#god forbid a woman care about her friends. guess what they care about her too and theyre not suddenly dad figures. WEIRD! !!

[partyswirl]

not redrawing i found it. anyway so often woman characters are forced into that role of the one having to "taking care of" or "holding back" the men characters. FUNNY HOW THAT IS starts frothingat the mouth

god that post making me think of that one meme i'llr edraw it but specifically something about it. that i've noticed

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Happy Hour

Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of drinking

0.8k words

Teach Me Tonight Masterlist

Friday. The first week of school was finished, and you’d survived. No more coffee from Roy Kent, but plenty of good mornings and even a couple more smiles.

Leanne Bowen poked her head into your classroom after school to remind you about the first happy hour of the year. It was coming up on four, and you knew you were probably the last two teachers on campus; a normal occurrence, something that bonded the two of you.

“Willing to bet it takes Teresa all of two seconds to start hitting on the waiter,” she joked, referring to the older fifth year teacher who never seemed to outgrow her habit of flirting with every man she saw: waiters, shop clerks, single dads, not single dads.

You grinned. “Well, that’s just tradition at this point.”

With your desk semi-organized and your lights off, you shouldered your bag- already bursting with papers, despite only being five days into the year- and started to head to the parking lot. In the distance, you could see one of the school football teams wrapping up a practice; a bit surprising, considering how early in the term it was.

It was even more surprising when you heard your name shouted from across the field in a multitude of little voices. You squinted, looking past the crowd of girls jumping and waving, realizing a figure in all black was holding up one hand in greeting. Even from this distance, you knew it was Roy Kent. With your face aflame, you waved back, grateful that he couldn’t see the nervous grimace that crossed your face.

At the pub, you found a group of teachers at a table in the back, drinks already in front of most people. You plopped down next to Leanne, who offered you a smile. You gave your order to a passing server, then turned to join the conversation.

Leanne studied your face, which you were sure had a permanent blush at this point. “How was the first week?”

“Good, good. Yours?”

Before she could speak, Teresa opened her mouth. “Saw Phoebe O’Sullivan coming to school with a coffee the other day,” she crowed, waggling her eyebrows at you.

Damn. You put on what you hoped was a casual smile as a server set your drink in front of you. “Yeah, I guess she wanted to bring me a treat. She’s a sweet little thing.”

Teresa’s smile was almost mocking. “Yes, because Phoebe O’Sullivan is the one driving to school each morning.”

Karen Selig piped up. “And didn’t I see you taking a picture of her and Roy Kent on the first day of school?” She winked at you. “You must admit, he’s a real dish.”

“Oh, can it, you two,” Leanne scoffed. “We’re half your age and not nearly as hard up as you lot.” She turned to you, angling her body to let the other teachers know that the conversation was officially over. “Ignore them. Especially Karen.” She sipped her drink. “Gave me a hard time about Coach Kent when I had Phoebe too.”

You laughed, pretending your chest wasn’t tightening with all these mentions of his name. “Yeah, God forbid a man is nice to a woman.”

Leanne paused, her finger skimming her glass. “Yeah. Nice.”

“Lee?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at the colleague you considered more friend than co-worker.

She glanced around the table, double checking that the others were suitably distracted. Satisfied that Teresa and Karen were much more interested in a passing busboy than the two of you, she murmured, “Just… Kent’s very nice.” Her voice was careful. “And it’s… easy to misinterpret him.” Her smile was tight. “And that can be quite humiliating.”

“Uh-huh.” God, you hoped your face wasn’t flushed. Leanne was right; already, you were letting his kindness go to your head.

“I hope I’m not being a total fuck-witch,” she added, garnering a smile from you at the mention of her favorite nickname. “Honestly, I’m not trying to scare you off or anything. This isn’t a ‘I want the fella’ thing. Just giving you a heads-up. Between those two nosy things and his… everything, I don’t want you feeling as stupid as I did.” She took a sip of her drink. “But if there is something starting to happen,” she added, eyes suddenly full of teasing, “just do yourself a favor and don’t call him a mess.”

Your body began to relax as you let out a playful scoff. “Lee, you didn’t.”

She nodded, wrinkling her nose. “I did.” She touched her glass to yours. “Anyways, enjoy your very long year of having Roy Kent in your classroom.”

Before you could make some joke, your server came over with another drink for you, one you knew you hadn’t ordered. “From the gentleman at the bar,” he murmured.

You turned around as discreetly as you could, trying not to garner the attention of the veteran teachers.

Oh fuck.

Clad in that leather jacket and sitting next to- was that Jamie Tartt?- Roy Kent held up his beer in greeting to you before turning his attention back to the young footballer. Your face was positively glowing with embarrassment as you turned around to look at Leanne, whose mouth was open in a wide, knowing smile.

“Oh, you’re proper fucked,” she cackled.

Taglist:@infinetlyforgotten @gothicwidowsworld

[strangedreamings]

S3E4 (spoilers abound)

Portia, Prudence, and Philippa listening at the open door while Debling calls on Pen. The three of them are anything but subtle.

Aww, he gave her a potted plant so she can have nature indoors with her. I hope somebody in this house has a green thumb. He is sweet but he'd better be honest with whoever he ends up marrying about his actual reason for finding a wife.

Has Pen truly given up on Colin? It's sad if that's true.

"I will surely eat all of the biscuits" You mean we FINALLY have an appearance by Colin's bottomless pit of a stomach? It only took what, TWO AND A HALF SEASONS?!

Violet knows when something is up but she also knows a dismissal when she hears one.

Benedict and Lady Tilley. Yeah, she's this season's Siena, though I will say I like her a lot more than I liked Siena (which isn't hard). She won't last but at least they'll be fun to watch while she's around.

Agatha and Marcus. Their dynamic is interesting -- "Do whatever, I'm too busy to get involved." I doubt he'll last beyond S3, but you never know.

"to become the new Marquess Samadani" OH MY FUCKING GOD, SHONDA, YOU DID NOT!!! The wife of a marquess (or a female marquess in her own right) is not called a marquess, but a MARCHIONESS! I know marquess isn't a common title in the British peerage but Shonda, you have access to Wikipedia, FUCKING USE IT!!!

"You read me too well." God, I love Charlotte and Brimsley.

Violet, El, Fran, and the kids are expecting Lord Samadani but Maybe-John has dropped in instead. We'd better learn his name soon, this is driving me nuts.

"John Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin." FUCKING FINALLY!!!! I don't care that his accent is wrong, I love this guy already! Is your cousin Michael in town too, John? Or is he earning his title of the Merry Rake elsewhere?

John and Fran are simply enjoying the silence and the rest of the family is completely baffled, I love it. And here comes Samadani, lovely. John, your timing is awful.

Samadani seems like a nice enough guy, he's just wrong for Francesca.

Love the library, hate Portia's internalized misogyny. I really feel for Cressida now. Can Debling marry her once Colin finally gets his head out of his ass and marries Pen?

I take "revelry" to mean Colin's friends are going whoring and want him to come with, lovely.

Debling is finally being honest? Well, not directly, but still, I'll take it for now. Oh, he's being subtle but he is being direct, got it. Poor Pen, she's torn between the life she wants and a good life that's being offered to her.

Colin with his two ladies again but this time, he's not into it. If you've already paid, Colin, you could've just bid them goodnight and left, you didn't have to stay.

Francesca running into John on the street. These two are a little too quiet for their own good, but I'm sure they'll be fine, maybe with a little help from Violet.

The Cowpers' sitting room has to be the most depressing room on the planet. Lord Cowper's forbidding Cressida from being friends with Eloise? Is it because of Colin? Or Pen? Or maybe he thinks she's putting too much effort into the friendship and not enough into finding a husband. Cressida, I'm guessing you're the same age as Daphne, so I believe that makes you 23 now. You're a legal adult and have been for two years. It would be highly irregular but you could move out of your parents' house. I'm sure the Bridgertons would take you in if Eloise explained everything.

Uh oh, the Mondriches' pub needs saving (again). We'll have another last-minute save by a Bridgerton by the time S3 is over, I'm sure. Frankly, most of the ton can fuck themselves, and that includes Colin's "friends," especially Fife. Pig.

Colin wanting more out of sex is a great sign of both his maturity and him falling in love.

So Debling's serious about proposing to Pen. Poor Pen and poor Cressida.

BTW, I love how the subtitles keep calling the music this season "pensive," it feels like an unintended pun.

For a woman who can't come up with a decent metaphor to save her life, Violet is very wise when it comes to her kids. Oh, she is playing Colin like a fiddle! Go, Violet!

I really like her and Marcus together, he seems like a great guy, though apparently somewhat estranged from Agatha.

Cressida came to Eloise. El really brings out the best in her, something her parents really try to keep hidden. I swear to God, Shonda, if you don't give Cressida a happy ending, I will.

Be careful, Fran, especially with the Queen watching.

Colin has finally outgrown his "friends," halleluiah!

Well, at least Debling bowed out gracefully. And Cressida still has a chance, as slim as it is.

Oh, is this THE carriage scene? Not quite how the book one went but hey, if we get the same outcome, I'm all for it.

Aww, Colin looks like he's about to cry.

"Are you going to marry me or not?" Colin, I could kiss you but I'll leave that to Pen. WE GOT OUR BOOK PROPOSAL!!!

And we don't even get an answer before the episode ends.

Nice cliffhanger, Shonda.

[xeno6277]

So, I'm just gonna say this and What happens with it does.

I've been transmasc for several years. Originally realizing I was not cis at 14 and then coming out at nobinary transmasc at 19. I medically started at 20. And a consistent thing that I think no other transmasc is talking about is

Cw// transphobia, SA, SA threats. Misogyny/misandry, transmisogyny.

Women have been the WORST for transphobia.

Like I am LAUGHING at some of the stuff cis men will call me because it's just plane ridiculous. Most of them can only muster a rape threat or seven.

But that white lady that misgendered me while I was at my job will always have my ever lasting distain. She misgenders me then I corrected her then she said, "well you have such a feminin face and voice," and then proceeded to tell me EVERY little thing about me that was a "give away" most of it ONLY pretending to her because most people have lives.

Like these women will come into stores KNOWING I'll get in trouble if I retaliate in any way.

The other reaction I get which is not much better is fetishization. Because I "know how it is" I don't know how it is. Or "It's hot that you have boobs and a vagina. You don't need to transition" like uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Please don't say that to me while I'm crying form dysphoria and contemplating the big die.

Unfortuantly trans women are included in this and it is 1000xs more painful when they do it. The last trans woman I was in a relationship with knew I was ace and deeply traumatized. She SA'd me and my now partner anyway. She also was planning to get my pregnant. Something that will kill me physically and in every other way imagined. She didn't care.

This happens because they never deconstructed the belief that other people's bodies are not automatically theirs because she wanted them. Most trans women DO deconstruct this in my experience.

Unfortunately I have been apprehensive to approach anyone else in the lgbtq+. Because of this werid hierarchy that people created they want to immediately believe ANYTHING a transwoman says and fuck anyone else.

Also because they still passed as a white man they got white male privilege.

She got arrested after we called the cops on her for beating and screaming at us late into the night. 8 police calls and reports. She tired to kill my best friend I've ever had.

The judge literally let her go with just a slap on the wrist. Community service they got out of doing and a $100 fine. Not a $1000. $100 they didn't even pay they got someone else too.

They allowed a violent rapist walk free.

I don't know if I can deal with talking about this in person with other trans people and being grilled because they don't believe me. It's the same reason I'm probably deleating this. I have to just get it out.

I have had a TRANS NURSE at the frist informed concent clinic I went to, to get hrt. Have the nerve to ask me, "why do you wanna be a man, they're gross and suck." Like bitch that shit wasn't funny when it came out of terfs in 2014 it isn't funny now. For the past 4 years it feels like transwomen and 2014 terfs melted togeather. It become disheartening. The worst part is when they tell you that you basically deserve all this abuse because you "choose to be man"

Yeah I choose to transition and live the rest of my life and not jump off a bridge and drown.

Oh and GOD forbid you bring ANY of these double standards to their attention. They will go on for HOURS about how I apparently have more prilidge than them.

So I guess trans women have to worry about someone grabbing them, raping them. Them getting pregnant and having to go through an abortion-oh wait that's becoming more outlawed in the US where I reside. Hmm.

Having to go through a painful ordeal that will DRAIN THEIR WALLETS. Will perminatlly alter their bodies that might make them so dysphroic they kill themselves. If not the birthing process will more than likely take care of that.

I bring this up to trans women and its like deer in headlights. They aren't even thinking of us. One even telling me that she "forgot not every trans man had that part removed"

IVE MET ONLY 2 TRANS MEN WHO HAD THAT "PART" REMOVED.

I've been pressured on my OWN side blog I have FOR TRANS AND NON BINARY PEOPLES EXPERINCES, To in some way represent trans women on that but the second we even ask for rep on trans women's accounts and YouTubes. It's too much. The second we ask to be included in stuff we're overstepping.

Trans men and nonbinary people are not "invisable" were actively silenced.

I've felt nothing but bytral by women my entire life. And it has not gotten any better. I understand that nobody owes me but don't expect people to treat yall with respect when you won't give it.

[unhingedhearties]

Sometimes A Photo Is Just A Photo

Erin and Ben are apparently back in Canada and were hanging out with Chris and his girlfriend/ fellow Hallmark actress.

Let's see how the infants handle it.

The "I'm Done With The Show" brigade is still stalking WCTH related posts.

"Damage Control". Boy, I hope a certain group of Hearties don't latch onto that phrase and repeat it over and over on this post like they tend to do when they can't come up with an independent thought.

This feels like it should be common sense, but don't ever "love" someone you've never met with "all your heart".

Oh look who it is. foxyinspiration right on cue to prove she doesn't have a thought in her head. Sadly I've already referenced the movie Screamers on this blog so I've got nothing besides hoping she ends up like Private Ross.

God forbid a woman do anything, right? Seriously, you're going to look at a photo where Ben's making a face like that but focus on Erin laughing "too hard".

Also, there are still people who don't believe Erin and Ben are a couple. Amazing.

37 freaking responses. Ugh… let's break these down. Without cheating, guess how many times they claim "damage control".

Private people are never allowed to go out with friends or show up in pictures on someone else's social media site. Are Chris and Julie actually private people or has the unhinged section of the Hearties fandom driven them to be more reserved and distant on social media? Just my opinion-thanks for your feedback though.

Some sanity prevails.

I try really hard to not make comments about people's grammar. I come from a large family of people who's first language isn't English. I learned English at a young age but it's still my second language. I get it. Having said that, what the hell are you trying to say? Also, judging by your profile picture, you're a middle aged woman. You are way too old to be speaking in hashtags. Grow up.

I don't know, maybe one of these two couples are new parents and have a small child at home that limits where/when/how they're able to go out? Maybe one of these two couples live in another country and only meet up when they have a movie that's filming near the other couple? Maybe… wait a minute. Hasn't Chris been in group pictures with Erin and the other actors? I don't obsess over the actor's personal lives so I don't know when he started dating Julie, but maybe they weren't together at the time so that's why she's not in those pictures. No that makes too much sense. Surely the reason Chris and Julie haven't been in a lot of photos with Erin and Ben is because… something to do with their character arcs from the last five seasons… but those seasons had different show runners… Look, none of this makes sense right now but I'll figure out a way to make it work. I'll start with my own conclusion and work backwards to justify it.

Stop making sense, you're upsetting the zoo animals!

Damn, I might be clairvoyant. markrymill said almost the same thing I said. Aaaaaaand of course she ignores all those points to accuse Erin of hiding comments. If Erin was actually wasting her time hiding comments, why are yours and all the other mindless parrots comments still visible? Maybe they got reported for being spam or harassment.

Say the line, Bart!

"a Governor's position that doesn't even exist in Canda!" Oh no! A historical inaccuracy in When Calls The Heart!? Wait, are we in favor of that or against it? Fans keep changing their opinion on that point. And like any of the people watching WCTH care about Canadian history. "Supposedly given a hero's arc yet he doesn't get the girl?" Women are just trophies for men to collect. Lucas is set up to maybe have an actual exciting storyline where his character does something for the greater good of society, but who cares. He didn't get the pretty decoration. It's amazing that these people will complain about the quality of the stories and writing but then say dumb stuff like this. Chris might have the chance to do something really good with his character besides look over a balcony and sip tea from a dainty cup but his own fans want to stop that.

Listen up Team Smooth-Brain. I want you to follow along so grab a safety pencil and a circle of paper: For this to have been set-up, Erin would have had to fly out to Canada, taking Ben with her. She would have then had to call up Chris and Julie, hope that neither of them were working that day, convince them to not only go out to lunch, but tell them to get a baby-sitter for their however many months old baby. Instead of picking a restaurant with decent lightning she picked this florescent nightmare for her staged photo. She then told everyone to smile, took the photo, and posted it to her Instagram page to… what exactly? What was her plan to control people's reactions? Because the people who are fine with WCTH were going to write the same generic "lol so cute to see you guys be friends" comments they were always going to write and the people who stomp their feet like toddlers who didn't get the toy they wanted were going to write the same "this is all fake damage control trying to control the narrative Chris is being forced at metaphorical gun point to smile in these photos" CSI bullshit they post on every one of her photos.

I hear Chris was offered a roll on a new show called Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies. He should quit WCTH and devote all of his time to that instead.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! :D

"they are trying to manipulate us again. Not gonna happen 😢" I didn't know Hallmark had MKUltra agents on their marketing team.

#AnyoneButNathan

I hope When Calls The Heart gets another show runner and I hope they break Elizabeth and Nathan up and pair Elizabeth with a woman. Any woman*. I hope this show keeps going for however many seasons it takes to get a lesbian relationship with a major character.

*Except Fiona or Faith because those two are destined to be together and you can't convince me otherwise.

"Erin you're posting too many Kevin photos. It's rubbing salt in the wounds of heart broken Lucabeth fans who have PTSD just like those people currently in warzones and it's totally not tone-deaf of us to say that." "Erin you're posting all these photos of Chris to try and manipulate us into watching the next season. It's very cruel and sadistic of you." "Erin you're not fooling anyone by posting both Chris and Kevin photos. We're not falling for your damage control."

[llycaons]

final ch lb reposted bc it's not showing up in the tags???

AUGH THE CHAPTER IS CALLED DUNGEON MESHI. it's simple but I love it when they do that. perfect for dm, which is pared-down in themes but applies itself perfectly to what it wants to say

wow, damn, guess that makes sense, it's so amazing that laios brought so many people together with the simple promise of something that unites all living things - nourishment - and they in turn brought their own food to add to the communal pot. I would have liked to see more exploration of this community-building through food, but this is literally one of the only things I would change about dm it's so impeccable crafted

damn marcille

JESUS LAIOS

aw man, that's genuinely an awful thing to live with. this might be a happy ending, but laios lives with the consequences of his defeat of the demon

this is an actual medical condition too...people can get really sick

celebratory panel!!! ofc senshi is stoic (though without ever being unkind! he's unruffled without being cold) and izu doesn't rly care

sorry but 👀

THIS IS SO FUNNY. senshi being like 'I'm politely staying out of this' and everyone else being like 'yeah there's no way he's that selfless'

damn, what a step for marcille, who was so terrified of losing the people close to her

she's so hot here ugh

OHHH this visual is so cool

mmm tasty! her face says hehe she's so cute I missed her so bad. real babygirl material

yayy!!! and standing up suddenly able to walk, and TAKING the dragon with her??? that's so cute like a little plush

it would have been an interesting ending for her to maybe not recover the use of her legs? ending the story with a disability wouldn't have been a tragedy, and it's been done really well in other stories. like, I'm still me, this is a change that happened because of something I've been through, and it's something to adjust to and keep moving forward with. sorry to bring up tgcf here but sqx's storyline is truly so compelling like she DID that

SHES SO CUTE I CAN'T STAND IT. farlyn are you free friday I can take you to a movie and buy you dinner

really incredible how she's hot in one panel then charming in another then ravenous in the third. her range...

this is such lover behavior <3

AHHH SIBLING LOVE!!

marcille love!!! her legs lmao

😭😭😭 not many stories end this straightforwardly satisfyingly and honestly it's really really nice. a more bittersweet ending or a more 'mature' one might have had farlyn not come back at all a lesson abt death or w/e but fuck that!!

ohhhh sexy

STOP THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!! LOOK HOW HE'S SMILING. CRYING OVER THIS!!! character who barely know each other and have met like once before but will absolutely be friends for life. this might be my favorite panel in the chapter and maybe even series

PEACE AND LOVE ON THE PLANET EARTH

aww she's trying to reach out to izu. she's not someone who warms up to people easily but farlyn is just so lovable and sincere and weird that I can def see a friendship potentially for them

STOP STOP THIS IS SO CUTE. im so glad farlyn didn't get paired off or even god forbid MARRIED to that guy who likes her can you fucking imagine. maybe farcille isn't confirmed but they're real in our hearts and nothing disproves them

damn, pizza? I don't remember that

of course she does!!! she's outgoing and adventurous and loves to eat!

you know this story wouldn't have worked half as well if farlyn wasn't legitimately a charming and lovable character who was easy to get attached to and root for. if they tried going the jerk with a heart of gold route, it would have taken a lot longer and been harder to create sympathy for her. like how cql's appeal rests disproportionately on you liking and rooting for wwx, dungeon meshi's driving plot relied on you WANTING this woman to come back to life, to eat and see her friends and do her magic and get into her weird hobbies. and she's perfect! the writing doesn't rely on one cliched line or scene to get you to realize 'oh they're a good person despite their harsh exterior' to get you to root for her (even tho that's an underutilized technique for writing women), it just presents this oddball and lets you love her. rk is so good at writing women who feel like real people, it's a reason adore marcille - for her awkwardness, her judgement, her readiness to blow things up without thought. she's just a deeply uncool person who's very endearing

not to be a monarchist or anything but this is probably the best they could have gotten given the situation so I'm not going to complain too much. it's not like I read dm for in-depth and realistic political engagement

and this is like the easiest way to be a good leader. just care about your people getting the food they need. that's enough, really. I don't think laios is capable of much more anyway. it's not like he's a politican

also what does the succession line look like? I know he's not having a kid. omg kabru!! his face is so ajshdksad. and yayy marcille and farlyn staying to advise him together!!

oHHH SHIT. thesis statement of the series! also these babies are so fucking cute I can't deal. ik that one of them is a dog person but the other one??? is that an orc??? well take back what I said about just food being important. integration is happening here too - it's clear that laios's kingdom is welcoming of people like orcs who have historically been expelled from other places and violently targeted by other races. idk how he managed that but like, well done, laios!

you know I adore cql but it's such a relief to step into other stories that aren't quite so much about Good (TM ) in a vague and all-encompassing sense and also have characters who aren't laserfocused on one person and who you can envision making connections to and becoming close with other characters 😭 loving lwj is so hard sometimes loving farlyn is so easy always

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Lightlark is FINISHED.

The number of plot twists it threw at me in the last 20 pages is pretty daring I have to say. Like it knew none of this was gonna make sense so it had to distract me.

Okay like. Celeste being the bad guy and actually not being "Celeste" but Aurora, aka the og Starling ruler 500 years ago and caster of the curses, made me laugh out loud. Like FINALLY AN ACTUALLY EVIL WOMAN TO STAN. Rip gone too soon. It was dumb af but it was something actually kinda fun.

I knew about the stolen memories before I started reading bc a friend told me ages ago when they were reading this (they told me not to read it but I didn't listen lol) so that didn't surprise me. But DAMN right before the Centennial??? That's cold.

If I have to give credit for anything it's Alex Aster actually committing to Grim being the dark edgy "i dont care about anyone except my lover" LI and being like "yeah this means he would do some super fucked up shit and kill an entire realm of people for her" and also do some toxic shit aka steal her memories in order to "protect her" and again, credit for making Isla extremely not okay with this and choosing Oro instead

On that note the Oro/Isla ship is objectively the better one but that's like choosing between 2 beige shirts. There's nothing remotely developed about either relationship. On Grim's side you have the classic "being creepy and intimidating and making innuendos and snarky comments as flirting" and Oro's you have "jerk with a rarely seen soft side" for the majority of their time together.

I am SO unclear why Aurora could wield all six powers like okay obvs I get wildling, sunling starling and nightshade. But why skyling and moonling too??? Like where did that come from??? Explain

Hilarious how despite Cleo being innocent of all crimes EXCEPT you know the attempted killing of Isla - tbf, during an assassination game - Isla still hates her and we still don't have any knowledge of what makes her so evil in everyone's eyes except that she's mean. God forbid women do anything.

Annoying af that Isla only starts hating Poppy and Terra at the reveal that they hid her powers from her and not the years of abuse like I guess that's just not gonna be talked about at all

Anyway. Book finished. Should I read the second book? Idk we'll see. Thanks for joining me on this journey and glad you guys could enjoy the stupidity from a distance

[stfuviolet1]

Lately, I’ve been feeling this one kind of feeling and I don’t know how to make it go. Worse, I can’t even talk to anyone about it cause I made a promise to someone that I won’t tell a soul despite whatever happens in the future.

That person, wasn’t just my friend. She was my soul sister. We went through so much things together. From diploma days, until degree days. She knows a lot of things about me, my relationship, my secret, my family problems and I, know a lot of things about her too. And one day, all of sudden everything changed. We got into big fight and our friendship shattered. Even after we tried to rekindle, things weren’t the same anymore for the both us. Everything became so awkward. And there goes our 6 years of friendship down the drain.

After all these years of not talking to each other, I learnt that she’s someone wife now. I’m all happy for her I mean looking back, her past with her ex wasn’t just traumatizing to her but to me as well. She was treated like shit and when I heard that she’s getting married all I pray for is that the man would treat her better than her exes. I wanted to congratulate her, but something tells me not to. I shouldn’t have listened to my ego.

After a while, I heard she got pregnant. And this is something that’s been bothering me. I mean I’m still happy for her I know for a fact she’s gonna make a good mom but how is this fair?

Several years ago, I found out that she got pregnant by her ex. And she told me she had aborted the baby. And I told her I respect whatever decision she made and that I would always be there for her when needed. I still remember that day we cried because she was so devastated and confused by the situation but I promised her she’ll get through it. She was so guilty of what she had to do back then. But life goes on with or without the baby.

When I heard about the news that she just gave birth after a year of marriage, somehow deep inside I feel like life’s unfair. God knows my biggest dream is to become a mom. That everything I do in my life, all the hardwork, is for my unborn babies. I don’t even have a boyfriend let alone a husband. But I keep on thinking about the days I wake up to my little family and it pushes me forward to work harder just so I can be a better mom to my child, better wife to my husband yknow? How can she get it easy? She didn’t want a child back then and now she got another one? I guess this one of the hardest emotion of being a woman. The fear of not being able to conceive, to be motherless.

I do feel ashamed of what I’m feeling but I’m not blaming myself. Im just a woman who wants to experience motherhood. I love kids I want to have my own family but right now everything seems so unclear. I don’t wish anything bad to happen to her god forbids that I pray that she and her a little family is always under His care and love but I would love to have what she has yknow.

I don’t usually compare myself I don’t usually demand for materials stuffs but in this case, I do admit I’m feeling envious. And I don’t know how to make it go. I just hope one day God will let me feel how it feels like to be a mom. 🙏🏻

[quinnverse]

“Me?! You’re the one that suggested that stupid game in the first place! And you, might I add, were also the one to suggest kissing as the stakes. So, do not stand there and blame me for your ideas." She felt her face grow redder with anger as she spat out her defenses. She would've had a pleasant night alone if he hadn't wandered into the room with her, taunting her with his offers. Emma would've stuck to default disrobing, far apart from one another if he hadn't suggested kissing him instead. She nearly shook with ire. Each time she thought she might begin to tolerate him, he opened his mouth-- or pressed it to hers. "In case you’re still confused, then, you do not have any claim to me."

"The only shame I feel is having trusted you to be a lady." His words stung, but not in the way Emma expected. She ought to be happy that he seemed disgusted by her actions. It would only help to prove her unsuitable for marriage, and yet she couldn't ignore the needling sense of guilt in her stomach.

“I never claimed to be a lady." She volleyed with gritted teeth. "And if you’re so offended by my actions now, you’ll be awfully upset to learn how I’ll behave as a wife. And you have still yet to explain what kind of woman you think me to be. Because, perhaps, you do not care to admit that you don't know me as much as you think you do."

He surged on and the fire inside her doubled, nearly singeing her insides with it's flaring intensity.

“I do not want him to choose me over you! Again, not everything is a competition, you dense, fatheaded man-child! The only thing I want is for you to disappear from my life already. To leave me and my father alone." Emma stepped closer, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. She was holding herself back, using all the strength she had left to not scream and claw her way to victory. But when he stooped lower, bringing out another level of vulgarity, she snapped.

“My used—?” Without thinking, she let her hand fly to his face. The sound of her leather riding glove collided with skin made even herself wince but she stood firm. If there was ever a moment of him deserving a strike to the face, she believed this was it. “How dare you, you bloody tuft-hunter. I take back what I said about you being a pig. Pigs are far too civilized to be compared to you.”

Emma wasn't a violent person, but it would be nearly impossible to guess such a thing from the way she behaved around John Bolton. She was a fiery redhead with a temper, that much she knew, but she rarely raised a hand to anyone. But in the time she'd known him, she'd smacked him twice and thought about doing so far more.

“I... believe that makes us even now.” There was a tremor to her voice and her tone was more apologetic than she expected, as though her words were a convoluted substitute for ‘I’m sorry’.

“At the expense of your best friend." She echoed his words, letting a sour laugh fill the air. "Gods, you are a piece of work, aren’t you? Tell me, then, if you think him marrying me is a bad idea, then why in God's name would you think it would be any different if I were marrying you? Are you truly so invested in these damned business endeavors of yours that you would submit everyone to a miserable and unhappy life?"

Taking a step away from him, Emma's irate façade faltered for a moment, revealing a more scared and desperate side of her. "Have you even thought about that? About what if, God forbid, something happens to the company, if we lose all stock and all authority or go bankrupt? At the end of the day you would still be married to me. Is this foolish business excursion of yours truly worth an eternity shackled to someone you despise and who despises you in return?”

The first cuffs against his chest, shoulder and face caught Benjamin unawares. Lifting his arms, he was quick to deflect Emma's irate blows, her growls akin to a trapped animal as she bit out her fierce warning.

“What is wrong with you?" she hissed. "Jesus H. Christ, do you have no shame?”

Face stinging with both embarrassment and the clip from her earlier strike, Benjamin fired back, "I could ask you the same question. As you'll recall, the only reason we have been remotely intimate is because of you. Am I suddenly wrong in thinking I have a claim?"

He knew he didn't. As a gentleman, just pretending to mean those words coiled sickeningly within his gut, weighing low and heavy as he swallowed. Never one to back down from a ruse, he continued, "The only shame I feel is having trusted you to be a lady. Throwing yourself at my associate -- to what, make me jealous? -- proves your precise caliber, and I'll have no part in this."

Just as he anticipated, Emma bristled like a furious feline. “I can pursue whoever I damn well please. You're not my father and you're certainly not my husband. So, if Mister Finnegan likes me, I don’t need your permission to reciprocate his affections."

"No, you don't," Benjamin crisply agreed, "but Finnegan is one of my oldest and dearest friends, and thus, he would never choose you over me. I'm afraid brotherhood extends far beyond the allure of getting inside your used mutton. And that goes for both Finnegan and myself."

His words were a cruelty. Benjamin wasn't certain if he genuinely believed Emma to be morally loose, but in this moment he was tired of putting up with her theatrics -- he was tired of searching for intelligence, and only encountering the bare minimum because of her damnable interference.

Emma, unfortunately, was far from through with her diatribe. She sniped and attacked for all she was worth, relying heavily upon blaspheming swears before she ultimately volleyed, “Or do you merely mean to stick your nose into this because you’re upset it isn’t you I’m flirting with?"

"I don't give a damn who you flirt with," Benjamin hissed. "But when it is at the expense of my best friend, that is an entirely different matter! You flatter yourself if you think I care for you beyond our business transaction."

Emma balled her hand into a fist. “Our agreement was that you behave yourself. That very same agreement is the only thing stopping me from giving you a matching bruise on the other side of your stupid face. Either follow the rules of the game, or the deal is forfeit.”

Benjamin's jaw tightened. "Hit me then," he challenged. "If only I must behave myself in these terms, then I think it only suitable that you show the world precisely who you are."

Finally at her wits end, Emma rose her voice to a clanging decibel, shouting about Caleb being the superior match, and how she would gladly consider marriage, should he propose.

“I might remind you that I gave you the chance to act upon your carnal desires, but you refused. You had the chance to kiss me, touch me, ravish me, and whatever else you please, but you thought your hand far more suitable for the job, so you don’t get to choose me now that your britches have grown too tight."

Benjamin balked at that, visibly stunned. This woman was confounding. She denounced him, insulted him, and in some cases, maimed him, yet willingly threw open the doors to her boudoir?

Mouth opening and closing, he tried to speak, but Emma was already charging toward the door. "I urge you to behave yourself, or I will match your immaturity. And I will do it far better than you."

"I'd say you already have," he gruffly bit back. "You are no lady, Miss Dunster. None at all."

[lesbian-in-leather]

Okay Cinderella thoughts (in literally no logical order):

They made such a weird choice with the misogyny. Like, either you can do gender blind casting OR have a patriarchy but you can't do both like... oh look, there's female guards with the town crier and that's normal but god forbid a woman wants a career, that is - and I quote - "blasphemy"

They really thought they were doing something here and they just didn't

The gay stereotype is. Unnecessary. Like. Her "fabulous godmother"? Really?? I'm all for fairytales with gay rep but. Please god not like that it was so queerbaity and also homophobic. He wasn't even gay. He was just Gay™️ like. Why

Also they knew what they were doing when they made the start butterfly and title bi flag colours like they KNEW

Idina Menzel's song was the HIGHLIGHT and it gave me chills and also I am gay

Let's be real I only watched this film for her

However they really couldn't decide how they wanted to write the stepmother. Like, she's treating Ella as a servant? Right, a traditional take. Oh, now she's prioritising her bio daughters but still cares about Ella? An interesting take! Wait, now she's actively ruining Ella's dress and forcing her to marry a man she hates?? And also physically attacks her???? Okay so she's solidly a villain. But wait! She discovers Ella was the beautiful woman at the ball and supports her? Why would she?? And then suddenly we get her Tragic Backstory and everything she did is okay? But now she's forcing Ella back into the marriage with that guy from earlier????? Okay now she's supporting Ella with 0 on screen development. Right. That's a coherrent character. Like honestly what happened

Really liked the stepsisters tbh. It was a really good way to show them not helping Ella, but also not abusing her so we didn't want them to be punished by the narrative

I also like the Prince and his dynamic wih his friends like. Baby Byron was the best he was just really living his 2014 tumblr life

Also the fact they let him be affecyionate with his male friend like. Genuinely, just two men being friends. It was really nice to see

ALSO also the queen was an ICON. Too bad about her arsehole of a husband but I least he realised he was a dick, I guess. Though I did unironically adore that her Big Dream was to call her husband out for his bullshittery in front of the kingdom. I'm so glad she achieved

Shoutout to Queen Tatiana for just stealing the show at the ball

All in all, I did kind of enjoy it but not in the way it was intended. It was funny but also Bad and I wish it didn't take itself so seriously because it would have been a lot better

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

 There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

 “Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

 Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

 This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

 The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

 There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

 Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” –  a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it.  “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

 Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

[tenthgrove]

Hello, I just saw that you opened your request. I'm the one who ended up writing a whole prompt! Imagine this for each member from La Squadra: they had an one-night stand with a random woman, she accidentally got pregnant and decided to have the baby without telling them. After a while, the woman got ill and passed away, but not without before sending her child with their father (let's imagine she has the direction of their hideout even if it's ooc, or she knew where they hang out). So, one day someone knocks the door and introduces themselves as the kid of one of the members/if it's too young, someone left them on the door with a explainatory note... How do you think each member would react by discovering that they have a child and they're supposed to take care of them from now? You can make each kid with different ages if you want, it would be funny to see Prosciutto or Ghiaccio dealing with a rebellious teenage son or Risotto trying to take care of a toddler, but I guess not all of them would want to keep their children. Sorry if it's a lot, haha.

La Squadra did a Diavolo

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic/Familial, SFW

A/N: your idea about mixing up the ages got me thinking, and I ended up using randomisers for the children’s ages (though I did consciously change some of them) and genders. It added a fun bit of chance to this prompt.

Formaggio, with an 8 year old daughter

The whole thing feels surreal to him. There's a little girl on his doorstep calling herself his daughter and by all evidence, it's true. He doesn't really know how to feel about it at first. On one hand it's kind of cool he had a kid all this time and you're clearly a lovely girl, but on the other hand, what the fuck? Still, not being the practical sort, his sense of sentiment far outweighs any question of how he's actually going to look after a child, so without much deliberation, Formaggio agrees to let you stay.

Formaggio isn't too experienced with kids but he doesn't exactly dislike them either, so he figures he knows what to do. At your age you can at least do the basics of looking after yourself, so he isn't too worried. The only problem is that if you ask him to cook for you or help clean your room, his eyes go very wide. He never quite picked up those skills himself, he's afraid, so you're going to have to ask someone else for that one.

The good news is that Formaggio is a very easy-going, fun sort of dad, who is a natural at playing with you and lets you do what you want when he can't be around. He quickly gets used to showing affection to you, letting you cuddle up to him on the sofa in front of the squad and even carrying you around once in a while. He gives amazing piggy back rides.

The bad news (or more good news, depending on how you are) is that you have to leave school. Risotto says that at your age you can't be trusted not to tell anyone your new family is a bunch of assassins, and taking you to and from school each day would be too much of a hassle. Nonetheless, you're welcome to continue your education from home, though Formaggio will hardly push you if you don't keep up with it. Melone is much better on that front.

Despite the risk, Formaggio can't bring himself to force you to lose all your friends, so he lets you keep meeting with them. Furthermore, he knows a few guys in other squads who have kids about your age, so he's happy to introduce you to them if you want a friend you can be more honest about your home life with. Formaggio might not have a clue what he's doing, but he's doing pretty good.

Illuso, with a 3 year old daughter

He's been fearing this day would come for years. A small child knocking on the door of the hideout, holding a note in hand addressed to him, just as a shady looking car drives away. Yeah, Illuso remembers your mother pretty well and he remembers the distinct lack of precautions they took during their encounter. Now, the consequences of his actions are here at his house, and Risotto is currently standing in the doorway of the office looking ready to give him the biggest dressing-down of his life.

After his tongue-lashing, Illuso frantically agrees to take responsibility for what he's done and see to it that you're well cared for, and begins the task of looking for relatives who might take you. Unfortunately, none of your mother's family can be traced, and Illuso can't exactly call up his own right now. Leaving you on the door of an orphanage isn't an option because you're old enough to say where you've come from, so it looks like for the time being, Illuso is stuck with you.

Initially, Illuso is not thrilled. He pawns you off on Melone, Sorbet and Gelato whenever possible and tries to live his life as before. But increasingly, he can't help finding himself visiting your room whenever he's stressed or has had a bad mission. There's something so pure about gently stroking your hair as you sleep. He can't help but feel... attachment, as he rubs his thumb against your tiny palm.

From then on, Illuso starts to make a point of spending more time with you. You're at the age where you just want to touch and explore everything you're given, so letting you make a mess with his makeup and beauty creams is an easy way for him to observe and learn about you. He even starts doing the more practical things like washing and feeding you every so often.

Eventually, Illuso becomes an actual father to you. He loves you as a father should and puts his time into making you happy. Illuso is glad he didn't give you away, as you've opened his eyes to so many things. For the first time in many years, he feels human. He feels redeemable.

Prosciutto, with a 13 year old son

As you tell him your story Prosciutto racks his brains. He didn't have many one-night-stands in his youth but the ones he did have were so far back he barely remembers them, so your mother's name doesn't immediately ring any bells. If it weren't for the striking resemblance between you, Prosciutto probably would have thrown you out for a liar there and then. But as you are, it's clear you're being honest. He lets you in.

After a short interrogation by Risotto to make certain you aren't acting on behalf of some third party looking to infiltrate the squad, it's agreed you can stay, so long as you keep quiet about it to your friends. At your age you can largely look after yourself and all you really needed was a roof over your head, so there's no problem with you moving into the spare room as long as you stay out of the others' way.

Education isn't much of an issue either, since you're likely well settled in your current school and can get yourself there and back. Just whatever you do, don't go telling anyone you live with a bunch of gangsters now. Prosciutto means it, you could seriously put yourself in danger if you do that.

Much to your father's ire, you end up befriending several members of the squad, especially the younger ones like Melone, Ghiaccio and Pesci who have some generational overlap with how you were raised. Prosciutto would rather you didn't do this but at the end of the day, he can't really stop you. God forbid you call him an old boomer again.

Your relationship is overall positive- Prosciutto makes a point of taking you on outings when he has the time, and giving you parental advice when you need it. However that doesn't stop you from making fun of his stuffy, old habits, and playing the moral high ground in regards to his work.

On that note, the problem comes when you develop an interest in the squad's work. It's only inevitable, given how pervasive the topic is in conversations around the house, and the fact you're more than old enough to know what a gang is, but the day you first ask him about it is no less welcome. What's scary is that you're about the same age as Passione's youngest recruits and, well, if you ended up joining them because of him, Prosciutto might never forgive himself.

Pesci, with a 6 month old son

He knew it had been a mistake. Not long after his 18th birthday he'd given in to the squad's pestering about his virginity and finally gotten rid of it just to shut them up. Now he's ridden with guilt. Not only did the poor woman get pregnant because of him but now she's died. He can't help but wonder, the letter attached to the basket you came in was very vague after all, was your mother's death at all related to your birth? If so, Pesci doesn't know how he'll forgive himself.

Pesci immediately panics and stumbles into his Fra's bedroom crying louder than you are. Prosciutto remains calm, advising him to first make sure this actually is his baby through Melone, in case this is somebody trying to trick him, and to then think through his options rationally. As far as Prosciutto sees it, he has two. He can either see to it that you're taken in by a caring, reliable individual, or he can keep you for himself. Surprisingly, Prosciutto's actually okay with the second one, since in his eyes duty to one's family is absolute.

Pesci stammers a bit and asks if he can wait a few days to make his mind up, which Prosciutto permits. But it isn't long at all until Pesci is far too attached to you to ever let you go, and it becomes clear you'll be staying for the long-run. Risotto is hardly happy about this but agrees with Prosciutto's sentiment of family, so he doesn't try to insist you be sent away.

Pesci is an incredibly loving father. He'll dash from the other side of the house at a moment's notice if he hears you crying. That said, being so young himself it's inevitable he requires some help with raising you. Sorbet and Gelato chip in quite regularly, as does Melone when Pesci is desperate enough to fall on using him. Prosciutto helps out too, being your uncle, and occasionally you've even had Risotto answer your cries.

La Squadra can only hope their situation improves somehow in the coming years, since Pesci has no idea how he's going to deal with an older child in a house full of assassins. At very least, being so young it's a long time before he has to worry about things like school. For now, what's important is that you are loved very dearly. Pesci has discovered a new protective streak in himself, something he discovers every time he looks in your eyes.

Melone, with a 4 year old son

When you arrived you were frightened and confused. You struggled to babble out the story you were told to tell as the strange men crowded around you in the front room of the house. Then, a bizarre looking man with purple hair pushed to the front of the crowd, insisting he knew what to do in a situation like this. He carried you somewhere quiet, and gently asked you to repeat your story again. You told him you were looking for your father, Melone.

Melone is elated. He's always wanted a child, but getting into a relationship stable enough to produce one has never been an option with the life he lives. Now the happy accident he never new he had has come home to him! Carrying you back to the living room, Melone introduces you as his son and announces to the team that he will be keeping you.

This is met with some protest. Not only are you of the age where you'll need constant supervision, but quite frankly, nobody trusts Melone to take care of a kid. Melone refutes their accusations harshly, making it absolutely clear he will not be giving you up without a fight. Finally, Risotto surrenders, on the terms that if he catches any signs of abuse or neglect, he will see to it personally that you are re-homed elsewhere.

Melone's parenting style is relatively laid-back. He believes parents should be a 'safe base' from which children should explore the world, coming back when they need advice but ultimately following their own whims within reason. He encourages you to play as you wish and does not stop you from bonding with the rest of the squad. Finding supervision for you while he's on missions proves to be a non-issue, since his stand's massive range means he can often do most of a mission's work at home.

When the time comes to educate you, Melone decides against the risks of enrolling you in school. He is an amazing teacher and can teach you everything you'd need in half the hours of a typical curriculum. Beyond the essentials of literacy and simple maths, Melone largely encourages you to follow you own interests rather than stick to some boring, arbitrary list of useless things a normal curriculum for some reason expects you to learn.

That said, he knows the importance of making friends, so he frequently takes you out to meet with neighbourhood children. All-in-all, the squad is surprised at his sensible parenting choices, and the happy child you are turning out to be.

Ghiaccio, with a 2 year old son

It's almost comedic the lengths Ghiaccio goes to to avoid the problem. As the others crowd around you in Melone's lap, Ghiaccio cowers in the corner insisting that you absolutely cannot be his. It's very obvious you are, of course. You look almost exactly like him, and have a cry to match. You've even inherited the same, mild visual impairments that earned him his glasses. There's no getting away from the truth.

After accepting the truth, Ghiaccio takes you away to his room to 'clear his head' before deciding where to send you in the morning, but when morning comes, that deliberation time quickly turns into a few more days, then a month, then never. It's clear Ghiaccio's become attached to you, and he cannot bring himself to give you away.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have the foggiest clue in hell how to look after a toddler. He has a hard enough time understanding what it is adults want from him, let alone small children. There are times he even considers giving you away again, but they never last long enough for him to go through with it. Bit by bit, he slowly learns how to be a father.

Melone is his primary co-parent. As cautious as Ghiaccio is about letting him around his baby, it soon becomes clear Melone can understand your needs far better than he can. The pair have many sessions together teaching Ghiaccio how to do things like wash you or cook your food. It's honestly a massive help, and probably the main reason Ghiaccio doesn't completely melt down within a month of having you.

These issues aside, Ghiaccio is a person who is very genuine in his affections. He would break the shins of anyone who even looked at you threateningly, and every fibre of his being wants you to be happy. He even learns to control his temper, as he knows from experience just how damaging an angry parent can be for a child. He's going to give you a better childhood than what his parents gave him, and that's a promise.

Risotto, with a 6 year old daughter

Well, perhaps this ought to have been expected. In his early 20s Risotto was really far less careful than he ought to be in regards to his encounters, so he probably had this coming. You are at a difficult age, old enough to understand your father is a criminal but young enough to still need his care. If he takes you in, there will be many challenges. And yet he cannot bring himself to turn you away. Looking at you he feels... obligation.

In the early days he tries his best to shelter you. He keeps you in his room and tells the others not to talk to you. But that's no way for you to live, and he knows it. Eventually, he swallows his fears and lets you explore your new home, even taking you out to the park a few minutes each day so you can run around. He talks to Melone about continuing your education, and asks Sorbet and Gelato if they'd let the spare room next to them be turned into a bedroom for you. He's going to make sure he raises you right.

Risotto may be quiet and introverted, but do not mistake that for emotionally distant. He does not underestimate his vital role in your emotional well-being, and is quick to pick up on when you are feeling sad or lonely. He makes sure to pick you up in his arms and ask what's wrong when that happens.

Though he didn't know her well, he mourns your mother with you, and is very watchful for the signs of attachment issues that may result from losing a parent at such a tender age. Being all you have left, Risotto gains a new instinct of self-preservation. For the first time in years, his life has meaning.

In terms of bonding, he prefers calm activities that allow him to passively observe your interests, such as watching movies or reading you books. When he's working in his office and doesn't need his camera on, he's happy for you to sit in his lap as long as you're quiet. He would ask if you don't read what's on his screen, though, at least not while you're so young. He'll give you a better explanation of what he's doing some day, but not just yet.

Sorbet and Gelato, with a 12 year old daughter

First of all, let's make clear that regardless of which one is biologically your father, they both feel equal responsibility for you. No doubt they were both present for your conception anyway, so as far as they're concerned, if one of them has a secret kid from a hookup, they both have a secret kid from a hookup.

Having always wanted children, they are happy when you appear on the doorstep and introduce yourself as their daughter. Though they don't say it out loud to avoid upsetting you, they kind of wish your mum had kicked it sooner so they could have raised you from a younger age, but they're more than happy to make do with what they've got. There's no hesitation in welcoming you to live with them permanently, and anyone who has a problem with this isn't brave enough to say it.

Right from the get-go they are very permitting parents, awarding you a generous helping of their cash each week and having a rule list that pretty much starts and ends with "don't talk to the police." Despite your age they don't expect you to be independent, and are happy to cook for you and help you out with other things when you ask. It seems parenthood was made for them.

Despite all this, there is one problem in your relationship that is making things difficult. That of your fathers' work. You're 12 years old and you aren't stupid. You know they kill for a living and you know they enjoy it. When you stumble into the bathroom at 1am to find them covered in blood and laughing together, there's no making excuses. No matter how good they are with you, this is going to make you afraid of them.

Sorbet and Gelato are incredibly stringent in solving these early issues. After all these years they've finally got the family they wanted, and they aren't going to let it slip away from their own cruelty. They are honest with you about their occupation, since they want you to know you can trust them, and make absolutely clear it won't affect their care for you. You are welcome to ask questions and receive honest answers, but other than that Sorbet and Gelato will make a point of not accidentally causing you to witness something you shouldn't.

With them, you are welcome to continue your old life in terms of school and friends. They want to spend time with you, but they don't want to overtake your existence completely. When you are up for it, they are keen to take you on outings that interest you so you can spend time together as a family. They hope you know how happy you make them.

[deathwishy]

x MARVEL CROSSOVER x

Marinette knew that Tom Dupain wasn't her biological father. Nonetheless, she loved him and he loved her. He married her mother when she was two and have been inseparable ever since.

On the other side, her biological father was a prick.

He first came to visit her after she developed a ... rather interesting set of abilities. She was five when that happened. Her mother had somehow contacted him and, even though he doubted it, he came.

It is safe to say that he was beyond shocked when he saw that Marinette was his spitting image, not counting the blue eyes. She had a mischievous smile and sharp eyes, carrying herself like royalty, worthy of the title of the daughter of the god of mischief.

That day, Loki found out he had a demigoddess daughter.

While he was reluctant at first, the little girl grew on him. He visited at least twice a month, mainly to help her control her powers but also to let her know that he actually cared about her, to ensure that he wasn't with her like his father was with him. No other Asgardian knew about Marinette and he would like to keep it that way. There was no need for his brother of father to swoop in and ruin everything.

As the years passed their bond became unbreakable. Marinette still thought that Loki was a prick and an idiot at times but she wouldn't have it any other way. Life was boring anyway, why not sprinkle it with a little bit of mischief?

When she became Ladybug, he knew. He called out Tikki as soon as he stepped in her room and her parents were out of hearing range.

"Tikki, you can come out. You should know better by now."

Marinette was dumbfounded when the goddess came out from behind some books, with a pout and with her arms crossed.

"I knew it. Trixx did say that you came to Midgard and Marinette looks like a miniature female version of yourself."

"I'm actually surprised the guardian gave her the Ladybug miraculous. I would've guessed she would have been a better fox."

"She is a very good match for me too. Her soul is a creative one, but yes, she would be a perfect fox."

"Um... Can I get in the loop too?"

The two gods turned to her. Marinette had her arms crossed, tapping her foot on the floor. Loki gave her a sheepish smile.

"I am a God, Marigold, I do know the other gods too."

The day passed talking with the two deities about all sorts of things, Tikki especially scolding him for the New York disaster, Marinette joining her. It happened before she was born so even if he changed it was still a horrible thing

"Look, daddy issues are a pain to deal with. I was very angry."

"Dad, it's no excuse to be an asshole."

"I know." Loki rolled his eyes then grinned. "But what's this I'm hearing about from Tikki about a boy?"

Marinette flushed, glaring at the offender, now munching on a cookie, her eyes sparkling with laughter. She was shaking her head and vigorously gesturing with her hands.

"Nope. I'm not talking with you about this and, Odin forbid, if I see you around him I'll cut your macaron supply."

Loki only raised his hands in surrender, laughing heartedly. He wouldn't dare cross his daughter, so he swore, between tears of laughter, that he would keep his distance.

"But if he breaks your heart I'll throw him in Jotunheim."

                                                         ...

A few years later, when Lila came around he knew. There was no mistaking the dimming of the fire in her soul. He could see that she didn't want to talk about it by the way she was dodging the subject so he had to take the matter in his own hands.

He shapeshifted into a horsefly and flew after her when she went to school. It took a lot of his power to hide from Marinette's sight but if was worth it. Now he knew why she started closing in on herself.

Loki could admire a good lie. After all he was the god of trickery, lies and deceit. But this girl spouting off the worst lies he ever heard. Not only were they ridiculous, they were also completely devoid of any drop of truth. That was the base of any good lie, and she was lacking it entirely. What confused him more what that some of her classmates believed her. Only a handful others didn't seem to believe her, one of which was a blond boy that looked at the leech, glued to his hand, with disgust. By his aura Loki assumed he was the holder of the Black Cat.

He confronted Marinette when she came back from school. Some of the lies were concerning, they were hurting his daughter and he couldn't let it fly. He assumed the harpy was set on Marinette because she wouldn't buy her lies. That was not surprising, she could see even though his best lies.

"I know, Marigold."

Marinette knew what he meant. She inhaled deeply and looked around.

"Can we go somewhere else, outside of Paris?"

The furrowed his brows, getting more concerned by the second. He couldn't read her in that moment. He could read most people like an open book, but that was his daughter. She knew how to hide things from him.

"Yes. Tell your parents, we don't want to concern them."

After she told her parents that she would go with Loki on a short trip, he opened a portal to a high rooftop over a city. She could feel the darkness of it, potent and corrupting. She figured that was why her father would bring her there, no one would notice them. As soon as the portal closed, she broke down. She hugged him, crying into his chest.

"I'm so tired, dad. The responsibility of Ladybug, Lila and her lies, half of my class turned against me, Hawkmoth just sending out akuma after akuma, it's just so much."

He let her cry, hugging her closely and patting her head. Even after all these years he didn't know how to properly comfort his daughter but it was something he actively was working for.

"But I assume you still don't want me to help?"

"The Avengers or The Justice League would notice if you do something. I managed to keep them away, for the time being, but I doubt they would hesitate coming if they heard that you came into a highschool, knives flying after a teenage girl or if you burnt down half of Paris searching for Hawkmoth."

She sighed, sitting on the edge of roof.

"I can handle it, I think. It's hard but I can manage it. I have Chat Noir and the others, we will succeed."

"You know that I will always be by your side if you need me, right?"

"Of course, dad." She hugged him once more, not letting go for some time.

When she calmed down, she asked him to get them to Paris.

"Dad, where was that? I've never felt a more malicious feeling to a place in my entire life."

"Gotham City. That place holds a centuries long curse."

Marinette nodded then hugged her father one more time before he left. She then went on her balcony, sketchbook and laptop in her hands. The afternoon sun was providing perfect lighting for sketching. She set aside the sketchbook for the moment, opening the laptop. She heard about Gotham from Alya when she was gushing about the vigilantes. She wasn't especially interested about them so she listened politely but forgot everything the next day.

Gotham was dubbed the Crime Capital, which was not surprising. The maliciousness surrounding the city was overwhelming, even if she was there for only a few minutes short of an hour. She could only imagine what that could do to the locals. A meeting with Fu after her patrol that night was mandatory.

Apparently he knew about the situation in Gotham. An old friend kept him updated. He confessed that he wanted to talk with her about it but decided to tell her when she was prepared. Fighting that kind of corruption would be hard and it would take years. They decided to put a pin in it and deal with it after they defeated Hawkmoth. Marinette did NOT need this on her plate now.

                                                          ...

Things got a little complicated when Wonder Woman decided to drop by. It was night, just a few hours after an akuma attack. Ladybug had to patrol on her own, Chat Noir was held back in his civilian life. She caught Ladybug on the Eiffel Tower, just when she was finishing her round.

"Ladybug."

"Wonder Woman. I wasn't aware that you would be coming by."

"I apologize, but this is important. Your presence is required at a summit between The Avengers and The Justice League. Some discussions will be about the situation in Paris and as the city is in your jurisdiction, you are invited to attend."

Marinette felt like she didn't tell the whole truth but agreed, under the condition to bring Chat Noir too. They were a team.

Loki wanted to come along but Marinette shot the idea down quickly. The was a chance that Thor would notice and everything would go south very quickly. She didn't need an international incident on her hands. The others didn't trust Loki but they were civil with each other after the brothers made amends and he helped them a couple of times. Still, she didn't think they would appreciate Marinette bringing an unauthorized guest.

                                                           ...

A few weeks later they were in a secret base in the Alps. After she got the coordinates of the location she used the horse miraculous to get there. They were fairly early, only a few members of both teams being present. Batman with his team, Thor, Wonder Woman, Black Widow, Winter Soldier and Green Arrow.

Batman was the first one to greet her, soon after she closed the portal.

"Tikki, Kaalki, divide."

The horse kwami landed in her hand, where a sugar cube was waiting for her. She then nestled on top of her head. She slid the glasses there too, for easy access, just in case.

"Ladybug, glad you could come." Batman greeted her cordially. She shook his outstretched hand.

"Of course. After all, I was said this was concerning us."

Before Batman could say anything, a man dressed in black, with a blue bird symbol on his chest jumped in front of her, grinning like a child.

"I can't believe it, you are a real magical girl!"

Ladybug took a step back, blinking, a little shocked by the grown man's reaction.

"Tt. Nightwing, be professional."

"Yeah Wingman, you're going to scare the little Pixie."

"Ignore them, they are idiots." Said one of them, coming beside her. She identified him as Red Robin, one of Batman's... Associates? It felt wrong to call him a sidekick. That would be Robin.

"Red Robin. The idiots there are Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin."

"Pleasure meeting you." She smiled to them warmly. Robin narrowed his eyes, looking at her head.

"What is that?" He asked, taking a step closer to take a better look. Kaalki flew in his face, indignated.

"I'm a goddess, you oaf." Robin took a step back, hands on his katana, shocked by the little goddesses reaction. She narrowed her eyes, suddenly tamer. "Are you famous?" Robin was sputtering, clearly not prepared for the change in her demeanor.

Red Hood burst out laughing.

"Fucking hell, his face. I've never been more grateful for the camera in my helmet."

"Kwami don't show up on camera, but his face definitely will." Chat Noir pointed out. He went beside Ladybug, up until then scanning the compound. "I'm Chat Noir, the fabulous purr-tner of Ladybug, at your service." He made a mock bow, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Ladybug, Red Robin, Red Hood and Robin groaned.

"Not ANOTHER ONE!"

"Tt. I can't handle two of them. I'll inevitably going to break the no killing rule."

"Um, what's going on?" Ladybug turned to Red Robin, who was grimacing.

"Nightwing." He said, giving her a pitying look.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that claw-ful." Retorted Nightwing. Chat Noir lit up like a Christmas tree.

"My lady, see. I was sure I was feline a fellow paw-nner nearby."

"Kill me." Ladybug and Red Robin said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

As more heroes were arriving, Ladybug introduced herself to each of them. She tensed a bit when Thor came beaming at her.

"Ah! I haven't seen the miraculous for centuries! I am not really that familiar with the Chinese Miracle Box but I did encounter a wielder of Trixx."

She smiled tightly listening to his encounter with Fylja. She knows from her father about her, a trickster just like him, who managed to seduce Thor and steal Mjolnir and hide it. Thor decided to omit that detail. He liked the young hero but something seemed oddly familiar about her.

When Aquaman came, he looked very uncomfortable with his proximity to Chat Noir. He was cordial but kept his distance after finishing introductions. Chat Noir did tell her once that Plagg said that he was the one who sank Atlantis. It was a real story, apparently.

Ladybug preferred the company of Red Robin. They had a lot of things in common, from mutual interests to similar experiences as heroes. He asked a lot of questions without being invasive or trying to find out things about her civilian life and actually seemed interested about her answers. She actually blushed when Nightwing called them cute. She could see with the corner of her eyes how Chat Noir was wiggling his eyebrows but swooped up the other boys when they started teasing them.

"Everyone is here. Only the official members of the Justice League and the Avengers are allowed, as well as Ladybug and Chat Noir. The rest will stay here." Wonder Woman announced, leaving the rest of the young heroes pouting and protesting.

Ladybug turned to Red Robin and gave him a wave.

"See you after."

"Definitely." He grinned, making her blush.

Chat Noir came beside her, smiling knowingly.

"At least you're not a stuttering mess this time."

"Shut up you alley cat, that was four years ago."

"So you do like him." He smiled even wider. Ladybug blushed furiously, punching him in the ribs. He only giggled.

"Nightwing and Red Hood owe me 50 dollars."

"You're unbelievable."

All the heroes were seated at a circular table, everyone having an assigned seat. Even Ladybug and Chat Noir, their symbols gleaming brand new on the backs of the black chairs.

"The summit begins. We are now gathered here to discuss the Paris situation." Superman began, opening a slide on the projector.

Ladybug narrowed her eyes. It became obvious that they called the summit just for this. They were trying to take control. She clenched her fists, but didn't say anything. She hoped this wasn't what it looked like. She put her hand on Chat Noir's shoulder when he looked like he wanted to say something. She squeezed twice. ' I got this.'

"Ladybug, Chat Noir, it's been four and a half years since Hawkmoth has been active and so far we haven't seen much progress. The akumas seem to become more powerful and aggressive and the damage to Paris greater each time. We think you might be over your heads."

"What we are trying to say," Batman stood up, glaring at Superman for his lack of tact, "is that the situation is becoming increasingly difficult and we feel the need to intervene. We know that you are young, let us help you."

"You are kids, we can tell. We thought that because of the nature of the miraculous you will be able to neutralize the threat in due time, seeing as it's the same type of magic." Added Captain America.

"We trusted that you could handle it, as you said, but some of us already have doubts." Iron Man said, crossing his arms.

"Your miraculous might not be enough this time. But that's ok. We want this to end as much as you do." Professor Banner added, looking at them like he was explaining to children why they couldn't cross the street when the traffic light was red.

Most of the heroes didn't notice the way the two young heroes narrowed their eyes, faces darkening, but some, mostly those who knew the power of the miraculous, did. Aquaman was uneasy, a sense of foreboding dawning over him, Wonder Woman looked like she didn't know what her peers were going to say. She stood still, but tense, like preparing for an attack. She knew they were somewhat right, but that wasn't the way to help them. Green Lantern was leaning in his seat like he wanted it to eat him. Thor looked around the table, damning every one of them present. They were going to get them killed. Black Widow was glaring at Banner, knowing what his words did to the Parisians by their increasing straining to say nothing and stay in place. Batman was following them carefully. Something about the two of them screamed danger.

Then Superman dropped the bomb.

"So, effective immediately, we take jurisdiction of the city of..."

He was cut off by a sudden boom reverberating through the room. All heroes jumped in a battle stance. When there was no threat in sight, they looked at Ladybug, who had made a dent in the table with her fist. Her eyes were entirely blue. But it was not her usual color, it was an icy blue, that could freeze the fires of hell. Thor held his breath. They looked exactly like frost giant eyes. And familiar ones.

"How. Dare. You."

She didn't yell but the heroes could feel the ice in their veins.

"For four years we've been tirelessly fighting an emotional prying bastard, while controlling our own to the point where it seems that we have none, handling our civilian lives at the same time, trying to minimize the destruction of Paris even though we new the cure with bring everything back to normal, tending to our citizens after they've been akumatized, ensuring they would get therapy and support, even stopping minor crimes around the city and you have the balls to say that we are in over our heads?! We may be but we are handling it way better than any of you do! You are not one to speak, Superman. Metropolis gets trashed every other week with you're messy fights, and there is no cure. You obviously have no regard of the destruction or the victims most of the time. The rest of you are mostly the same. But there is no one getting in your way saying that you're doing a horrible job and trying to replace you. And if there is, gods forbid, you just send them to prison or in a mental asylum. You have NO right to criticize our ways when yours are statistically worse!"

Both the Justice League and the Avengers were silent and wide eyed. Thor was the first to recover. Her eyes went back to normal after she finished but there was no mistake. The girl wasn't human.

"Who are you?" He pointed his hammer at Ladybug. She rolled her eyes.

"Put that down, you're not intimidating anyone."

"Those were frost giant eyes. Answer me or perish."

"Dad would not appreciate the perish part, you know."

The Avengers and the Leaguers were now exchanging confused looks. What were they supposed to do? What was that about? After exchanging glances, they remained silent, watching the exchange curiously.

"What are you talking about?" Thor retorted, now gripping Mjolnir tighter.

"I guess this is as a bad time as any but... Hello uncle."

It wasn't ideal but she couldn't have both the Justice League and the Avengers trying to arrest her. She took the yo-yo from her hip and slid it open. She scrolled through her contacts and tapped the one named 'The God of Bullshit'. After a few beeps, during which the heroes were recovering from their stupor, Loki's face appeared on the screen.

"Daughter dearest. What's the matter, are the others bothering you?" He said in a sarcastic sweet voice. She rolled her eyes then pointed the screen towards Thor.

"L'Oréal blond knows."

After a few seconds Loki starts laughing like a maniac.

"This is the best way they could've found out. This is PERFECT."

Thor walks in wide strides to an unimpressed Ladybug and takes the yo-yo from her hand.

"I have a niece and you didn't TELL ME!"

"Of course not. You pieces of shit are not worthy of the presence of my daughter. I don't know why she even agreed to come to the meeting. She is doing a wonderful job in Paris and does not need any interference. Beware, brother, if you upset her I'll come for your heads. I have to go now, see you soon, daughter."

Ladybug closed her yo-yo and looked around the room.

"I don't care what you decided. Paris is my city. You don't come barging just because you think you can do a better job. And yes, I'm the daughter of Loki but that doesn't mean that I have bad intentions. I'm a hero as much as you are. Now, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Ladybug." Wonder Woman was the first to respond. Even if she was a daughter of Loki, the young hero earned her respect. She stood her ground against them and made her point crystal clear.

The rest of the heroes agree, though some reluctantly.

"Now, I agreed to come here mainly because I wanted to say that I have a strong lead. Hawkmoth may soon fall."

After some other arguments with some of the reluctant heroes and a few protests that were quickly shot down by Ladybug and her supporters, the heroes dispersed. She and Chat Noir were between the last ones to leave, having a shushed conversation while the others left.

"We will discuss it back in Paris. But yes, it's true."

"So you're a half goddess?"

"Demigoddess, but yes."

"That is awesome."

When they entered the hall, they saw it was almost empty. She was disappointed that maybe Red Robin left until he was in front of her. He gripped her shoulders and looked in her eyes.

"I think I'm in love with you. That was the greatest hero smack down in history."

She was a blushing mess by the time the other boys and Batman came around. They were all snickering, even Batman and Robin.

"How did you..."

"Father turned his com on when he saw that you looked like you were ready to kill someone."

"B, you are not allowed to adopt her under any circumstances, do you understand me? We do not need another sister."

"Yeah Bats, don't ruin your only chance at grandkids."

Now Red Robin was blushing too.

"So... You don't care about the Loki thing?"

"We noticed that he toned down a few years ago. We didn't know why. Now it makes sense."

"Yeah, trust me, you're not the only one with a villainous parent 'round here." Red Rood pointed, putting his elbow on Robin's shoulder. The latter looked like he wanted to rip it off.

"And you are clearly taking your job seriously. Even father respects your efforts."

"I didn't intend to make you feel like you are not good enough. We wanted to help you, but it got out of hand. I apologize."

"Apology accepted. I understand where you're coming from, but trust me. This is coming to an end. Soon."

When the Bats were going to the zeta tubes and Ladybug was merging the horse miraculous with her own, Red Robin stayed behind. He handed her a phone.

"It's a non traceable phone. Of you ever want to talk, my number is programmed in there. I really enjoyed our conversation"

She took the phone, smiling brightly.

"I did too. Thank you."

She pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back, kissing her on the cheek then running to the zeta tubes. Her cheeks were as red as her suit. She touched the place where he kissed her, smiling like an idiot.

"Aww, I'm going to die of fluff. I ship it."

"Shut up." She grumbled but still smiling.

                                                           ...

A few months later Hawkmoth’s reign of terror came to an end. It was messy and heartbreaking but they were finally free. Adrien was exonerated by both the Justice League and the Avengers when accusations started to appear in the media. Not wanting to live with the Graham de Vanily’s, Adrien was taken in by Selina Kyle a.k.a Catwoman. It was quite fitting.

They have revealed their identities during the battle when they had to recharge and barely found one place to detransform. When they had the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous secured and Gabriel and Nathalie in police custody, they swung to the Eiffel Tower and collapsed there on each other, crying their hearts out for the first time in five years. Loki got there at some point but he kept his distance, understanding that it was their time. That was how they were found by the Justice League and the Avengers. Huddled together on the railing, not talking, with Loki next to them, smiling serenely. Thor almost had a heart attack. When she noticed that Red Robin came too, she ran to him and kissed him like the world almost ended, which almost actually did.

Fu passed guardianship to Marinette not long after, deeming her ready.

After everything was solved in Paris and the trials of Gabriel, Nathalie and Lila, for her aiding Hawkmoth, were done, Marinette began her first mission as Guardian. Cleanse Gotham.

Soon, a new vigilante, with a black fox theme, swung through Gotham with the Bats and Tim Drake appeared in public with his new girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

When I first saw what the prompt for today was I had no idea what to write. I didn’t want to do the class trip to New York so I took my favorite character, Loki obviously, and brainstormed. This came out. I don’t know if this has been done before but I love biodad!Loki.

So this is approximately 4326 words (I added and edited things on here so I don't know for sure) which is a new record. I did enjoy writing this. Maybe I will do something biodad!Loki again in the future, it's fun to write.

And as a sidenote, Marinette can lift Mjolnir.

@timari-month-event​

[fw00shy]

The Kneazle

This is the a woman breaks up with a man, and the man grabs their kneazle and runs scene from my 10:47 am microfic. Hermione tries to break up with Ron; she and Draco have a chat about mistakes.

Hermione brings Crookshanks with her to the cafe when she breaks up with Ron. The kneazle is under disillusionment, of course — Hermione picked a Muggle part of town, far away from their flat, and she isn't stupid like Ron. You'd think dating your childhood best friend would mean near-telepathic communication by twenty-two, not weeks-long sieges of shoulders turned away stubbornly in bed.

Enough is enough.

Ron's hair is uncombed. His stubble is two days old, though his jumper is newly knit from the week he spent at his mum's. The skin under his eyes is purplish, bruise-like when he squints. Hermione sits across from him and pets and pets and pets, her eyes filling with dread at what comes next.

Ron bangs his teaspoon. "Stop doing that," he says. "You look bloody maniacal, petting your purse like that."

"I want to break up."

Hermione's words come out in a heaving sob, the disillusionment cracking with her concentration, her grip tightening painfully over fur.

Crookshanks springs onto the table in an angry yowl. Hermione meets Ron's eyes over the kneazle's gnarled orange head and sees Ron's lips thin in fury.

"I can't believe you brought a kneazle out in Muggle London," he yells. "You know she can escape —"

"Like you care a rat’s arse what happens to her. You never liked her. You never like anything I —"

"She's my kneazle as much as yours!"

"No, she's not! When do you ever —"

"When you're at the Ministry working till three-am like you are every bloody night. Who the fuck do you think feeds her then? You think food magically —"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

Ron parts his mouth in a silent scream. Then he grabs Crookshanks and runs. Hermione is so stunned that she just stares and stares and stares until Draco finds her, and invites her over.

Turns out, he lives across the street.

.

Draco pushes a plate of biscuits in front of Hermione.

"Chocolate. Nice," Hermione says. She lifts one to her mouth and bites the Malfoy crest neatly in half. The sweetness spreads across her chest to her hands. She wriggles her fingertips.

Hermione finishes the biscuit. "Did you infuse these with Pepper-Up?"

"Something like that," Draco says. "Drink the tea, too."

Hermione takes a sip and sighs. She’s so upset that she doesn’t even care if Draco’s poisoned her.

Draco glances at something just behind Hermione. Hermione turns and sees a wall clock. She flushes. "Sorry, you're expecting —"

"No, no. Please... please stay. It's not often that I have company."

They aren't friends. But they could be, with time.

Hermione shivers. Eat another biscuit. Stares, stares, stares...

Draco's kitchen is very nice. Adult. Lots of scrubbed-white subway tiles; navy blue cabinets with brass fixtures. Everything is put in place, except for the refrigerator, which has a whole album's worth of photos stuck on it in every which way.

Draco moves to block her view, but Hermione's already out of her stool and walking toward the photos for a closer look. And of course, there it is: evidence of a secret she's long suspected since Harry started begging off dinners to “go home and relax".

"Good job," Hermione says. "You won the lotto on this one."

Draco laughs. "I absolutely did."

"You’re so different. I can't imagine it's easy."

"Oh, never. Bickering all day and night. Broke up a few times, even. Though we always got back together."

"Really?”

Draco taps his fingers against the counter. "You may not be familiar with the concept, but you don't have to get everything right in one go. It's okay to make mistakes."

"I make mistakes.”

"Sure," Draco laughs. "But not like me. Last time, we broke up over a toilet paper roll. Couldn't take a shit without him nagging on about how I never replace it."

"Of course you wouldn't," Hermione snorts. "God forbid you sully your hands with house-elf work."

"You have no idea. Harry makes us do No-Magic Mondays. And he's as bad as I am on it, honest. Last week, he had us bake a quiche, but we don't own a single measuring cup. Or a baking dish. And he wrote down the temperature in Fahrenheit, thinking it was Celsius, so you can guess how well that went."

"How well?"

"Fire trucks. Are all Muggle firemen incredibly fit? And did you know that they have a calendar?"

Hermione laughs until she's crying again.

She wipes her eyes. "I guess I should say that I broke up with Ron."

Draco snorts. "The whole block knows that, Granger." He casts his gaze out the window before turning to look Hermione straight in the eye. "But do you?"

Does she?

She really only said that she wanted to break up, not that they were.

Hermione hugs herself, wishing it were Ron's arms instead of her own. Maybe she made a mistake.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝑭𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓

Warnings: Some suggestive scenes are contained here.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

"Baby....no."

Hongjoong placed a hand in front of his face in an attempt to stop you from kissing him. Prying your hands off his neck, he tried to get you off his lap, but you only whined and clung harder onto him. Hongjoong wasn't very amused.

"Honey this has got to stop sooner or later."

You pouted as you grinded on his lap.

"Joongie.....don't you wanna make a baby with me?"

Hongjoong bit back the moan that got caught in his throat as his hands gripped your hips to keep you from moving.

"Baby stop. I'm not going to give in anytime soon."

"Oh. So you're willing to make Seonghwa a baby but not me?" You huffed and got off his lap, arms crossed as you angrily slumped down on the couch.

Hongjoong sighed as he turned his chair to you. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he silently prayed for help to deal with you.

"Babycakes, you know I love you and I'd adore to see you carry my child.."

Your eyes lit up at his comment.

"But we're too young right now to think about that. Let's wait a few years ok?"

Standing up, he sat down next to you before brushing his nose across your neck. Chuckling lowly, he whispered in your ear:

"And then I promise you, I'll fuck as many babies as you want into you."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa had annoyed you so much with his baby fever that the unthinkable happened:

You yourself caught it. Now you were watching baby videos and reading all about taking care of a baby, even bought a baby book name that surprised even Seonghwa when he found it in your bag.

"Babe? What's this?" He asked as he held the book up.

Walking shyly to him, you startled him by wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your nose against his.

"You win. I want to make a baby with you."

Seonghwa had to hold onto you because he nearly fell down.

"Wait....are you serious? Don't play with me. "

He became ecstatic that you finally gave in. Wasting no time, he hoisted you up and carried you to his room, eager to get started right away. Unfortunately for the both of you, Hongjoong came back early and walked in on you two.

"Ahhhh!"

He screamed as he dashed out of there, covering his eyes and bumping into Jongho who had just came back.

"Oh? I take it Seonghwa Hyung and Y/N are still making a baby? Ok. I'll just leave again."

"They're trying to what?!" Hongjoong marched back into his room, closing the door behind him.

"Well first time Seonghwa is gonna get scolded in Hongjoong's room." Jongho sipped his juice and decided to stay to see how it would unfold.

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yunho didn't know how much more he could take before he snapped. You kept begging him and pestering him with baby related things, and he of course adored kids. But one of you had to be the responsible one and remind the other that you were both too young for kids.

"Kitten, you know as much as I'd love to see you walking around with a swollen belly full of my kids, you know we can't."

You pouted at him and he couldn't help but pout back at you.

"Kitten please don't pout. You know I can't stand to see you sad." He cupped your cheeks and wiggled your face side to side slowly.

Not yet wanting to give up, you made the most adorable puppy eyes you could muster, knowing he was a huge sucker for them. Yunho widened his eyes when he realized what you were doing.

"Kitten- no! Don't do this to me! That's not fair!"

You didn't listen and instead leaned in to place open mouth kisses on the side of his neck, occasionally purring softly. Yunho didn't stand a chance. You were using all his weaknesses to your advantage and he was one thread away from breaking.

Sighing softly, he pulled you away to look at you.

"Ok. We're going to try one time. Just one time! Got it?"

You nodded eagerly and began placing tiny butterfly pecks all over his face.

"Ok ok. But if it doesn't work out, promise you'll drop it." He poked your nose, looking at you with a serious expression to get you to understand.

But deep down, you both knew it wasn't going to be a one time thing only.

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

"Yeosang! I need you to see-"

"Nope!"

Not even giving you a chance to tell him what it was, Yeosang quickly left his seat on the couch and went to the kitchen. It had been like that for the past week, your boyfriend had been avoiding you like you had the plague. You couldn't help but complain.

"You're right honey. You don't have covid. You have something much, much worse."

Leaning in, he gently pinched your nose bridge before whispering:

"Baby fever."

Gasping dramatically, he held a hand over his mouth, pretending to be shocked. You on the other hand, were getting tired of his relentless teasing and ignoring you.

"You're so mean Kang Yeosang!" You stomped away, leaving him there to laugh at how cute you were.

For the next days, you started ignoring Yeosang, instead opting to keep your baby fever to yourself. You were watching a video on your phone. Yeosang had been next to you, wanting your attention, but you refused to budge.

"Baby..." He tried snaking an arm around you.

"Unless you're talking about giving me a baby, I don't want to hear from you."

Scooting away from him, you plopped onto your stomach and resumed watching your video, but not before looking over at Yeosang and saying:

"Jerk."

Yeosang bursted out laughing. He wasn't giving in anytime soon, but he didn't mind you dragging it on. It was much more entertaining than he'd ever believe it would be.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San coughed out some of the food he was eating.

"You wanna what..?" He wanted to make sure he heard you right.

"I want a baby." You happily told him.

San wiped his mouth with a napkin, thinking of what to say next.

"Damn. Baby fever really got you bad didn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words to soften what he'd say.

"See Y/N the thing is..."

When he looked up and saw your hopeful eyes and cheerful smile, his words were lost. He hated telling you no, but he had to at this moment. There was no other option. You were both young.

"Honey wouldn't you rather wait?"

You immediately pouted, letting out a tiny whine before perching yourself on his lap.

"No. I want you to get me pregnant. I wanna carry your baby."

San gulped slightly.

"Damn....not gonna lie, you probably would look pretty adorable with the extra weight on you..."

As you leaned in and placed tiny kisses on the corner of his mouth, San could feel his resolve weakening. He couldn't stop thinking about you looking all round and chubby with a swollen belly. And he sucked in a breath when he thought about fucking you raw. He was just about to give in, when he saw Byeol come out.

"Perfect! Honey! Why think about having a baby when we already have one?!"

You looked to where his finger was pointed at and when you saw the feline, you frowned.

"Byeol isn't a baby and she's been mean lately."

San laughed as he got up to retrieve her.

"Nonsense! She is totally a baby and she's the nicest-"

Byeol let out a menacing meow and scratched San's arm to escape his grasp, dashing down the hall.

"Byeol get back here! I am trying to prove a point!"

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

"Mingi....." You walked up to him, hands fumbling with your sleeves.

"Yes love?" His eyes were all on you, waiting for you to say something.

"Can we....can we have a baby?-"

"Oh my God! Yes! Yes! We absolutely can!"

You shrieked softly when he just picked you up and kissed you.

"You know I love kids and I can't wait until we have one of our own."

He started walking to his room to get started, but you two were stopped by the 98 liners.

"Yes you can and you will wait." Hongjoong sternly said.

From that day on, neither of you two were allowed to be alone, the others were afraid the second they let you two out of their sight, you'd be all over each other.

"You guys are mean." You whined, annoyed that you couldn't spend a date night alone with Mingi.

"We're not mean Y/N. We're protecting you both from a horrible decision." Jongho stated.

"Yeah think about it. You really wanna have kids with this?" Yeosang gestured to Mingi.

"Hey!" Mingi smacked him.

"What's wrong with wanting to have babies with Mingi?" You huffed.

"You're dating him! He's practically a baby himself!" San exclaimed.

You and Mingi both looked at each other. You suddenly cooed.

"You are baby!"

Mingi blushed before mimicking baby noises as he raised his fist and cutely punched the air, making you squeal at how cute he was.

"Someone hold me back before I break them both." Jongho stood up.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung was not having any of your shit. Just because you had baby fever, didn't mean he was gonna let you try and infect him.

"Wooyoung-"

"No!" He'd immediately reply, not wanting to hear anything you said because lately all you talk about is babies.

He even went as far as forbidding you to touch him because he knew you'd try to get in his pants and rile him up. So for safety precautions, he'd carry a spray bottle.

"My sweet and handsome boy-"

You screeched when you felt the spray of cold water on your face.

"Back! Back away! I won't hesitate to bonk you upside the head with it!"

You growled at him before snatching the sprayer away from him and giving him the same treatment.

"Whoah ok! Stop it!"

Wooyoung began screeching as you chased him around the dorm with the bottle. San came in at that moment, looking at you both before taking the water bottle away.

"No weapons in the dorm." He reminded you.

"It was for self defense! This woman is crazy trying to get me to have kids!" Wooyoung exclaimed.

"Well you know what?! Maybe I don't want some loud annoying brat like you as my baby's father.."

You looked over at San and suddenly got an idea. Wooyoung noticed your smirk and did not like it at all.

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It."

You didn't listen though and blurted out:

"San? Wanna be a nice friend and give me a baby?"

San widened his eyes.

"I mean......sure...I guess?"

Wooyoung let out a piercing scream while San covered his ears and went to his room, Wooyoung trailing behind him, accusing him of betraying him and threatening to end their friendship when suddenly he stopped screaming. Wooyoung came back out, a large satisfied smile on his face while San came back out, holding his beloved cat in his hands.

"Here. You can have my baby for a day if you want."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho shook his head yet again.

"Y/N, this has to stop. Baby fever isn't contagious and I'm not going to get it like you did."

You grabbed onto his arm when he tried to walk away.

"But Jongho! I want to have a baby!"

Leaning in, Jongho smiled and winked at you.

"But you already have me. I'm baby."

He laughed at his cute little joke but you weren't. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Jongho sighed, staring straight in your eyes with a serious look to get his point across.

"No means no Y/N."

He got startled when you nuzzled his neck, and tensed up when you began kissing where his mole was.

"Pu-pumpkin...please d-don't do this." Jongho groaned, trying to pry you off him.

He absolutely melted when you began whimpering, not being able to resist the tiny noises escaping from your lips.

"Jongho....please.."

As soon as he heard you begging, he was done. His arms lifted you up and he pressed you against the wall. His lips immediately attached themselves to yours, kissing you hungrily, hands roaming your body.

"Fuck being the baby anymore."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[peter-parcoeur]

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“  Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower.  Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house.  The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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

You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.