the first time since getting him back! he prob didn’t have running water in bucharest so is a lil grimey but def doesn’t really have any positive associations with showers or bathing so he’s on EDGE the entire time but steve just mama birds him.

or alternatively bucky mama birds steve! maybe he gets sick somehow and bucky is full blown 1940’s “stfu and let me take care of you mode” and drags him into the shower

sorry for the rambling bye

Shower and comfort

Steve helps Bucky not just with a shower but also to calm his anxiety during the shower.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 2.330 Words

Warnings/Tags: anxiety, Bucky with ptsd, crying, comfort, established relationship, petnames [baby], kisses, nudity (none sexual), fluff

Authors Note: Thank you for the request. It really sparked the muse to write, hope you like it. Divider made by me.

Events: WinterShield Bingo [I2 | Showering Together | @wintershieldbingo], Hurt Comfort Bingo [BO32 | Row Two-Three | Showering Together | @hurtcomfort-bingo], Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | N3 | Free Space | @stuckybingo], Seasonal Delights Bingo: Types of love [O5 | Silent Hugs | @seasonaldelightsbingo]

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

The warmth of the hot steam of the steady shower spray fills the room, mixed with the sound of the water dripping down onto the cool shower tiles to warm them up.

“Stevie, I don’t think… I don’t need a shower,” Bucky stutters, hugging himself tightly while he sits on the closed toilet where Steve placed him a few minutes ago. “I—I can just… I will just use a bit of soap and a sponge to wash me.”

Steve shakes his head; he hates to see Bucky so afraid and unsure. But as much as he loves his boyfriend, he can’t ignore that Bucky’s looking like he hasn’t had a shower in years — he probably hasn’t.

Bucky’s brown hair is stuck together, dirty, and causing pain already when Bucky tries to comb it. More often than not, Bucky scratches his dry skin until it’s a wound that has to be fixed by Steve, or else it would inflame itself.

“Buck, I know you don’t like it, but your hair is so dirty; we can’t fix it with just a bit of soap and a short wash,” Steve tries, but his boyfriend shakes his head, refusing to undress himself for the shower.

“But I don’t want to,” Bucky whines. As cute as it might sound, Steve notices the deep fear that’s in the tone of Bucky’s rough voice. His ocean blue eyes are pleading to let him get away with just a short cleaning. Steve would agree to it, and Bucky would agree to having a shower a week, but he hadn’t had one in months, maybe even years.

“When was the last time you really cleaned yourself? A full-body cleaning?” Steve asks, his voice remaining soft and understanding. He would never say that Bucky’s disgusting for having such a lack of self-cleaning, but he wants his boyfriend to feel better, and showers are supposed to feel better. Once you’re clean and pretty, you mostly feel not just fresh but also better.

“I don’t know… But I… I can clean my whole body without having to step inside there,” Bucky tries to argue. He only earns a soft shake of the other man’s head with a smile on the plump lips of his boyfriend. “Stevie, please. I will wash my body. But I don’t want to go into the shower.”

“How do you want to clean yourself then, baby?” Steve knows how Bucky would do it; he would undress and use some soap on either his hands or a sponge to rush it over his skin and use a bit of water to wash it away. The amount of water Bucky uses to clean himself fits in a small glass. And then he would dry himself with a towel before dressing himself again.

“Stevie…” Bucky mumbles, hugging himself even closer. The brunette shakes his head, whimpering quietly. “Please…”

“How about we undress you?” Steve suggests turning the shower off. Bucky immediately relaxes and nods. He lets his hands fall to his sides, and Steve uses the opportunity to help Bucky out of his sweat and dirt-covered Henley.

Bucky then gets off the toilet, looking down at Steve on his knees while he pushes down Bucky’s sweatpants and gets up to take a step backwards.

“Take off your boxers and I will get you a clean towel and a sponge,” Steve says, kissing Bucky’s forehead before he leaves the bathroom. Bucky does as he’s told, pushing down the thin fabric of his boxer briefs and stepping out of it. He then sits back down on the toilet, waiting for his boyfriend to come back into the bathroom.

Steve walks back into the bathroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder, new boxer briefs, a Henley, and sweatpants, as well as a sponge in his hands. He watches when Bucky pulls his legs against his chest and wraps his arms tightly around them. The usual broad and big man looks small and fragile when he sits there like that.

“Sit down in the shower for me; the tiles should be warm,” Steve says as he puts the clothes down on a counter. Bucky watches him with widened eyes, shaking his head. “Please, Buck. Sit down in the shower for me; I don’t want to drag you in there.”

“Stevie, you wouldn’t. Please, you don’t want to drag me in there,” Bucky whimpers, pulling his legs even closer against his broad chest. “I’m strong—“

Steve sighs, wrapping one arm around Bucky’s back, and the other slides underneath his legs, lifting his boyfriend up. Bucky whines, wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend's neck while he lets Steve carry him to sit on the floor in the shower.

“Stevie, you’re mean… I’m not gonna shower in here,” Bucky mumbles and tries to get out of the shower, but Steve blocks the way and gets on his knees to push Bucky back into a sitting position.

“Please, I know you’re scared, but please let me wash you. Let me undress; I will join you, and I will wash you. We can keep the door slightly open if it helps; the water isn’t gonna hurt you. And I’m not gonna hurt you, either,” Steve mumbles, running his fingers over Bucky’s cheekbones to his jaw to tilt his head slightly. “I will make you all the hot chocolate your heart desires, and we can watch all the movies you want with all the food you want to order, which can be fast food or whatever you want. But first we shower.”

Bucky’s eyes fill with tears, and he curls himself together as small as he can while Steve sighs and gets out of the shower to undress himself. Bucky muffled his quiet sobs with his arms, moving into the corner of the shower to press his back against the cool tiles of the shower.

When Steve turns back, his heart aches, and he quickly gets into the shower as well, crouching down and closing the door behind him. He reaches his hand out to pull Bucky closer and turns him in his arms so Bucky’s back is tightly pressed against Steve’s broad shoulder.

Steve runs his fingers softly up and down Bucky’s sides and over his thighs, trying to soothe him. “Buck, baby, take a deep breath for me, please.”

Bucky tries to take a deep breath, but another sob wracks through his body. The brunette is trembling; his fingers dig into his thighs while he leans against his boyfriend, his head against Steve’s shoulder.

He whimpers quietly. “Out of the shower, Stevie, please,” he whispers, more tears rolling down his cheeks. Steve keeps storming up and down Bucky’s soft skin, slowly taking both of his boyfriend's hands to keep him from digging his fingers into your thighs to cause bruises. “Stevie, please.”

“Take a deep breath, Buck. Deep breath, hold it, and slowly exhale,” Steve mumbles, his heart squeezing with Bucky’s pleading tone and begging. “You can test the water if it’s too hot or cold, and I will be as soft as I can.”

Bucky shakes his head. His fingers curl around Steve’s hands, grounding himself. “Please,” he begs, trembling and crying softly, but he does as Steve asked him and takes a few deep breaths and watches Steve take the showerhead. The blond-haired man turns on the water.

“So, hold your hand underneath, Buck,” he says softly. He wants to take off the shower and not shower with his boyfriend, but he knows he has to. When Bucky reaches his shaky hand out and lets the soft spray of the water fall on his hand, he flinches but nods. “Good, then I will start with your hair, and after that you can wash the rest while I clean your hair.”

“But… Stevie…” Bucky whispers, turning his head slightly to look at his boyfriend. His eyes are red and teary. “Be careful, please; I-it hurts when I comb through my hair.”

“Of course, I will not hurt you, Buck,” Steve explains before he brings the head of the shower to Bucky’s head. He uses one hand to lean the brunette's head back, letting the water dribble down on his messy hair. “You can relax; it’s just you and me in the shower, Buck.”

They both sit there in silence for a moment; Steve wets Bucky’s hair. His fingers combing as carefully as possible through them while Bucky sits there all tensed and still softly crying. When his hair is wet enough, Steve holds the shower head in front of Bucky to take it, and he does, letting the warm water flow down on his legs to keep him warm.

“If you don’t want to have the water on, let me know, and if anything is uncomfortable, you tell me,” Steve says, using some of the shampoo Bucky loves so much to put into his hands. He rubs them together for a bit before he brings them down on top of Bucky’s head and rubs the shampoo in the brown hair.

Bucky stays still; he keeps the showerhead over his legs and sometimes slips his head underneath to collect some water before he lifts his hand and lets it run down his chest.

Steve washes his boyfriend's hair softly, massaging Bucky’s scalp and neck while he rubs the shampoo in his brown locks. “Can you give me the shower head for a moment? Your hair is pretty stuck together; guess we need to wash it out and put a bit more shampoo in it.”

The brunette holds the shower head out for Steve to take. He’s still tense, his body still trembling, and Steve knows that Bucky’s on edge — ready to break down. But somehow he manages not to and remains still. Steve washes Bucky’s hair out, taking care that no shampoo lands in Bucky’s face or eyes.

“You’re doing so good, Buck. I’m proud of you, baby; you’re doing so good for me, letting me wash your hair,” Steve mumbles, using Bucky’s praise kink a bit to his advantage. Bucky’s lips twitch slightly for a short moment, his heart fluttering at the sound of Steve’s words.

“Thank you, Stevie,” he mumbles, taking the shower head again. Steve puts shampoo in Bucky’s hair again and repeats to rub it in the brown locks while he massages Bucky’s scalp and neck.

The longer they sit there, the more he massages Bucky, and the longer the water drops down on Bucky’s thighs and he plays a bit with the water, the more he relaxes.

“So, do you want to wash yourself or want me to wash you?” Steve asks after a while, his thick fingers still tangled into Bucky’s hair. He takes the showerhead once more and washes the shampoo out, Bucky’s hair way cleaner and not as messy anymore.

“You, p-please?” Bucky asks; he's still feeling unsure and on edge in the shower. But with Steve’s soft touch and his assuring words, it makes the shower easier and more comfortable.

“Of course, just relax,” Steve says with a soft smile and kisses the top of Bucky’s hair. He takes the sponge and some soap, then he washes Bucky’s body. Beginning on his shoulders with a slight massage included to his arms and down his muscular chest and abs. Then he moves to Bucky’s back, massaging the tensed muscles while he rubs the dry skin off and cleans Bucky. “Mhm, doing so good, baby. Showers can be really relaxing for tense muscles, and you will feel all fresh, and your skin will be soft like the one of a baby.”

“Stevie…” Bucky whines, playfully this time. The brunette's lips twitch slightly, and he leans further back against his boyfriend's firm chest. “Don’t say that; that’s embarrassing.”

“But it makes you laugh,” Steve argues. He snakes his hands to Bucky’s legs and finishes cleaning his boyfriend, who’s starting to play with the showerhead. Bucky smirks when he washes away the soap the moment Steve inches a moment away. Then he turns the showerhead and holds it at Steve’s shoulder and face, causing the blond-haired man to groan when the water hits his face. “Bucky!”

“Stevie!” Bucky smirks, turning the shower head back. Steve laughs softly and takes the showerhead to wash the soap away, then he turns it off and clicks it back in its place.

The blond-haired man gets up, opening the door of the shower and stepping out. He keeps an eye on his boyfriend, who’s slowly getting up as well. Bucky’s still smiling, his whole body less tense, and he walks out as well.

Steve holds a towel in his arms, grinning as he walks closer and wraps Bucky in the towel before he grabs himself a towel and wraps it around his own body.

“I’m proud of you, Bucky. I know it’s not easy for you to shower with all that stuff that reminds you of your past. But I’m proud of you for taking the shower,” Steve says, placing his hands on Bucky’s waist to pull him closer. Bucky smiles softly, his cheeks heating up, and he leans closer to press his lips softly against Steve’s.

“You’re my rock, Stevie. And you owe me fast food, hot chocolate, movies, and cuddles,” Bucky whispers against the plump lips of his boyfriend. Steve nods, knowing that’s Bucky’s way to say thank you and I love you when it comes to stuff that includes his past trauma. “Burgers… and more burgers, and those cute dino nuggets — these are great, and you love them just as much as I do.”

“I do, but I still love you the most,” Steve smirks, causing Bucky to blush further. He brings his lips to Bucky’s once more, chuckling into the kiss. Steve’s hands remain on Bucky’s waist while Bucky wraps his around Steve’s neck — the metal arm making Steve shiver slightly when the cold hits his skin, while Bucky’s other hand is so warm and soft — and pulls him even closer, growling playfully.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @blackhawkfanatic @casa-boiardi @kandis-mom @armystay89 @blackhawkfanatic @queen-honeybee-stories @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @bamitzzsam [tag yourself]

[stickyspeckledlight]

“Indeed, dear mister Stoneheart! My wonderworking will take effect in a few days, and your good luck streak will end! That’ll be 100 000 credits :)”

For da gambler man

Snake oil? Only if you don’t look at it the right way.

(Speckled's End of Year Interaction Prompts, 12/2/24 ~ 1/1/25)

The Stoneheart’s smirk grows, a quirk just at the corner of his lips. It teeters on a careful precipice of amusement and threat, of control and chance. It’s nothing new to you, though. Smug confidence isn’t new to you, but it’s the first time you’ve seen it on someone dressed in such finery.

“That’s a first,” he purrs, resting his cheek in his palm. “In all my time, I’ve never had anyone offer me bad luck. Curses, yes—but not a…blessing.” He comfortably leers at you through his sunglasses, lazily tracing the rim of a cloudy, cracked glass filled with something closer to piss than whiskey.

“The only difference between a curse and a blessing is intent,” you wink, “And with what you told me, Mr. Stoneheart, that luck of yours IS a curse! I mean, what kind of luck is winning a lifetime supply of toothpicks? That luckiness of yours is no good!”

His grin widens, “Indeed. Why, before I say anything else, I must commend you for your generosity!” He lightly claps, putting on all the theatrics you’ve come to expect, “100,000 credits in exchange for curing me? Why, I can’t fathom a deal better than this…”

“Right you are, Mr. Stoneheart!” You snap of your fingers, calloused and rough, almost alien in how bony it is these days. “But careful: my power is a…finicky thing, so we can only do this NOW!”

“Oh?” Suddenly his smile grows sharper, “That’s new.”

“I can’t reveal all my tricks,” you smoothly reply. You catch yourself tapping your foot hurriedly against the pavement and stop. You shouldn’t think about what you can do with that money; you can simply do with the money, after this rich sucker forks over his cash. Luck, as a curse? Who is he kidding? Why would he throw that away, when you and everyone else you know would kill for it?

“Shame.” He says with completely insincerity. He stands and pushes his chair back, “I was hoping you’d find a creative way to explain your con. I was looking forward to what you’d come up with so much, y’know?”

You lock up and stiffen. This rich playboy was acting stupid before! Why’s he suddenly calling you out?! “H-huh? A con? Mr. Stoneheart, you must be—”

“Don’t.” He smiles, “You know, I did introduce myself as ‘Aventurine, of the Ten Stonehearts: a cog in the machine of the Strategic Investment Department.’ Do you actually know who I am?”

“An IPC executive,” you hastily reply; you can’t get on his bad side, you CAN’T.

But he only continues to look at you, looking above you with a foxlike expression.

“That’s correct, but dig a bit deeper,” he peppily nudges. “You’re a smart one; I’m sure you can do it!”

“Uh…” you frown, “You…you make investments?”

“That’s something everyone does.” He shakes his head, “So: no. How about I give you my formal title? I’m a Non-performing Asset Liquidation Specialist.”

…You do not understand whatever that corporate mumbo jumbo means.

Well, phooey. You’re fucked, man. Your con is bust. If anything, this guy had all the cards before you even saw his face.

“Oh, Mr. Stoneheart…” you smile again, standing to meet his eyes, “You it said yourself: we’re friends,” his grin does not fall, but his eyes crinkle with cheshire glee, “So, let’s not bei business into this. And that applies to me too! I should’ve known better; this blessing’s on the house, friend.”

He does not say anything, letting your words hang in the air, and stress gather in your chest before he finally speaks.

“Slow recovery, but it’s not half bad. Especially for someone who hasn’t been in business long. You’ve got some potential,” he whistles. You must’ve had a ridiculous expression on your face, because he just laughs. Mirth dances in his eyes, tinted pink by his sunglasses. “Oh, my bad; I’ll play along just for you, my jewel.”

You’re not given any time to react to the sudden new nickname. “Yes, I can’t believe how astute you truly are, my friend,” he sighs wistfully, clutching his heart and smiling like you two are really, really, really good friends. The whiplash hits you with a crack, and now, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen him without a mask. “Still, I would feel bad about just getting a blessing from you for free, so…how do you feel about becoming my employee?”

An employee? What? You were trying to CON him, and now he wants to hire you?!

“W-what?”

“That’s right,” he bows, “I meant what I said, my friend. You’re a diamond in the rough, and it’s my job to polish you up—we at the Strategic Investment Department prioritize long term over short term, you know.”

“But I—” tried to con you, you almost stammer before catching yourself, “—have, uh…”

Well, you never liked him even when he was playing the part of a rich fool, but seeing how that in of itself might’ve just been a mask…you don’t want to be near this guy, period. And now that you think about it, you’ve never seen his eyes.

He makes a zipping motion with his fingers and across his mouth, “My friend,” he kindly winks, “Don’t bother objecting! Tell me: what are two things you now know about my job?”

…All of the whiplash and sudden questions seemingly unrelated to anything said…you think you’re going to get a headache, once your mind is clear from panic and stress.

“Um…you’re a liquidation specialist and…go for long term investments.”

“Perfect; 10/10!” He claps, “Now let’s dig even deeper—dig into you, [Name].”

Time stops.

“[Name]?” You scoff, mouth twitching, “Mr. Stoneheart…are you projecting onto me?”

“Don’t lie, my jewel,” the nickname makes you bristle, and he sighs, “Now’s the time to drop the platitudes and acts. There’s always a time for veiled conversations, but ah, I think there’s no need for that, now.”

For some reason, even though your cowardice has already been shown, now’s the time you decide to keep up the cheery salesman act. In the back of your mind, you shake your head. How could you immediately prove what he just said?

But that’s just the back of your mind.

“Oh, Mr. Stoneheart! Why would I ever lie to you? We’re friends.”

“Indecisive, are you?” He hums, “That’s alright. That’s perfectly fine. Indecisiveness doesn’t erase debt either way.”

“D-debt? Oh, but Mr. Stoneheart—!”

“You can’t erase what your stupid father did.” He plainly states, taking a coin out and playing with it, “Mx. [Name], my condolences for what happened to you; falling into poverty like this wasn’t your fault, but…fault also doesn’t erase debt.”

This time, you’re shaking. You can’t do anything but watch. He was just supposed to be a rich, stupid fool to wring money out of—who—how—how did things go this way—

“Here’s what I was thinking. Work for me, and you’ll be able to pay off your debt without worry. You’ll be provided a reduced salary, of course, but you’ll have enough to…” his mouth quirks, “…get by.”

He saunters around the table, and leans against it lazily. He leans closer, “You understand that there’s no other choice, right?” At your continued, fearful silence, he chuckles, “Don’t worry, Mx. [Name]. I’m the one hiring you; you know I’ll treat you well! Like you said, we’re friends. Good friends, even.”

You hear the sound of a coin flick; you move your head to see it fall onto the table, covered by the Stoneheart’s hand.

A leather clad finger hooks under your chin and drags your gaze to his, “But I’ve got another idea,” he offers, “Gemstones are made to be cut, sold, and coveted. You’re no different…but you’re still rough. You’ve barely been lodged out of the cave walls. So, I have a proposal…just for a beauty like you,” he winks playfully, but it does nothing to alleviate the sheer intimidation and power he’s exerted on you.

The hand on the table slides off, hovering by your wrist.

“Follow through on that bad luck of yours,” he gently leers. Something cold and sleek and heavy slips to your grip, “If you do…100,000 credits? No; that’s wouldn’t be enough to convey my generosity. I’m going all-in. A carefree life would be yours in an instant. But if you don’t…”

The revolver’s holster clicks against his chest.

“I’ll be free to shape you however I like; and covet you with these lucky hands.”

[animeyanderelover]

May I request NSFW his for ryuken(bleach)

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, controlling behavior, afab reader, Nsfw, brontophilia

Nsfw Hc's

◻️Ryuken is one who takes things slow and meticulous. Everything has a plan, everything has a purpose. From the biggest displays to the smallest gestures. His rather controlling nature is at one point within a relationship of no secret to you, his strict attitude surprising and shocking as you are an adult capable of making your own decisions. He hasn’t entertained the thought of having sex with another woman since his wife passed away and truthfully speaking, he has been getting by fine. He’s a busy man after all and has been able to keep himself occupied with his work over the many years. If there have been incidents where he had a persistent boner which didn’t go away he just quietly took care of it and went on with his work. As the owner of a hospital and armed with quite a bit of knowledge about the human body, Ryuken understands after all that sexual urges are a normal biological response. It’s nothing he should feel ashamed of when he is unable to ignore his erection and it’s nothing he is going to shame you for either when he happens to realise that you’re masturbating. Instead he chooses to be kind enough to never mention it to you to safe you the burning shame.

◻️There’s no need to rush sex within a relationship with him. Ryuken is incredibly patient and whilst certainly forceful in some aspects, this is something he knows better than to urge you into. It would be very much something below his honor and duty to put you into a situation where you’re forced to get intimate with him. However, the longer the two of you live together the more he finds himself being more sexually affected than before. Not by a ton but just enough for him to notice and to get somewhat bothered by it but he keeps quiet about that. After all that is not your fault and just his body reacting due to his feelings and attraction to you. Usually more direct and honest when he feels the need to talk with you about something more important, Ryuken practices the art of sublety whenever he wants to figure out how you are feeling with the topic of getting intimate with him. He neither wishes to make you feel pressured nor does he want to risk coming over as someone starving to have sex. So this is a decision that he makes entirely dependent on you, meaning that the first time with him and every time after that with him is fully consensual.

◻️That man has experience when it comes to pleasing a woman and he is the type of person who never forgets once he has learned something. Ryuken just oozes confidence and patience to the point where you actually feel somewhat nervous, especially during the first time. Your first time with Ryuken is generally something you are never going to forget about as he spent a painful amount of time making himself familiar with your body and its reactions. Your body is unique after all and as your partner and lover Ryuken believes it to be very important that he knows all of it. Perhaps you just aren't prepared for the way he experiments with his fingers to see how quickly you are pushed over the edge or how fast it takes for you to come undone when he uses his tongue on you. By the time he actually finally pushes his manhood inside of you, you have already gone through a few orgasms and Ryuken actually asks you if you are still alright with continuing. That habit to explore and to experiment continues for a while until Ryuken has figured out how your body reacts best and through what means you receive the most pleasure. He's very capable of satisfying you.

◻️There is one thing that you notice over time but that takes you quite a lot of time to understand is the fact that Ryuken seems to have a certain preference for making love to you when it's stormy outside. In his mind though it creates a rather cozy atmosphere when both of you are at home where it's warm and comfortable whilst the rain is drumming against the windows. As you notice that pattern you actually start noticing other things as well. He always gauges your behavior when the sky is hidden behind dark clouds, most likely trying to figure out how you would be feeling if he were to initiate something in that moment. Over time it actually becomes somewhat of a tradition for the both of you whenever a thunderstorm looms over the city, skin pressed against skin whilst the cold wind rushes through the street and the occasional lightning illuminates the darkened bedroom. Ryuken is a busy man, he doesn't have an abundance of time that he can spend with you. So whenever he is allowed to indulge in you, he usually strives to make the most of it for the both of you. He would after all never be able to forget it if he were to do a sloppy job.

◻️Work tends to be stressful, his son tends to be stressful, life sometimes just tends to be stressful. It's rare for Ryuken to show that within his body language though as he prefers to solve his own problems by himself. Honestly, he doesn't hold the idea of using sex as a way to unload everything very highly. It's a mere distraction and not a solution after all. If at all, it just wastes precious time. So the first time you actually offer to give him a blowjob when sensing that he seems to be stressed, he is somewhat sceptical. Up until that point you have never given him a blowjob and his mind partially switches to the one of a doctor as he considers that this might trigger a gag reflex or hurt your throat, especially since his cock is on the longer side. Still, if you insist then he will eventually give in and let you do as you wish to do so. He does keep an initial watchful eye out on you in case you do end up feeling the need to gag until he deems it safe enough to actually focus more on the sensations than your well-being. He appreciates the gesture deep down but he still holds himself to his principles and focuses first on a problem before he allows himself any indulgence on which he can then fully focus on.

◻️Ryuken isn't much of a vocal type and he doesn't expect from you to be either. People react differently to sexual pleasure and as long as he knows that you are having a good time he doesn't really mind if you are the loud or the quiet type. Since he makes sure that Uryu isn't at home during sexual intercourse you can be as loud with your moans as you need to be. Hygiene is very important. That man owns a hospital and for that he is very much finicky about kepping everything sanitary. Sexual activities are strictly reserved for the bedroom and nowhere else. He doesn't want to make a mess on any surface that isn't a mattress and the only place you could talk him into is the bathtub. A ten out of ten for the aftercare that he provides though because that man knows what he is doing. Both of you spend a few minutes recovering before he is the one to get up and offer you something to drink since you just lost a lot of bodily fluid before he encourages you to get up and clean yourself. Those bedsheets are changed quickly by him whilst you either take a shower or a bath before he joins you so that the two of you can then return to a fresh bed.

[lyricalt]

Kind

Haha, I hope you don't mind I sort of had this in my backpocket and it was going to stay unfinished forever but your prompt pinged some words I was finally able to connect. So thanks!

sniperspy - rated explicit (very nsfw lol)

(open prompt post HERE)

+++

Sniper thanks his lucky stars Spy doesn’t expect dirty talk from him. He’s more than happy to let Spy do all the flirtatious innuendo and filthy comments. He’s willing to listen to it all. In fact, if Sniper makes a conscious effort to make the attempt himself, it usually doesn’t work. Spy is typically immune to whatever Sniper has to say (dirty or not), likely because he’s already heard everything in all his years of honeypot missions and the like. With the filthy shit Spy murmurs in his ear sometimes, Sniper is sure as hell he hasn’t even heard a quarter of it. 

Either way, Sniper’s not much of a talker in bed, much like he isn’t much of one when not in bed, but especially when he’s about to get railed six ways to Sunday. He makes noise, sure, but nothing too coherent. Curses, mostly. Obvious demands. He ain’t dead silent. Spy seems to like it.  

So Sniper’s just carrying on babbling nonsense while getting plowed silly on his back, too far gone to care what comes out of his mouth. He vaguely remembers gasping please, please (normal, polite) and don’t stop (honest demand, if not obvious in hindsight), want you (intimate, perhaps, but not scandalous), and then, of course, Spy’s name a couple of times.

Nothing out of the ordinary, except when Sniper is in the middle of gasping something unusually wordy, Spy suddenly tenses, lets out a short startled noise, and comes inside Sniper with such abruptness, it surprises them both. 

Spy slips himself out, still breathing harshly against Sniper’s neck. There’s a slight shake to his arms as he tries to sit up with Sniper’s legs still wrapped around his waist. Sniper is more bummed about the loss in his bum, but it only takes Spy another moment to recover—he looks mortified, red from the neck and chest, and then that’s all the observation Sniper can gather before Spy quickly bends down and sucks him off until Sniper’s mind does the equivalent of dropping a loose cartridge of SMG bullets all over the floor.

No more words, this time Sniper just moans through his orgasm, almost overwhelmed by how fast it hits like a train. His cock has never been so thoroughly swallowed down and cleaned up with speed. He’s still shuddering when Spy lets off, and he shudders again when he sees that Spy has to swallow twice.

There’s an art to complimenting Spy. Say too much and he’s going to get a big head about it. Say too little and he’ll fish for an opinion. Say nothing and it’s even worse—he’ll not do it again and brush it off as something Sniper doesn’t want.

So, Sniper flops his legs back down from Spy’s waist and lets out a very precise, very articulate, “Ngh.”

Spy doesn't say anything for the moment. He stumbles from the bed, off to fetch the washrag while Sniper tries to figure out what the hell happened. 

“That was fast,” Sniper says, since he knows it’s best to just pull the trigger on these things; Spy has a habit of getting all caught up in his head otherwise. “Got somewhere to be?”

It isn’t until Spy drops a damp cloth on his chest that Sniper sits up, letting it fall into his lap. He doesn’t pick it up. Instead, he sets his sights on Spy.

“...You’re quite the chattermouth in bed,” Spy says, offhand, but he won’t look at Sniper. There’s a flush still lingering across his chest and shoulders. 

Sniper frowns. He’s sure he hasn’t said anything weird or off putting. Certainly nothing dirty since he’s no good at it, and nothing too saccharine or sweet that would embarrass them, but then again, Spy wouldn’t have blown his bloody load so fast if it’d been a turn off.

Sniper presses the washrag to his face, muttering, and tries to recall what he’d said. If anything, he’d like to use it again for leverage, but he’s thinking on it now and it’s nothing, absolutely nothing special. Just stuff about wanting, and wanting so badly in that desperate kind of sex-talk way. Honest, in-the-moment babble that Sniper can’t fake. Spy should be used to it, considering his past history.

Sniper lowers his hands slightly, peering over the top of the terrycloth at Spy.

“Ah-ha,” Sniper says. “‘I’m yours’, is that it?”

He might as well have shot Spy through the head with how accurate he hits the mark. Spy’s body language is perfectly composed, but what little Sniper can see of his face goes up in flames, near bright enough to show through the mask, really.

“A little more than that,” Spy says stiffly.

Sniper lets out a bark of laughter, not surprised in the least. Because, deep down under that cynical and wry exterior, he knows Spy’s a romantic at heart. What, being so invested in Scout’s troubles with Miss Pauling, knowing how to wine and dine, and the finer ins and outs of courting, Spy seems to have a keen eye for reading people’s hearts—motives, really—so Sniper supposes it’s not out of pocket for Spy to be partial to it himself. Sniper likens it to any other type of specialized mercenary skill. 

And also, when it comes down to it, Spy has a streak of kindness a klick wide. He’s just good at hiding it in most cases. Sniper guesses he should be flattered he isn’t most cases.

Spy is starting to dress himself. It might not be a good idea to mention that it’s his own room he’s trying to escape from. Sniper lays himself back into Spy’s plush bed. 

“No worries, Spy,” he says, shrugging. “You’re a sap. I know you like that kinda stuff. The sweet talkin’.”

Spy slowly looks at him. He sounds mildly affronted by the accusation. “Not usually.”

“Fine, just with me then.”

And now Spy looks less of a romantic and more like the proper murderer that he is. Sniper is surprised a knife isn’t buried into his throat yet.

Just in case, he holds one hand up and uses the other to wipe his bottom before Spy starts trying to switch the topic to clean sheets. “I ain't making fun. I think it’s sweet as, mate. You get your rocks off however you want.”

Spy sighs, embarrassed and exasperated, but he’s slowed down in trying to dress himself. “You make it sound like a fetish. It certainly isn’t.”

“Nah. I get that. You like me.” Sniper rolls on his side, propping himself up with one elbow and his cheek in the palm of his hand. “You like me heaps.”

“Careful. That might change.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Change into liking me more,” Sniper says breezily. 

Spy buttons up his shirt, lightly stepping over Sniper’s clothes on the floor so that he can loom over him. He puts fingers around Sniper’s throat and at the first touch, Sniper finds himself easing back at the slightest pressure.

“You would not be able to handle me liking you more,” Spy says, deadpan. Only he could make something like that sound like a genuine threat. No kindness there at all.

And, since things tend to loop back in a circle with them, Sniper guesses it’s only fair when it’s his turn to feel a hot blush cross his face under Spy’s weighted stare.

When Spy’s fingers let up, Sniper drops back, covering his own face, and lets Spy finish dressing.

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! please can i request doctor!remus with reader who has just started anti-depressants and is having mood swings/anxiety about it? totally okay if not!

thank u :)) (your dr remus is the loml <3)

Thank you angel (he's the loml too) <3

cw: insomnia, anxiety, mention of past depressive episodes, reader is trying out anti-depressants for the first time so there's some mixed feelings about that

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 855 words

You can feel your heart pounding in your teeth. It reverberates all through your mouth, down to your cheek where it’s pressed against your pillow. You feel hot and restless. 

Your brain is a maze and you can’t get out. 

You thought Remus had fallen asleep, but he hasn’t, his arm slipping under sheets and over your waist to pull you closer. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, more doting than concern in his tone; he already knows. 

Tears prick your eyes, but you hold them in. “I don’t like this.” 

“You’re alright, dove. Take a deep breath.” 

You do. Count all the way in, go as far as you can, and still. It doesn’t feel like it should.

“I can’t do it all the way,” you say, voice fracturing. 

“Shh, you can.” Remus’ voice is a murmur, his sureness a balm to your sensitive nerves. He brings his hand to your breastbone, pressing down until you’re certain the force of your heartbeat must be shaking him. “We’ll do it together, yeah? Feel.” 

With his chest pressed to you from behind, you feel the way his lungs inflate with the great breath he takes. You do the same, and his thumb rubs over your bare skin encouragingly. 

“There we are. Just like that, sweetheart.” 

You do a few more before Remus must deem your heartbeat normal enough to stop. You feel more normal, though your skin is still too tight and your mind seems like it was never yours. 

“Well done.” Remus kisses your shoulder. “What brought that on, hm? Can’t sleep?” 

You appreciate that he keeps asking, even though the answer has been the same for the past several nights. Yes, you can’t sleep. You can’t sleep, and instead your brain runs and runs. It takes you places you don’t recognize, and then you get scared that the meds you’ve been taking are turning you into someone else entirely, and you begin to wonder what your mental wellbeing is really worth to you, and by the time you tune back into your own body your breaths are loud and you’re damp with sweat underneath the covers. 

“I don’t know if I want to do this anymore,” you mumble. It’s easier to voice when you’re not looking at him. The darkness in front of you is shapeless and unjudging. 

Remus is quiet. His thumb strokes underneath your breast, a silent request for you to say more. 

“I’m tired” —your voice catches again, but you get it under control— “of feeling like this. I just want it to be over. I don’t care if I have to go back to—to the way things were for that to happen. I’m so tired of this.” 

Remus’ lips come down on your shoulder again, gently. His breath tickles your skin. “I know you are, lovely. I’m sorry.” 

“I think I should stop with the meds. Right?” 

You don’t mean to seek his approval until you do. That’s a doomed venture; Remus has told you why he thinks you’re doing the right thing every day and night since you’ve felt like this, usually more than once between sunrises. 

“If you want to stop, you can,” he says carefully. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you; I know the side effects forwards and backwards, but really, I can’t imagine how it feels. I do know that it’s putting you through a lot, sweetheart. But I still think it’s worth seeing how you feel when your hormones balance out.” 

You nearly cry with frustration. Remus feels the harsh exhale leave your chest and moves closer, turning you over so your face is in his chest. 

“Shh, it’s alright. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, my love.” 

But you’re upset with yourself, because you want it too. You want to know what it’s like on the other side of all this, where you might get through an entire year without melancholy sinking its claws into you. You want to discover what that version of yourself might be like. 

“It’s already been a week,” you plead. 

Remus’ voice is soft and lulling. Assured. “It’s normal to have anxiety like this in the second week. Insomnia, too. I know it’s awful, but it’s not because anything is going wrong. It’s expected.” 

“It sucks.” 

“Yeah. It does.” 

After a while, you start mimicking his breaths again. You think Remus knows, because his chest starts rising and falling more dramatically, each pull deep and long. You can hear his heart beating steadily under your ear. 

Remus’ hand rests on your mid-back, his fingertips just between your shoulder blades. Not rubbing, not patting. Just holding you there. Against him, where you need to be. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, but you’re proven wrong again when he asks softly, “Are you feeling better?” 

You let out a sigh. “Yeah.” 

It’s reluctant, but honest. You don’t know how you’ll find your way to sleep, or when you’ll get there, but the possibility of wakefulness feels a lot less stifling when you remember Remus is here with you. You hold onto him and close your eyes.

[winter-hoof]

We had to stop by my boyfriend’s parents house today to drop something off & it’s just so sad to see his mom’s garden so overgrown and messy ☹️

[lazychimken]

Here’s some more art I had for my TFO + TFA inspired au, I should really start posting these separately instead of these doodle dumps 💀 some context:

This is after the events of TFO but before the events of TFA/Bots on Earth

- B-127 has been training for years at the Autobot boot camp to become a soldier and is currently doing deliveries for the Autobots alongside Cliffjumper, Mirage, etc

- He still aspires to be part of the Elite Guard, and a chance meeting with Elita-One during a shipment of energon rations had him ecstatic to see her again (he hasn’t seen her since Megatron was banished from Iacon and OP left him in the care of others)

- Elita-One, while secretly happy to see B-127 again, fears that she’ll lose him if he becomes part of the Elite Guard, so she immediately denies B a promotion and tries to have him keep doing deliveries (not very successful so far)

- B-127, while initially shocked by the rejection, doesn’t really take it to heart and so every time he runs into Elita he immediately bombards her with demands over joining the Elite Guard; he has yet to see OP

Here’s a relationship chart of the four disasters that are the protagonists of this story:

B is a little scared about how this will all end, please someone send these bots to a couples therapy 🙏

Also here’s a doodle of Starscream and B:

- Over the course of the war and the Deceptions commit a few war crimes, B eventually looses the hero admiration he had on the High Guard

- Doing deliveries, while not as dangerous as outright fighting, is still a perilous job with resources becoming more scarce

[rafekisser]

Had this idea about Rafe’s best friend! Reader who hasn’t been with anyone in like a year and is getting really worked up. Maybe she had a terrible week and there was a last straw and she’s yelling and yanking on her hair and throwing things and Rafe is kind of realizing she just needs to be totally dominated and taken care of so he does

rafe x bsf!reader

a/n: i totally love that idea anon !! first time writing ever i just didnt want to let sweet nonnie down, so apologies if its not that good !

cw: smut, swearing, drool.

rafe knew you haven’t had a hookup in ages. you would vaguely mention it, when it would be just the two of you in either one’s rooms. if he was being honest, he pitied you. he even wanted to be the one to help you…

you were pissed off the whole week. maybe it was your hormones, with the way you would get annoyed at everything.

whether it be traffic making you late to events, or people at the country club being rude, steam was coming out of your ears.

you were like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode anytime now. good thing your bestfriend kept you grounded whenever you were feeling overstimulated.

so there you were, in your room getting ready for dinner with your family and the camerons. rafe on your bed scrolling on his phone, patiently waiting for you.

you were quiet while doing your makeup on your vanity table, not your usual chatty self. normally you would go on and on about anything and everything under the sun, yapping for hours on end.

rafe knew something was up.

“something wrong bunny?” he asked, using the nickname he gave you referring to the time you dressed up as a bunny for halloween when you two were little.

“no,” you replied with a pout, voice barely above a whisper.

rafe knew better than to push you, so he just sighed and kept quiet.

a few moments have passed, and rafe hears a soft ‘oh fuck’, a thud, and heavy breathing from your vanity. he looks up from his phone and sees your head down, soft sobs coming from the table.

when he got up to come closer, you shot up. screaming, crying, wailing even. rafe could see your problem now: you smudged your mascara. you started yanking out your hair curlers, figuring they were useless if your makeup was ruined anyway.

“woah woah- hey bun!” he yelled, pulling you by your waist. he placed you on your bed, rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you.

rafe guided you gently so you were laying your head on your pillows. he was in between your legs, arms caging your frame.

“shh calm down baby,” he whispered, wiping your mascara stained eyes with his thumbs.

he petted your hair, large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks.

“i’m here, i’m here.” he cooed as your cries hushed, turning into soft hiccups.

in this position he could feel you wet through your bloomers. he looked at your eyes as if to ask for permission silently, before he cupped your mound through the frilly fabric.

“what d’you need bunny?”

“need you rafey,” you whined. he carefully pulled down your bloomers, a string of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric.

rafe grew hard at the sight, taking his thumb to run across your slit. his other thumb trailing to play with your nipples through your top.

you mewl at the simultaneous sensations, given you haven’t experienced them in a long while. he took that as a sign to circle your clit, causing your eyes to shut and your legs to close, only to be blocked by rafe’s broad figure.

he then plunged two fingers in and out of you, thick digits stretching your tight hole. rafe’s hand that was previously playing with your tits find their way to your mouth, muffling your lewd moans.

“let’s be quiet bunny. your parents might be downstairs” he shushed, deep voice making your pussy clamp down on his fingers.

fingers curling up to hit your sweet spot, rafe could feel you getting close.

“you can cum baby, go ‘head,” he signals, feeling you gush all over his hand. eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt euphoria rush through you.

as you rode out your high, rafe removes his hand from your mouth, drool dripping from your mouth and his hand.

“sorry,” you squeaked. he didn’t mind anyway, just happy you probably had your first orgasm not from your own fingers in months.

it never occured to you that this was an option, to be touched by your own bestfriend. this wouldn’t be the last time it happens, you could tell.

“thank you rafey.” you smiled weakly at him, looking through your lashes. he didn’t say anything, just kissed your forehead.

“are we late to dinner?” you asked, suddenly remembering why you were getting ready.

“i drive fast, we’ll make it,” he smirks, grabbing your small hand to cup the bulge through his pants.

dinner could wait.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !! love, scarlet.

[casuallytalkingtothevoid]

Thinking a very normal amount about Tim being joker junior.

Thinking about Jason dying and Tim becoming robin out of necessity.

Thinking about Bruce not noticing Tim has been kidnapped because surely, surely his parents would file a report. Surely Tim must have been dragged into going on a trip with them and just didn’t mention it.

Thinking of Bruce not questioning things correctly because he is too busy grieving the previous robin.

Thinking of Bruce just thinking Joker Junior is a random kid.

Thinking of Barbra being the one to notice instead.

Thinking of Barbra consoling Tim after he kills the Joker.

Thinking of her taking Tim and letting him heal in the Drake estate.

Thinking of a file Bruce Wayne makes called Joker junior, one that Tim never looks at, that talks about a kid who killed the Joker and has been missing ever since.

Thinking of, months later, when robin returns to Bruce’s side, it just so happens to coincide with the return of Jack and Janet.

Thinking of Tim thinking Barbra must have told Bruce, but he just never came to see him. And that’s fine, because it isn’t as if they are family, Tim is just here to make sure Bats doesn’t go off the deep end again.

Thinking of Barbra not telling Bruce, because surely he already knows, he’s the world’s greatest detective. Plus she isn’t one to talk about other people’s trauma when they aren’t around.

Thinking of Tim hiding his laughter, because Batman would never let him keep patrolling if he knew he was still having fits.

Thinking of Dick not being there most of the time, and when he is, he mostly spends it arguing with Bruce.

Thinking of Tim knowing that Dick must know because he hears them fighting about the joker being dead once, although he did leave pretty soon after when he feels the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

Thinking of Jason coming back, attacking him at the titains tower, and telling him that he’s read all his files and knows everything about Tim. Obviously Tim takes this to mean he knows that Tim killed the joker as JJ. Because why wouldn’t that be in his file.

Thinking of Jason not having time to question when the little Robin who replaced him starts manically laughing once he sees him, because as soon as he hears the familiar laugh the green takes over completely.

Thinking of Tim finally feeling in control of himself, but then worst year ever happens. His parents are dead, Bruce is lost in the time stream, all his friends are dead, Robin is stolen from him, and everyone thinks he is crazy. He starts to relapse.

Thinking of Tim actually going a little bit crazy after that, trying to clone Bart and Kon, joining the league of assassins, doing all those crazy things he did during worst year ever.

Thinking of Cass learning after saving Tim from the daughter of Acheron. There isn’t much he can do but explain after she witnesses one of his fits.

Thinking about years later, when everyone has relationships more akin to Batman: Wayne family adventures, Tim still feels a little out of the group.

Thinking of everyone getting mad when he talks about the Joker, especially if it’s in front of Jason.

Thinking of Tim going silent or making himself scarce everytime the Joker is mentioned.

Thinking of a Tim who finds an excuse not to go out when Harley Quinn is.

Thinking of a Tim who hasn’t had an episode in years.

Thinking of a Tim who watches Jason get all this support for his trauma, while he doesn’t.

Thinking of him going to Barbra or Cass anytime he has a set back because they are the only ones who seem to care.

Thinking of a Wayne family who doesn’t know.

Thinking of a Tim who Knows they Know, but they just don’t care.

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

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[deadsetobsessions]

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

[moody-alcoholic]

Part 2 as promised.

Part 1

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, assault, mentions of SA, torture, suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort.

_____________________

Ghost flicks the ash off his cigarette. 

“Do we know who we’re looking for?" Gaz asks. It's a pointless question. They know who they’re looking for. You’ve been mentioning a guy at work who has been getting a little too handsy. 

You were going to confront him in the new year with your boss. You didn’t want to ruin anyone's Christmas, now yours is ruined. 

People are starting to leave the office building now, it’s just past midnight. They watch in silence concealed in the darkness down an alleyway a few buildings from your workplace. Maybe this was the alley you were found down. It’s dark and cold, the businesses are all closed, it would have been easy to coerce you down, it makes his stomach drop. Someone hurt you, he hurt you. 

“Should have taken care of this sooner.” Gaz says. Ghost just hums watching as the lights in the buildings go off. The last few people are filtering out the building. Ghost straightens up flicking his cigarette but to the floor. 

“That’s him.” Ghost says, blowing out the smoke before reaching up to pull the familiar balaclava down over his face. 

_____________________

When the police arrive you feel somewhat sober. Your body is sore, your head throbbing. Seeing them walk in with all their gear makes you nervous. All of a sudden you feel like you’ve done something wrong. 

Johnny never leaves your side, he holds your hand stroking it with his thumb while the female officer asks you questions you don’t know how to answer. You still can’t remember what happened. You can piece it together though, you can tell by the hushed voices and the somber looks from people. 

The worst is the pain, the ache in your body every time you move, the bruises hurt the most.  Sometimes Johnny runs his fingers over them, his eyes going dark and he lets out a sigh. John stands at the end of the bed still, his gaze never leaves you unless someone enters the room. You just want to go home. 

The most embarrassing part is when they have to take pictures of your injuries. Your swollen eye is now turning black and blue. There’s bruises around your neck, talking hurts, swallowing’s worse. The nurse gives you more painkillers but it just makes you feel sick. 

John talks with the officers and the nurse after they’re done. Johnny tries to keep your attention on him. You feel embarrassed, the nurse said they did a rape kit, you don’t even remember that, the police need to take it for evidence. That makes silent tears come, you can’t stop them. 

“C’mon, none of that love.” Johnny says reaching up to brush them away. 

“I want to go home,” you sob. 

“We’ll be home soon, promise,” he smiles. You want a shower, you want to scrub your body clean. You feel dirty, your stomach is turning as your mind wanders to the unthinkable. You hope you never remember what happened, you fear you won’t be so lucky.

_____________________

Ghost’s fist meets his cheek, his nose is broken, his jaw will be next. Not now though, now they need him to talk. 

“Price says he’s on his way.” Gaz says as he walks back over to him. “Asked you not to kill him.” Ghost just grunts. 

Ryan, that's his name. You never mentioned that to them, you didn’t mention much just that he was making you uncomfortable. Gaz was right they should have dealt with this sooner. They shouldn’t have let you go to the party alone. Even before you left you had reservations. 

Ryan hasn’t said much. He was very drunk when they picked him up. He seems pretty sober now, he’s scared. 

Good, he should be.

Ghost wonders if you were scared, when you were assaulted. It doesn’t seem like you remember much, for your sake he hopes it stays that way. 

The door to the secluded warehouse opens, the sound of slamming metal echoes in the space. John bought this place a few months ago, used to store scrap metal. The place still smells of rust, but it’s outside the city center, it’s quiet and that's all they need. 

Price walks over coming out of the darkness. He doesn’t say a word, just takes in the scene. Ryan looks up, his eyes glued on the new person walking up to him. Price grabs the back of a chair and places it in front of him before sitting down. 

“Ryan, right?” He asks. The man nods. “Had a good night? He doesn’t move. 

“Do you like your job?” He nods again. Price leans forward. “So, let's have a chat about what happened tonight.” 

“Nothing happened tonight,” he says, swallowing hard. Price smiles at him for a second before sitting back up.

“Let’s try that again. What happened at the party?” Ryan looks confused for a second. Blood is still dripping from his nose, Price sighs this is going to be a long night. 

“Wait, is this all about her?” He asks looking up past Price at Ghost. “Look I don’t know what you think happened but she came onto me.” 

Price hums his hands gripping his thighs before getting up and moving the chair away. “Thing is, I just don’t believe you.” Ghost steps back over to him. 

“I’m telling the truth.” He pleads. 

“Nope, try again.” Price says. Ghost’s fist crashes into Ryans face. His head snaps uncomfortably, he spits blood coughing. 

“So what happened at the party?” Price asks again. 

“Who the fuck even are you!?” He shouts looking round at the 3 men standing in front of him.  

“That doesn’t matter.” Price says, Ryan scoffs spitting again. 

“Why do you care?” He asks, looking around at everyone. 

“It’s a simple question.” Price says bending down so his head is level with his face. “We can be here all night. Or you can be honest with us.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, there’s a shake in his voice. The adrenaline and alcohol pumping through his system is filling him with confidence. They have to break that first. Price sighs moving back to stand with Gaz. 

This time Ghost’s fist slams into his stomach. He buckles over in pain, crying out as he pants. Price doesn’t wait, striding over to him grabbing his hair, pulling his head back. 

“Okay, okay. But she was drunk!” He shouts, trying to fight Price’s grip. His arms and legs are tied to the chair. Price doesn’t let go of his head holding it back as far as it will go. 

“No. Try again.” Price says through gritted teeth. 

“I didn't do anything!” He says between breaths. Price looks up at Ghost and nods, Ghost unfolds his arms going back over to the car. 

“We can make this very uncomfortable for you. All we need is the truth.” Price says, pulling his head again. 

“I don’t know anything.” There’s a whimper in his voice, a crack in his confidence. They're getting there. Price forces his head straight as Ghost comes back over to them twirling the knife in his hand. Ryans eyes go wide, his arms and legs pulling on the restraints. Price keeps his grip firm on his head forcing him to look at Ghost’s hulking figure moving towards him. 

“Last chance.” Price says. Ryan doesn’t say anything, his eyes still locked onto Ghost. 

“I-I didn't-” He sucks in a breath of air swallowing. “She was drunk!” 

Price sighs, shaking his head. He looks up at Ghost, he can see the disgust behind his lieutenants eyes. 

Ghost plunges the knife into his thigh. Price lets go of Rhyn’s head as he screams.

_____________________

John left almost an hour ago. Johnny recommended a bath instead of a shower, so you could soak and warm up. He gets in the bath with you pulling your back up against his chest as you sit between his legs. The bath was a good idea, the water is almost too hot but you don’t mind. 

It feels good to be in Johnny’s arms. He helps you rub soap over your body. He’s gentle, pressing kisses on your shoulders avoiding your neck. You sigh, relaxing back into him. Your head is still stuffy, it feels like you’ve been run over by a truck. 

“Where is everyone?” You ask. 

“Out, they’ll be back soon don’t worry.” He says his voice is warm in your ear. His arms squeeze you closer to him. The memories of the night seem to be just out of reach, you remember a face though. 

“I know who it was,” you say your voice catches in your throat. 

“Shh, we don’t have to talk about it.” His hand comes to push hair behind your ear. You smile, you don’t want to talk about it but maybe it will help. 

“I have work tomorrow.” Your stomach sinks. The thought of going back to that place with him there. Having to spend the days avoiding him, brushing off his hands as they squeeze your ass or his fingers press against your breasts. You were going to talk to your boss about him in the new year. 

“No you don’t, don’t worry about anything.” He says kissing your shoulder again. You shiver, the water has lost its heat. Johnny shifts pushing you forward. 

“C’mon let’s get you into bed. You’ll feel better after a good sleep.” You don’t know if you believe him but he gets out the bath leaving you alone and cold. You feel dirty, used. You feel panic rising in your chest. As soon as you hear the door to the room open you lay down in the tub closing your eyes and holding your breath. 

Your mind goes back to the alley, it’s like flashes in your vision, the dump trash bin you’re uncomfortably bent over. A hand over your mouth then round your neck. The pain, the pain is unbelievable. You don’t remember how it happened, how you ended up there, the next thing you remember is a party of drunk women finding you. Then the paramedics showed up. 

Your lungs burn but you don’t care. You deserve the pain. Hands grip your arms pulling you up out of the water. 

“Christ love,” Johnny says, holding you against him as you pant sucking in breaths of air. The panting turns to sobbing. He reaches, pulling the plug out the bath and picking you up in his arms. 

“I know, love I know.” He takes you into the bedroom putting you down on the bed. You pull your legs up to your chest. Johnny dries you, rubbing you down while you sob. He brings pyjamas over, he helps you change, pulling the fresh clothes on you. You still feel dirty, maybe it will always be like this. You don’t want it to be like this.

“It hurts.” You say as he climbs into bed behind you. His arms wrap around you pulling your back against his chest. 

“You’re okay lass, you’re safe.” He kisses the top of your head. It’s not, it's not going to be okay. You just hope whatever the others are doing they’re safe. You miss them, you want to see them again. You want everything to go back to normal 

…

Simon crawls into the bed with you and Johnny. You’re asleep on Johnny’s chest. He shuffles up against your back wrapping his arm around you both. His hair is still wet from the shower. He kisses the top of your head. Johnny stirs feeling a hand grip his hip. 

“Did you get him?” Johnny asks, his voice still sleepy. 

“Yeah, we got him.” 

_____________________

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Genre: Angst and hurt; somewhat fluffy (but only for a brief while). Warnings: Swearing. Unhealthy relationship/coping mechanisms (?). Word count: 2.2k+

Lucifer had been courting you for a couple of months already, the King of Hell finally deciding it was time to make the two of you official. The tension was so incredibly thick, that even the hotel’s patrons were growing sick of having to watch the two of you dance aimlessly around each other. Charlie included. 

The past couple of months were more than delightful – Lucifer treated you like a Queen, taking you out almost every other night, having nice candle-lit dinners, and dancing the night away. And if you weren’t really feeling the glamour, the both of you would stay cuddled up against one another whilst watching some cliche rom-com. It was like a dream. It was perfect…well, almost. 

The very source of your concerns was the golden band that remained in Lucifer’s ring-finger. 

You knew about the heart-break and torment that Lucifer underwent following his separation with Lilith. Understandably, having been together for many decades and centuries, the King had a difficult time trying to move on. Even in the earlier stages of your relationship, when he had been comfortable confiding in you, it was evident that he still deeply cared for Lilith, despite her absence. 

You tried to be understanding – you really, really did. But every time you held his hand, the cold metal feeling against your fingers set a painful reminder that maybe he still hasn’t moved on completely. 

It filled you to the brim with self-doubt. Perhaps he was just keeping you around just to fill in the void she had left. And if that were the case, were you even doing a good enough job in that? Hypothetically, if Lilith were to waltz in front of the hotel’s doors one day, was he going to throw you off to the side and run away with her? What if he’d grow bored of you all of a sudden?

Questions such as these would linger at the back of your head constantly, and as they did, you would cast a longing gaze in his direction. When he catches your eye, he would automatically send a smile your way, pearly-whites in full display. It would make you smile without fail, because how could it not? You loved that dashing smile of his. But everyday, you wondered if you could continue to maintain that smile in your life. 

One night in particular, during dinner at one of Hell’s finest establishments, Lucifer noticed that something was off. Your smile hasn’t been reaching your eyes, and you seemed like you were anywhere but here. Your eyes had a distant look to them and whenever he’d ask if something was wrong, you would become dismissive. It concerned him a lot. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Lucifer carefully asked once you both made it to the front porch of the hotel. “Was it the food? Was it not to your liking? Because the chicken was a bit off to be honest, it could’ve been a bit more seasoned–” 

“Luci,” you intervened and grabbed his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “The food was great, really. It’s just…” As your voice trailed off, you were quick to feel that damn ring around his finger. Because, of course you did, and it didn’t help your mood at all. You force out a huff and pull away, causing the demon’s frown to deepen, “I’m feeling a little under the weather tonight – probably just lacking a bit of sleep.” 

Lucifer scanned your face all over, his brows furrowed in worry. “Well…I guess you have been working harder for the hotel recently.” There had been some truth in that – after all, there had been an influx of sinners in the hotel since the cancellation of this year’s extermination. But he didn’t seem to stop there, not fully convinced by your reasoning, “...But are you sure that’s all, my dear?” 

You looked at him, surprised, as if suddenly caught red-handed. He was quick to pick up on that too, confirming his suspicions and making him all the more nervous.

 “What are you trying to say?” You ask. 

“Well, i-it’s just that I noticed that you’ve been acting a bit off recently,” he splutters. “And not only tonight. You’ve become a bit more…I don’t know, distant with me. And it worries me, y’know? I just…I really, really care about you. A lot.” He almost looks defeated as he rubs anxiously at his nape, “And if I’m being honest, it scares the absolute shit out of me that what I’m doing now isn't right."

Your brows crease in confusion, “...What are you talking about?” 

Lucifer closed his eyes, dragging a palm against his face as an exaggerated groan leaves his lips. “Look, I’m not exactly experienced with all…all this – the one woman I’ve ever been in a committed relationship with left me. Just like that!” He lets out a humourless snort. “A-And I don’t know what I did to make her leave and I for sure don’t want to make that same mistake again. I…I want to be assured that I’m making you happy.” 

Lucifer looks up at you, eyes filled with warmth, as he places a gentle hand against your cheek. He breaks the distance between you to press his forehead against yours. You automatically lean against him out of habit. “I don’t want to lose you. And if I’m doing something wrong, tell me. Please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads, his voice almost falling into a whisper. The unexpected confession left you speechless, your chest feeling all the more tight. It was making you feel worse than you already did. 

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to keep the pending tears at bay. “Luci, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…I-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Trust me when I say that you’ve been nothing more than a gentleman, and every moment we’ve spent together has been magical. I appreciate you so, so much, and I could never, ever ask for anything more.” 

You shut your eyes tight, shame filling your very core. “I’m just being a little silly–”

“No, no. Don’t say that, darling. Please tell me what’s going on. It’s okay,” Lucifer encourages softly, his thumb rubbing reassuringly against your cheek. 

You grab his wrist and gently pull your face away from him. With the hand on his arm, you slide it down to grab at his own, bringing it up into view and in-between the both of you. Almost instantaneously, both your eyes lie on the golden band on his finger – to Lucifer, it suddenly clicks. But he couldn’t help but feel an internal conflict brew within him. 

“I-I know how much that ring and Lilith means to you. I really do and I feel awful having to feel this way, but I just…I can’t help it,” you mutter, finally allowing the first couple of tears to fall, “I-I often find myself counting the days and hours when you’ll suddenly realise that I will never be good enough for you. It feels like I’m constantly having to compete with her–heck, what am I even saying? I know I’ll never be able to compete – because, I mean, come on. I'm a nobody!” You chuckle tearfully whilst gesturing to yourself with a free hand.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever understand how you’d ever settle for someone like me. I’m not nearly as important, nor am I the best-looking demon out there. I’m just me.”

“But Lucifer, whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I smile more. Laugh more. I even enjoy the little things more. And I don’t want that to go away. And I’m just hoping– Satan, I’m fucking hoping that it’s the same for you. And if it is, then how long is that going to last with me?” 

Completely shocked, Lucifer watched in silence as his love sobbed their heart out in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to go and wrap you in his warm embrace, and whisper reassurances and hush down your cries. Because, you were right – you did make him happy. So unbelievably happy. You had been the light that casted away the shadows in his darkest times. And yet, why? Why did he remain where he stood, unmoving as tears pathetically poured from his eyes? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

There was a brief, stagnant moment of contemplation where the both of you just stood there. It was the realisation that Lucifer didn’t make any effort to formulate some form of response, that disappointed you even further. It only made the doubtful voice in your head louder. 

It was you who ultimately decided to make the first move, wiping tiredly at your reddened face as you glanced at the hotel’s door. “I’ll be heading off first. I’ll be in the guest room tonight – it’s been a long day,” you raspily say, hiccuping as you pushed through the doors and disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lucifer alone outside. 

As you entered the hotel, you immediately noticed Husk’s presence by the bar, who had been polishing some glasses by the counter. In front of him was Angel, who was making some sweet, small talk with him. They were both alerted by your entrance as the doors flew open, and as Angel was about to greet you in his usual playful fashion, his voice fell flat when he saw the depressed state you were in. 

“Woah, there. What the hell happened to you? You look like shit,” Angel asked, standing to meet you half-way, “I thought you and Short-King were out on a date. Did something happen?” 

“We were but we had a fight or something,” you tiredly shrugged as you walked past the arachnid and plopped yourself down on one of the bar stools. You swirled yourself on the seat to face Husk. “Give me the strongest shit you have. And make it double,” you waved absently at the feline-demon, who raised an incredulous brow at your bluntness. “Damn, it must be that serious considering you don’t even drink,” he grumbles as he turns to start brewing a glass of something, “...do you wanna talk about it?"

You contemplated his offer for a second and realised that you did. For the next five or so minutes, you ended up recounting everything that happened earlier tonight, all the while shedding even more tears. Angel was kind enough to supply you with a mountain of tissues to cry into.

“Well, it sounds to me that your man’s got a whole lot of thinking to do,” Husk clicks his tongue. “But what you’re feeling is completely valid.” “Yeah, who the fuck wears their ol’ wedding ring while dating someone else? What an asshole,” Angel hisses. 

“S-So you guys think there’s a possibility that he might consider ending things with me?” You question dejectedly. Husk and Angel share a look of uncertainty, suddenly feeling the need to be careful of their words. Because they genuinely weren’t sure.

“I–Look, that’s not something we should be focusing on at the moment– I mean, of course, let’s hope that that’s not where this is going. I just think he needs some space to think things through properly,” Husk says. 

“And I know I was talking a whole lot of shit before but let’s take the benefit of the doubt and look at things from his point of view. He was in that boat for more than a couple thousand years. And shit, that’s a lot of fucking years.” Angel points out. “It might take him a while longer to adjust to that, y’know?” Angel places a hand on your shoulder, grinning at you reassuringly, “But there’s one thing for sure that myself and everyone else knows: the guy loves yah, toots. Anyone with eyes can see it, and you guys are really fucking disgusting about it too–ow!” 

Angel suddenly lunges forward against the counter as one of Husk’s wings swipes down to slap the back of his head. “‘The fuck was that for?! It’s true, ain’t it?!” Husk rolled his eyes at his dramatics, before turning back to you. “He’s right, though. Just…just give him a bit more time. I’m sure in the end, the both of you will be fine.” 

Meanwhile, Lucifer decided to head back to his own castle, wanting to be alone to sort through his cluttered thoughts. He was beyond upset with himself for making you cry like that, because it was the last thing he wanted. But he was more upset at the fact that he didn’t know how to navigate through his emotions, despising that he found himself second guessing his feelings. 

As you explicitly implied, was he really still unconsciously longing for Lilith? Was that why he kept wearing his ring? Why was he still wearing it? Was it just for his own comfort? But why would he need it anyways? You were there, weren’t you? All he had said to you tonight, he was contradicting himself, wasn’t he? Perhaps he’s scared. Maybe he isn’t ready yet. But, why would he be with you if he didn’t think so? What exactly were you to him? And what exactly was Lilith to him now?

Lucifer was a complete mess, and that night he couldn’t find a single blink of sleep as these thoughts plagued him. And neither could you, as you scrutinised every aspect of your relationship, thinking of what this could mean for the both of you, moving forward.

Yeah…perhaps you both needed some time. 

Chapter II [x]

[kissitbttr]

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

he rolls his eyes each time you confront him about his alcohol consumption and weekend parties. demanded you to stay out of his way because he doesn’t belong to you and vice versa. so he’s free to do whatever he wants

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who goes to classes whenever he pleases, ignoring your advice about taking care of his grades because you want to see him excel in everything. not just football. he refuses to have you mentor him because he doesn’t want to be babied

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who throws or give away every cookie and home cooked meals you make for him for lunch. he hates the little notes you give him, so he crumples the papers and put it in a bin. he hates how you smile each time you see him on hallways or campus park, calling by his nickname ‘kuna!’ it’s so embarrassing. jesus, can you shut the fuck up?!

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who flirts with girls during parties and classes, inviting them over to have sex despite knowing how you feel about him. what the two of you have is a casual thing, he’s not your boyfriend! so why should he gives a shit about you crying when you see him holding a girl’s hand, guiding her upstairs.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who promises that he’ll change as long as you stay the night after a fuck session. he break down your walls by giving you an aftercare and a glass of water. he lets you cuddle into his chest and kisses the top of your head… only to kick you out the next morning because he’s seeing yorozu and he doesn’t want you around.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who pretends like he doesn’t know you exist except when he’s hitting you up late at night. smirking to himself at just how easy it is for you to respond immediately. god, it’s too easy.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who’s expression remains stoic when you pour your heart out to him… telling him how much you want to be his despite everything that he did to you. all because you are certain that he cares about you. but he denies it. telling you to fuck off because he doesn’t want you beyond sex. so either you stay as his fuck buddy or leave.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who throws a party thirty minutes after you left crying from his room. shrugging it off and decides he’s going to fuck different girls that night by the help of his friends. gojo and geto.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who feels like something is wrong not having you by his side. it has been weeks that you left and he hasn’t seen you a lot on campus. discreetly trying to find you through your friends, the classes you’re taking, even stalk through your social medias. only to find you have already blocked him out of your life.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who sees you at the campus park after going missing from his life. you were wearing a smile that he finds so pretty annoying and a look of glow that he has never seen before. you were laughing with your friends and your hand was… wait a minute…

gojo satoru?!

frat!sukuna is an asshole

who marches to gojo after practice and punch him straight into his jaw until he tumbles. yelling at the white haired man for stealing you away when he was supposed to be sukuna’s best friend. how long has its been going on? when did you guys meet? are you two dating already?

gojo doesn’t care. he doesn’t care about being sukuna’s best friend. all he cares about is you. the sweet gorgeous girl who he had his eyes on throughout junior year. even during the times you were hooking up with sukuna… he still has his eyes on you.

and gojo loves you. dear god, he loves you. there is nothing in this world he wouldn’t give.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who quiets down when gojo admits his feelings about you. because he could treat you better than that pink haired bastard who doesn’t care about you. because gojo notices everything. he notices the food that you cooked, the notes, the nickname, the coddling, the sweet cheery voice when you see sukuna… what kind of man would give that up?

you have so many flowers to receive and gojo is not going to miss out on that chance to hand them to you.

and sukuna releases his grip around gojo’s collar, backing away from the man without another word and out of the locker room. frustrated with himself and curses himself in the head for being this way.

frat!sukuna is an asshole…

…who’s too late to say he actually fucking loves you