#great prompt! Sorry it’s late!

[swordfright]

my @dreblrsecretsanta gift for @airrec ~selkie cdrm chillin in a rock pool 🦭

[lamortwrites]

day seven is too late to start doing anything right

[macrocest]

september 16th, 2024 - objectification and/or somnophilia

suggested pairing: extended family

(this is one of the prompts there was accidentally two of, so now there are two prompts to choose from!)

Cestember: a month long multifandom shipcest event with daily prompts and weekly suggested pairings hosted by @macrocest

Info & Calendar / AO3

[tanzthompson]

❤️

— beneath the mask

din djarin x f!reader

rated t - 1.3k

tags: medieval!au, light angst, anxiety, arranged marriage, soulmate au, reader has a mother & father

prompt: "I wanted it to be you, I wanted it to be you so badly” from the writing challenge hosted by the amazing and lovely @moonlight-prose 💖

when a mysterious stranger wins your hand at the tournament, you can't help but wonder of his intentions

With each step down the aisle, your legs threaten to give out.

A clicking of your teeth as you tremble, before you're gritting your jaw, biting your anxiety back. You have a reputation to uphold, even if you're only the daughter of a lord from a lesser house.

You're still a lady.

And this marriage would ensure a home for you. Protection. More than, if this man is what he says he is.

But a part of you desperately wishes that it was someone else at the end of the aisle.

You'd searched for a long time. For the glimpses that flash in your dreams at night. Knowing that he was out there - the one you had begun to think of as yours.

Your soulmate.

Never managing to meet the same eyes that reflect back at you in the darkness, just before you wake. Not once in the hundreds, thousands of people you’ve looked at, throughout your years.

And when none were found, you slowly gave up. Knowing the world was too large and you were too small, too poor, to seek them out.

Eventually agreeing to the match that your mother and father arranged.

If you could not have him, then you did not want anyone.

And now - the figure that waits for you stands tall.

Encased in gleaming armor, showing none of the nerves that wrack you. Making you wonder if you should have protested. Taken the path of the unwed, even if there was hardship in your future.

The stranger had won your favor, in the tournament. That is how the story will be told, passed on by your father.

Looking back, you remember very little from it. Knowing deep down that the winner would be the one to have your hand, whether you liked it or not. So much of it had turned to haze, as you had sat frozen there.

All but too nervous to watch, as weapons clashed, shields splintering.

Men you had known and grown up with falling beneath the sword of the mysterious man, clad in silver armor.

A Mandalorian, it was rumored.

Something from stories, you didn't know they still existed. An ancient clan of knights and warriors, honoring weapons and myths over sworn deities. Never revealing their faces to outsiders, and sometimes even to their own.

He had never killed any of them, and there was some comfort in that.

But that didn't mean he did not wound.

That he wasn't vicious, ferocious on the battlefield. Driven by an unseen force. Unrelenting, even when blood was drawn - splattering a bright crimson against his armor.

Showing just how he came to earn his station. The leader of his tribe, from the whispers you heard. Traveling far - slipping into the last few open brackets in the tournament, just as the first morning was starting.

Ripping through them all, in the days that followed.

You were given as the prize, in the end.

Even before the day ends, you would belong to him - ferried off to a new life tomorrow.

And this is what also slows your feet.

Wondering why such a man would come for you.

At the end of the aisle, you halt. The clergymany is speaking, but it's all white noise. Your own eyes wide and face solemn as you stare at your betrothed - your features reflected back at you in the tinted glass of his visor.

Acutely aware that you haven't seen his face. Not knowing what your husband was to look like.

Was he younger than you? Or older... older than your father?

Was his face kind, or was it as sharp as his movements? Was it all snarling teeth, beneath?

Were his eyes blue, or green, or just maybe... brown? Like his?

You don't know. You think not. Leaving you to wonder how you will bear it - to spend each day staring into their eyes while dreaming of anothers.

It's only when a voice raises that you're snapped from your thoughts. Realizing that the ceremony is waiting for you.

Managing, with a stammer, to repeat the words. To pledge yourself - your life and love - to this stranger.

The words repeated after, a low voice layering with metal. The shaking of your hands is still visible when they reach out to meet his, the tips of yours resting against wide, steady palms.

Covered in gloves but solid, like the rest of him.

Only the peek of tanned skin visible when he peels the glove from his hand. A small comfort coming in the warmth of his hand, as you slip the ring on his finger, settling it just above a scarred knuckle.

The careful brush of his fingers - a calming stroke against your skin, when he slips a matching one on yours.

Gentle, after everything.

Not him.

But perhaps, not a monster.

The celebrations swirl past you. There's music you don't remember. A meal that sits heavy in your stomach, from the meager amounts you managed to swallow.

A smile plastered on - assuring your excitement to family and friends - all while you worry about the hours to come.

Will he be as gentle as he was during the ceremony?

Or will it be more like the battlefield?

These thoughts linger, as the hours pass. Until the sun dips below the horizon, until the stars blanket the sky.

And then, you're alone.

Waiting in the finest room prepared for him in the guest wing. The pretty, ivory gown stripped from you, replaced with something thin and fine and silver - hand-sewn and intended to please him.

Pacing, until you hear the heavy steps approaching - as he returns from a meeting with your father, your dowry and your life handed over.

Leaving you frozen in place, as the door opens. Where he lingers, filling the space.

A different man than before, you think.

There had not been a slope to his shoulders, the way he moves as if afraid to frighten you.

His voice is different too - soft now, coaxing.

"I wish our meeting had been under more pleasant circumstances." Your husband tells you, as the door slowly shuts behind him.

Trapping you, now. The iron latch heavy, as it locks into place.

"But I could not bear to stand by." He continues, that hard edge creeping into his voice again, "You must understand."

"I don't." You manage - your brow pinched, shifting the smallest step backwards as he moves forward.

He goes still, at your retreat.

"Do you not, ner kar’ta?" His head tilts, "Do you not know why I have come?"

The shake of your head is small. Not understanding the name he calls you, his intentions.

He hesitates then, for a second. Before his hands are reaching - grasping the edge of his helmet. Slipping it from his head, as his head dips.

His hair is dark, beneath. Messy and curling, greying at the temples, down to the scruff that lines his jaw beneath plush lips and the curve of his nose.

And his eyes. That pretty shade of brown, the dark fan of his eyelashes.

You know them. Though you've never seen them, yourself.

For a moment, you can't breathe. Frozen for an entirely new reason - starting back at the eyes that you've seen so often.

"It's you," You manage. The words are no more than a soft gasp.

He lets you touch him, then. Fingertips tracing his jaw, those eyes slipping shut when your fingers brush the nape of his neck. Somehow knowing how the curls would feel against your fingers, already knowing each detail of his face.

Hidden deep down, revealed bit by bit in your sleep.

Only now, do you see all of him.

And only now, do you lean in. Your head tipping towards him, just as his forehead presses against yours. And it's now that you understand the warmth of his touch - the way it seems to soak into your skin. A lost piece of you, now becoming complete.

You hadn’t been able to find him - so he had found you, instead.

Unable to help the smile, as the dark pit in your stomach blooms into spring.

I wanted it to be you, you think - as your heart finally starts to beat again. I wanted it to be you so badly.

There's a hitch in his breath, with your touch. Fingers that stretch out and then curl, until you're taking them yourself, slipping yours between them.

"Now do you know?" Your husband murmurs, in the voice that you know as well as his eyes.

And you do - the answer coming easily, as you nod, "Because you're mine."

"Yes," He smiles.

"Yours."

i cant stop writing soft!soulmate din 💖 thank you for reading!!

ner kar’ta - my heart

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 330

Adjective: Vivacious

Noun: Delta

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Vivacious: attractively lively and animated (typically used of a woman)

Delta: the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet (Δ, δ), transliterated as ‘d’; the fourth in a series of items, categories, etc; (astronomy) the fourth (usually fourth brightest) star in a constellation; a code word representing the letter D, used in radio communication; a difference between two things or values; (computing) a change or set of changes made to a file or program, especially as part of an update to a later version; a triangular tract tract of sediment deposited at the mouth of a river, typically where it diverges into several outlets; a region in northern Mississippi that lies between the Yazoo and Mississippi rivers and is known for its cotton and for blues music

[writingsbychlo]

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo is your slightly toxic, slightly unhinged, but absolutely adoring and completely obsessed boyfriend.

word count; 7077

notes; literally the moment I started watching the PPP music video I was like 'oh it's so matty coded' and this came to mind immediately. I didn't intend for it to get so long, it was supposed to be a short drabble. whoops.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, you were just walking out of detention as he was walking in. 

Well, being dragged in by Madam Hooch, more like. He had blood on his face, and his knuckles, and he was smirking to himself as a sorry-looking Cormac trailed them inside. His eyes met yours, he’d winked, and you’d both continued to watch one another over your shoulders as you crossed paths, until the door shut. 

You were his, from that very first moment. 

The following days brought stolen glances across the classrooms and the Great Hall, his arrogant smirks and your shy smiles, and the look on his face that made you blush. You had to see him again, and opportunity presented itself that same Thursday, in Potions class, as Mattheo argued with Snape over… something. 

You’d tuned out, preferring to sit and watch him. He was just so pretty when he was mad. 

“That will be detention, Mr Riddle.” Snape drawled in that monotonous tone of his, and Mattheo glared across the classroom at the professor, who looked like he couldn't have cared less if he tried. “Unless anybody else has any objections, we can return to—”

Your book hit the ground with a resounding thud. The sound of it echoed around the room, and all eyes turned to you. You weren’t sure what exactly had brought it on, and your friends stared at you, horrified about the disruption. An excuse sat on the tip of your tongue, but then your eyes met those enchanting honey-brown ones, and he was smirking at you once again, a single brow raised. 

“Motherfucker.” You squeaked out, and after a pause that felt like it lasted an eternity, your professor sighed. 

“Very well. Detention for you, too.”

Your jaw dropped, heat flushed your face, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched into a smile. Another wink, and you were a goner. 

That same evening in detention, you’d been punctual and prompt, and he had sauntered in fifteen minutes late, sliding into the chair right beside you. Whispered conversations became jokes and confessions, inching closer and closer together, until you could count every little freckle that danced across his nose, and taste the nicotine and mint still on his breath when he spoke. His eyes held you captive, the stories he told had you on the edge of your seat, and the way his hand slid up your thigh had you burning. 

Your first kiss was a month later, when he’d made you promise not to get any more detentions just to see him. Instead, you’d waited outside the classroom, and the moment he’d been out, he’d given you that same flirty grin. Pressed up into the stone wall behind you, with one of his hands beside your head as the other sat on your waist, his tongue had slipped into your mouth. He’d tasted like chocolate and cigarettes, and you’d been intoxicated. 

And when he pulled back, his softest smile yet on his face as his hand had taken your own, you’d known that he was yours, too.

“What do you mean you’re going out with Mattheo Riddle?” Your friend hissed, her eyes wide as the two of you huddled close together, ducking along the corridors as you hurried to your next class. 

“Well, I mean that he asked me out on a date, and I said yes, so—”

“Don’t be sassy with me!” She scoffed, and you smiled, shrugging. She really had left herself wide open for that, it wasn’t your fault you took the chance she presented. “He’s bad news.”

“Oh, come on. What does that even mean?”

“It means that he’s bad for you. He’s bad for everyone!” Finally reaching the classroom —early, as always— the two of you settled in at your desk, unpacking your books, and still whispering despite the empty classroom you found yourselves in. Not even the professor had arrived yet. “He’s always getting in fights, and he’s always in trouble or detention, and— hey! I bet he’s the reason you’ve been getting a string of detentions lately, huh?”

You had no rebuff to that, heat coating your cheeks but you couldn't hide the smile that grew on your face at the mere thought of all your detention time spent together. “He told me not to do that anymore, that’s why he asked for a date! See? He’s good for me.”

“Oh, gee, what a saint he is.” She muttered, eyes rolling so hard you thought they’d fall out. All humour slowly dissipated between you both, and she frowned and opened her notebook, dipping a quill in fresh ink. As the seconds ticked by, tension grew between you both that you didn’t like. 

“Look, I know what people say about him, and the reputation he has, but he’s not like that with me. He’s not been like that with me.” Your hand lifted, scratching your cheek subconsciously. “It’s… not our first date. It’s just the first one I’ve told you about, because I knew you’d react like this. But, if you knew him like I did, you’d understand…”

Your voice trailed off, dreamy with a sigh and she turned to look at you. One of her brows raised as she put down her quill delicately. A beat passed, and her shoulders sagged, a little of the tension slipping free. “He really makes you happy? Because… I’m just worried about you, y’know?”

“I know, and I love you for that. But I just need you to be happy for me right now.”

“He’s going to break your heart. He’s going to make you cry, and hate the world, and I don’t like that.” 

Your hand slipped to hers, taking it in yours and squeezing. Flicking through your mind was the confidence brought on by every sweet word he whispered in your ear. All the soft kisses and touches. They didn’t know the kindness, and the devotion, and the loyalty. 

How could they, when they never gave him a chance? But his friends did, they saw the same side of him that you did. The version of him that would defend their name, and stop at nothing to make them happy. The version of him that didn’t believe the lies and the rumours, and never even looked at any other girls. 

They didn’t know how funny he was, how secretly cuddly he was, or how he just craved a little attention. They didn’t see him on the nights he’d sneak into your dorm just to crawl into bed and hold you, or the flowers he’d drop off outside your door. They didn’t see the love-hearts written on the corners of his notes in class or the way he got grumpy if he went too long without affection. 

You had good taste. You knew you did. It was just a shame nobody else saw it.

 “He won’t, I know he won’t.”

“I hope for your sake he proves me wrong.”

Mattheo was nothing if not a sweet-talker. He’d spent the morning covering you with kisses, and whispering into your ear about the date he would take you on tonight. By the end of the day, you’d been kissed on every inch of your face, and the husky tone of his voice was still ringing in your ears as he bid you goodbye, and promised to pick you up in a few hours. 

He’d been right on time, too. Knocking at your door at seven on the dot with flowers in hand and a whole new batch of compliments rolling off of his tongue. Gods, did Mattheo love to make you blush. Everything from looking you up and down seductively, to telling you that you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, he did it all. 

He kissed you like you were the only woman in the world, like he wanted you to feel his love and devotion as much as he spoke the words, and you melted into him every time. Whether it was a brush of his lips over your own, or his hands grasping at your body, pulling you so close you nearly fused as his mouth claimed yours, he did all of it so passionately. 

Now, he was kissing your knuckles, guiding you toward one of the more expensive restaurants in Hogsmeade, one you’d never been to before, and grinning at your expression. 

“Matty, this place isn’t cheap!”

“Nothing will be good enough for my girl, but certainly nothing cheap. For now, this is the best I can give to you.” Tugging you in close, the two of you stood outside of the beautifully decorated little building, and he nudged his nose against yours. “One day, I’ll take you all around the world, to eat the best food with the best views.”

“Oh…” Your hands settled on his face, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks as he smiled, and you pressed a kiss on his lips in gratitude as words seemed to escape you entirely. “I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty girl.” His arms were tight around your waist, not quite ready to go yet, and his lips parted like there was something more he had to say. “Listen, when we get in there, I just have to speak to one of the workers real quick, okay?”

“Okay.” It didn’t seem all that concerning to you, and with a final kiss to your lips, he was holding open the restaurant door for you. His hand was warm in your own as he led you through the building. But then he was guiding you right past the hostess station, and you glanced back to it, but his feet never stopped moving, and you hurried to keep up with him. 

Past tables and other workers, your jaw dropped with a soft gasp as he let himself into the back of the restaurant.

“Matty, I don’t think we’re allowed back here…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Mattheo smiled, leaving another kiss on your cheek as he let go of your hand. “Wait here for me, ‘kay? I just need to speak to one of the chefs.”

With that, he was disappearing into the kitchens, and you leaned back against the wall, staring at the clock opposite you. Seconds ticked past, turning into minutes, ten of them, to be precise, before the shouting started. Mattheo was yelling, you’d know his voice anywhere, and when you poked your head around the doorframe and into the kitchen, it was to find him holding a vaguely familiar-looking chef by the collar, and slamming him into a wall. 

“Mattheo!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears, as the two began to push. Mattheo’s back hit the counter behind him, a sickening smack and a grunt of pain, before the two were throwing fists. Every crunch of bones on skin and every rattling sound of a body hitting the workstations and countertops made your stomach turn. You covered your ears, turning your back on it all and shaking your head. 

You didn’t need to see that. 

Eventually, the other chefs stepped in, dragging Mattheo out of the backdoor. When it was all over, you apologised profusely as you hurried through the kitchen to follow after him, hopping over the boy he’d beaten half-senseless who was groaning on the floor. 

Stepping out through the backdoor, Mattheo was pacing, spitting a bloody mouthful out onto the floor, and his head snapped up in your direction. Only when he realised who it was did his gaze soften, and he wiped his palm across the back of his mouth. 

A few seconds of silence passed as the shock settled and you checked he was okay, and when he reached for you, you turned from him. Storming away down the alley, you heard his frustrated groan behind you, the sound of him kicking a trash can, before he was hurrying after you. 

“Okay, I know that wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go—”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Your laugh was so dry it almost made your chest hurt, and you didn't even bother to look back at him as you began to walk back through Hogsmeade.

“I fucked up, I know—”

“Understatement of the century.” You muttered, ignoring his attempts at excuses and explanations as you wove through the streets. People offered you both funny looks, no doubt because of the blood running from his nose as he tried to stop it, the pair of you mid-argument. 

When you reached the edges of the town, Mattheo fell into step beside you, his hand skimming down your back, burning into you through the thin fabric of your dress. A dress that had been a damn waste to put on.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, slapping his hand away from your lower back, and he whined.

“Oh, come on, baby. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry! You planned this, and told me we were going on a date!” Your arms crossed over your chest as you stomped back out of the small village, beginning the walk back towards the school. “You lied to me!”

“Woah, now! Hey! I never lied! I fully intended to—” He huffed as you continued to walk ahead of him, all but speeding in your heels until you wobbled, and he cursed under his breath, catching you to steady you. Spinning you around, he tipped your chin up with one finger. “Listen, pretty girl. I never meant for all this to happen, okay? I meant it when I said I’d made us a reservation. I just figured I’d go and get my money from this guy, maybe even let him off a few galleons so he’d give us better service, and then we’d have a nice date. I didn’t expect him to start a fight!”

“He didn’t start the fight, you did!” You poked a finger into his chest, and he winced. Obviously, you’d found a bruise by mistake. Smoothing your palm over it in way of a silent apology, his hand cupped yours, holding it over his heart. “You said ‘Let’s take this outside’.”

“Okay, well, I was calling his bluff. I didn’t expect him to actually take me up on it!”

Your jaw tightened, and your lip wobbled. You felt ridiculous, you’d gotten all dressed up, and you were hungry, and he’d let you down. At your expression, his own face crumpled, and he sighed sadly as he cupped your cheeks. 

“Please, baby, don’t cry because of me. You look so pretty, you did your makeup so nice, I don’t want you to cry because of me. Let’s just go back and find somewhere else to eat, yeah?”

“I don’t want to, and we can’t! You’re dirty and bleeding, and you’ve got a black eye coming on. We can’t go anywhere.” You muttered, crossing your arms. He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I love you, more than anything. I really didn’t mean for it to go like this. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Promise me.” You huffed, gaze finally returning to his, and he nodded emphatically. “No more acting stupid in front of me.”

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll never mix business with pleasure again, okay? When I’m with you, it’s all you.”

Just like that, he had your walls crumbling. How could you stay mad at him, when he smiled so sweetly, and made you feel so special? You gave in, one hand lifting to his cheek, touching gently at the swollen skin around the cut on his face. He hissed and pulled back, and your frown only deepened. “C’mon, you can come to my dorm, I’ll clean you up.”

“You’re gonna’ clean me up?” His smile was like that of a puppy, taking your hand happily and guiding you back along the path. “I tell you what, I’ll force Nott to sneak into the kitchens and make us some pasta, in exchange for the room to himself tonight, how’s that?”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You smirked, and he matched it, shrugging. 

“I don’t know. Maybe the cold, stone floor in front of the common room fireplace.” Your eyes rolled, and he dipped his head, leaving a kiss on your neck. “Or maybe, my loving girlfriend will let me stay over, and I’ll make it worth her while…”

“I don’t want to look at your battered face.”

“Put a pillow over my head and get on top, then.” He snickered, and your jaw dropped.

“Matty!”

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the forest, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you. 

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the Lake, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you.“Baby, wake up.” The words were mumbled tenderly into your ear, and you groaned a little at the hand gently shaking your shoulder. “Come on, pretty girl, open those eyes.”

“What, Matty? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, that’s why it’s the perfect time!” Excitement tinged his voice, and as you forced your eyelids open, you found him standing at the edge of your bed, wand lit up dimly, and your coat in his hand. “Get up, baby. We’re going for a walk.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You don’t think the stars and the moon are romantic? Isn’t there just something… better about the night?”

Your smile was against your will, sitting up slowly and swinging your feet out of the bed, suppressing a yawn. “You’re lucky I wore full pyjamas to bed tonight.”

“You mean I could’ve walked in here to find you naked?” He clasped a hand over his heart, letting out a pained groan. He handed you his wand to hold, before dropping to his knees before you. 

“No, you perv! I meant that I’m wearing full-leg pyjamas, not my shorts!”

He only snickered to himself, while navigating your trainers onto your feet and tying the laces up for you. Once they were secure, he took his wand back, sliding it into his back pocket and clasping your hands in his own. With a kiss on your lips, he wrapped the warm coat over your shoulders. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, Matty.”

He grinned at that, taking your hand, and leading you through the silent halls. Twigs snapped under your feet as you crossed the courtyard together, giggling and shushing each other, and you had to admit that he was right. Both the adrenaline of it all, and the beauty of the scenery, made for the perfect blend of excitement and romance. 

As you cleared the school building and began to make your way out across the fields, Mattheo’s arm looped around your waist, supporting you through every dip and hole in the grass, never letting you so much as stumble. 

“Nearly there.” He whispered into the cold night air as you approached the quidditch grounds, the different house flags blowing gently in the summer breeze. 

“Nearly where? I thought we were just going for a walk.”

He didn’t reply, and only a couple of steps later, the barely concealed voices of several of his friends carried across the pitch towards you both. “Mattheo Riddle, I swear to Merlin, if you’ve brought me along on one of your ridiculous schemes—” You shrieked, cutting yourself off as one of the Weasley’s firecrackers shot past your head, between the two of you, and Theodore’s laughter echoed out, following it. 

“Oi, Nott, watch it. If that’d hit my girl, the next thing to be hit would be your face on the fuckin’ concrete.”

“Relax, she ducked! No harm, no foul. Right, principessa?” Theo smirked, seeming to appear from the shadows as he sparked his lighter, and brought the flame to the end of his cigarette. Lorenzo was there too, a bag over one shoulder that rattled suspiciously as he came towards the three of you, and your arms crossed protectively over your body. 

“Matty, what is this?”

“Don’t flirt with my girl in Italian.” Mattheo glared at his friend, but it soon melted away as he was handed the cigarette, and Theo tucked his hands into his pockets, appraising you. 

“This, bella, is revenge.”

“What did I just say about the Italian—?”

“Why do you need revenge?” Your words crossed Mattheo’s who only huffed, but remained quiet as he passed the cigarette beyond you to Enzo. Nobody answered, and your boyfriend shuffled from one foot to the other as your narrowed gaze turned on him. “Mattheo.”

“The Gryffindors were talking shot about our upcoming game, and McLaggen and his mates thought it’d be funny to charm all our jerseys pink for practice, so we’re just getting even.”

“Why do I get the feeling that whatever you’re about to do is far beyond ‘even’? Pink jerseys don’t seem equal to… whatever you’re doing here. I want no part of it.” You spun on your heel, but didn’t get very far, not even a single step, before Mattheo was wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulling you into himself. You jabbed a finger into his chest, putting the full heat of your wrath into your stare, “You said we were going for a walk!”

“We are! We did. Look, this is gonna’ be fun, you’ll see. I know how much that one Gryffindor chick has been pissing you off lately. I'm getting revenge for you too, here!” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your lips, before planting a kiss there. “I’m avenging you, baby.”

He took your hand, pulling you along behind him with the kind of infectious excitement that made you smile, even when you didn’t want to. Sitting down on one of the benches, you watched with an amused smile at the way he and his friends whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves as they thought through just what they might do. 

That innocent adoration you had didn’t last long.

You’d been expecting a few stink bombs in lockers and foul-smelling potions tipped into the shower drains that would stink for weeks. Maybe even a hex or two for inconvenience. A shriek burst past your lips as another of Theodore’s rockets shot past your head, screeching as it went and your hands clasped over your ears. 

He was letting them off, inside. Glitter exploded everywhere, the few flaming pieces of ash sprinkling down eroded holes in the towels and jerseys hanging on hooks around the locker room. Glass shattered somewhere, and Theo all but howled with laughter as the rocket shot off into the night sky to fizzle out with a colourful bang.

Enzo was spray-painting something on the walls in the shower room, following his rude and physically impossible message spray-painted on the inside of the door that he was still snickering to himself about. 

Mattheo was systematically unlocking all of the cupboards, and placing a different bad-luck hex on every single piece of equipment. After leaving a sporadic spiral-dive hex on one of the brooms and putting it back, you’d had enough. 

Sweeping your hair out of your eyes, you stood, making your way over to his side. “Matty…”

“Yeah, baby?” He was distracted as he mumbled his response, careful wand-work as he charmed one of the beater’s bats to flop like wet spaghetti every time they tried to hit something. 

“Mattheo.”

At your tone, and the use of his full name, he looked up. He took in the nervous expression on your face, the sad and pouty frown on your lips, and sighed. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“They were talking shit about us!”

“You're risking really hurting someone, though!” You gestured around, from his handiwork to the broken window and glass fragments on the floor. “You’re actually damaging school property!”

“A few spells will have it cleaned up in no time. Don’t be dramatic.”

You gaped at him for a second, before walking away, turning your back to him and plopping down back onto the bench with a huff. Behind you, you heard him kick something, swearing under his breath, before he stepped back into your sight. When you didn’t look up at him, he dropped down to his knees, forcing himself into your line of vision. 

He has his puppy dog eyes on, and pressed a kiss to each of your hands as he took them in his own. “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty girl. I just meant… you don’t get it. This is what we do. You’re just too sweet for this, you wouldn't hurt a fly. But this could be so much worse, it’s all a bit of fun, just trust me, yeah? I’m getting them back, for me, and for you.”

“But it’s a lot. And I never asked you to get even for me.” You whispered, and he nodded. 

“You don’t have to ask. I protect you, that’s what I do. It’s you and me, baby. For life.” You softened a little at that, and he noticed, his smile growing again as he knelt up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I won’t do anymore, how’s that? I’ll round up the boys, and we’ll get out of—”

Just then, voices flickered through the room. The angry, panicked shouting of at least six different people, rapidly got louder as they neared the space you occupied. Enzo clambered up onto one of the window ledges, and peered out of the broken glass. “Oh, shit. They know. ‘Least ten Lions, coming this way. And fast. Fucking go!”

The first spell bounced through the open glass, sending shards flying as it caught the last of the jagged spikes still on the frame, just as Enzo ducked out of the way. Theo scrabbled past, and out of the back door, Enzo quickly following, and you jumped to your feet as Mattheo did. 

Another spell burst through, bouncing on the locked door, and the muffled voices of your accomplices felt a million miles away as fear struck through your body. The door rattled again, the lock creaking as the half-arsed spell they’d sealed it with threatened to give way. The pounding of your heart in your chest was deafening, roaring in your ears—

Then, a hand clamped down on yours, pulling you along. “Baby girl, let’s go! Come on, what are you doing?”

Mattheo tugged on your hand, like a splash of cold water the jolt he made snapped you to your senses. You stumbled after him, staring at his bouncing curls and the flush of his cheeks as he looked at you, guiding you out of the backdoor and into the night. Stumbling down the hill, the two of you ran so fast you almost fell several times, angry shouts following you out into the night as flashes and flickers of bright spells whizzed past you constantly. 

You let Mattheo guide you, running until your lungs burned and your chest ached from your pounding heart, but you’d lost them. You’d lost Theo and Enzo, too. Silence shrouded you both as you finally came to a stop, only the lapping water at the shore of the lake and both of your soft pants to break the heavy quiet.

He turned to you, one hand lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you glared at him as he leaned in to kiss one of your no-doubt flushed cheeks. 

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, knuckles still tracing up and down your jaw as he stared at you under the moonlight. 

“I’m so mad at you for that. I hate running, and panicking, and vandalising. All the things I hate, you just wrapped ‘em up in one.”

He smiled something wicked, and leaned in, to bump his nose with your own. “You love me, though.”

“Debatable, right now.” Your scoff was lost as he pressed soft kisses to your lips, coaxing you into remembering just how much you loved him. You were ashamed to say that it worked, as you parted your mouth a little more to reciprocate. 

You felt his smile pressed to your mouth as he did, that hand on your cheek smoothing out, fingers in your hair as he cupped your head, and angled your face for a deeper kiss. 

You were once again both panting by the time he pulled away, satisfied and smitten. 

“Come on, my angry girl. Let’s go for that walk now, yeah? Just me and you for a stroll around the lake.”

You winced as another cracking sounded out, the echo of Mattheo’s fist against the cocky Ravenclaw’s jaw had your stomach rolling. A boy you’d never much cared about. He was entitled and arrogant, and tended to run his mouth a little too much. He thought he was the best thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts, and a blessing to womankind, and you’d caught his eyes on you a couple of times. 

Of course, you’d never mentioned as much to Mattheo, in hopes of sparing him this exact situation. Mattheo didn’t take kindly to lingering gazes, and he didn’t tolerate leering ones at all. He was protective, overprotective, and he was a little bit crazy. He was also in love, and in his opinion, the cat-call the Ravenclaw had given to you and the choice words he’d accompanied it had crossed a line.

And they said Ravenclaws were the smart ones.

So, Mattheo hadn't hesitated. He’d dropped your hand, curled it into a fist, and swung on the boy before he’d even finished smirking at your shocked look. 

Now, you were sighing, as he took the Ravenclaw down to the ground, uncaring of the blow to his shoulder as the two rolled over the stone floors. Scuffling and throwing blows, a crowd formed around them, jostling you endlessly from side to side. He was winning, as always, beating the poor boy into the same blue as his house banners, and no amount of pleading on your behalf to just drop it was going to stop him now. 

You should’ve been halfway to Hogsmeade by now. You’d never make your reservation, and you’d gotten yourself all dressed up for nothing. Hours wasted on hair and make-up and picking out the perfect outfit for this date, all for Mattheo’s impulsive temper and one gross creep to ruin it.

The two continued to brawl, fists slamming, feet kicking, and blood splattering as the crowd cheered and shouted so loud it was deafening. You’d learnt it the hard way a long time ago that you couldn't do anything to stop him now, not when he got into this state, without risking getting hurt yourself. All you could do was wait, and hope.

Finally, the Gryffindor prefect stepped in. He was a sturdy man, broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, as was his friend, as the two grabbed for one of Mattheo’s arms each, pulling him off and to his feet. Blood streamed from his nose, and he grinned, pink tainting his teeth before he spat at the boy curling up on the floor. 

“You be fucking glad they stopped me, because I wouldn't have!” 

“For fuck’s sake…” You muttered, the heat of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks as several gazes fell on you. Elbowing his way through the crowd was an equally red Professor Slughorn, but his flush was from anger. 

“Riddle! Of course, it’s a Riddle. You can take yourself to detention.”

A whine slipped free from your throat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mattheo attempted to shake off the two prefects, wiping his nose with his sleeve and wincing at the feeling. He shrugged, “I can’t tonight, professor. I have plans.”

“I don’t care! Detention, now!” 

Stepping over the Ravenclaw still whimpering at your feet, Mattheo smiled what you assumed was supposed to be a seductive grin at you as you neared him. With the split of his lip, the stain of dried blood on his face, and the splotchy swelling along his nose and jaw, it didn’t quite hit the mark anymore. You were too angry to fall for it. 

“So you’re bailing on our date, again?” Your lip wobbled, arms crossed your chest as you tried to glare at him, but the stinging in your throat betrayed you as your voice cracked. 

“Don’t cry, baby, you did your make-up so nice. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He leaned in, lowering his voice in an attempt for intimacy, despite the Gryffindors tugging on his arms. “I love you.”

You sighed, but released your anger, cupping his face softly so as not to aggravate the painful patches further. “I love you too.”

His lips barely brushed your own before Slughorn was grabbing him by his collar, and yanking him away through the crowds towards detention. Once he was gone, the cowering boy on the floor dragged himself to his feet, his friends hauling him away, and he made the wise decision not to even glance in your direction. 

Even as the crowd parted and you made your way back to your dorm, the lingering feeling of anger petered out to immense disappointment. 

Your reflection was frowning as you stared at yourself in the mirror, pretty outfit and stunning makeup, all going to waste while your boyfriend rotted the night away in detention. 

Detention. 

The same place where your relationship had started, and a ridiculous idea began to root itself in your mind. Tipping out the contents of your school bag, your books and quills scattered across the bedding, and you repacked it with what you’d need instead. 

With a fresh spritz of perfume and a new swipe of lipgloss, you left your dorm, heels clicking against the stone as you hurried yourself along on your mission. The doors were spelled against sneaking out of detention, but sneaking in was surely a different case. 

Your suspicions were confirmed as you pushed the door open, the loud creak echoing through the room, but you were granted entry as you stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind you, and yet, Flitwick didn’t so much as flinch from where he was snoozing atop the desk at the front of the classroom. Mattheo watched with widening eyes and tissues pressed to his nose as you walked through the aisles and took a seat beside him at the desk he’d claimed as his own. 

“What’re you doin’ here, baby?”

You scoffed at his muffled voice, swinging your bag off your shoulder and onto the desk, before sitting down. Taking his hands in your own, you pulled them back, inspecting the damage he’d made to his pretty face. “It’s date night. I wasn’t going to let you sit in here all alone, when I put effort into looking this good.”

Your whispered words made him grin, and you took the tissues from his hands, dabbling softly at the last of the blood. When it was gone, you rifled through your bag instead, producing a small vial of swirling purple liquid. Upon seeing it, he groaned. “Oh, no, I hate those. They taste gross and musty.”

“Maybe if you hadn't done this to yourself, you wouldn't have to take it.” You uncapped the vial, and as the smell drifted to him, he gagged. You raised it to his lips, and he offered a sullen look but parted them for you to tip it into his mouth. Swallowing it came with a grimace, and you wiped your thumb over his lips to get rid of the sticky residue it left. Within seconds, the swelling on his jaw was going down, the cut on his nose was healing over, and the nasty bruising under his eyes was fading away. “That’s better. My pretty boy is back.”

He blushed at that but offered a cheeky grin, and leaned in to kiss you sweetly. Before his lips could meet yours, you swerved, and he grunted unhappily as his mouth landed on your cheek instead. 

“You’re not kissing me while you still taste like that gross potion.”

“Typical.” He mumbled, but left a few more peppered kisses along your jaw. You worked as he did, laying out the various snacks you’d brought with you along the table, and as he caught sight of the chocolate frog, an excited gasp slipped free. He snatched the frog up quickly, tearing off the foil wrapper and snapping off a leg. 

He lifted it to your lips, always offering you the first bite, and you let him feed it to you while he watched on. Happy you’d taken it, he snapped off another, dropping the chunk into his mouth and chewing happily. 

“God, I love you so fucking much,” He sighed as he finished eating, finally leaning in to claim this kiss he had been denied earlier. “I’m gonna’ marry you someday.”

“Yeah, and you’ll probably get yourself arrested on the big day.” Your voice was bitter but your smile was the same as whenever he talked of his plans or your joint future. He knew you were bluffing too, closing the gap between you both once again, and nipping gently on your bottom lip. 

“I always come back to you though, baby.”

That made you kiss him properly because you had no retort to offer. It was true, he always found his way back to you. He was crazy, reckless, and impulsive, but he was in love with you, and he didn’t care to hide it. 

Not from the others in the detention room, not from the people in the halls, not from anyone on this earth. It was the two of you together, he’d never leave you behind or let you down, and you could trust him in that. 

So, maybe he did prove ‘em right. But he also proved you right. Mattheo Riddle was so much more than they all said he was. He was loyal and loving, and he was yours.

[miniimight]

I need more dad Sukuna and mom reader fics / headcsnons, I love the way you wrote for them!!

hey anon thank you! i'm thinking about making this a series, if you guys have any ideas/requests/prompts lmk <3

PICKING UP BABY FROM SCHOOL oops, toddlers can't ride motorcyles! (dad!sukuna x mom!reader)

sukuna rolled up about twenty minutes before his daughter's school got out, deploying the kickstand of his pitch black motorcycle against the rainbow colored fencing. he pulled off his helmet, sighing deeply when he met fresh air again.

his phone buzzed against his thigh. he pulled it out of his tight cargo pocket, answering immediately when he saw your caller ID. "hey, doll."

"you got there okay?" you asked.

"mhm."

"and you're on the right side of the building? that's where her class comes out."

"mhm."

"great." you exhaled. "m'sorry i couldn't make it this time—"

"stop." he says gruffly, his phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls off his gloves. "what are you sorry for, silly girl? you're sick and should rest."

he doesn't mind anything when it comes to his two girls, not the fifteen minute commute to her school or the half hour of waiting just to get a parking spot nice and close to the doors.

your laugh was warbled over the phone. "at least the car is air conditioned. it's been getting warmer lately."

"..." he looked down at his bike.

"ryo, baby?" you hummed.

"hm?"

"you did take the car, right?"

"..."

his silence was all you needed to hear. he tuned out your worried rambling about how the hell is your daughter going to get home on that thing in order to process. toddlers don't usually use motorcycles as a mode of transportation... and he should've thought of this before!

"it'd be fine if i had an extra seat." he mused, debating on how he could manage this situation without having to call you to get them.

"an extra seat?! not even an extra helmet?" you shrieked. "baby, i swear, if you're actually thinking about driving with my baby girl on that thing—"

"relax, doll," he grumbled, pushing down the traces of embarrassment burning at his ears. "the brat will be fine, s'just a couple blocks away. she can handle the wind."

"..."

the bell rang and the doors swung open, children pouring out of the hallway and buzzing around in search of their parents.

"she's out, we'll see you soon." he was about to hang up when he heard,

"i'm literally about to come get you, do NOT go anywhere."

he frowns, his eyes scouring the crowd of midgets for his kid. he didn't mean to make you so upset and worried. he just... overlooked important details sometimes. not his fault, he's trying his best :(

"y/n, you will sit your ass down in bed. when i come home, you better be laying down exactly how i left you." he warned. he heard your breath hitch. "you trust me, don't you, baby?"

"yes... unfortunately."

he nodded. "we'll be home soon."

"in one piece?"

he rolled his eyes, grumbling. "yes, woman."

"hm." you huffed and hung up.

he strolled into the compound. as soon as he saw those pretty eyes that creased happily when they landed on him, he smiled and crouched down.

she ran over to him, her backpack jostling behind her. she held up a painting she made. "daddy, look!"

"i see." he pulled her closer, holding the backpack off her back and letting her walk off it. he slung the bedazzled bratz backpack over his shoulder, lifting her up in his arms. "what is it?"

"for mama."

"oh. all your crafts seem to be for mama. still nothing for me." he complained with a drawn out sigh.

she rolled her eyes, and he swore he was looking at you for a second.

"don't roll your eyes at me, brat." he scoffed. "who the hell even taught you that?" he muttered under his breath.

sukuna finally stopped in front of his bike. her eyes lit up as her legs started to kick in excitement. she's only ever seen daddy ride off on this thing, now she gets to ride with him?

he swung his leg over the bike, ignoring the mix of distasteful and flirtatious looks thrown at him. "okay, kid." he exhaled, shrugging off his jacket and holding it up to her. "gotta put this on."

she turned up her nose. "stinky."

his jaw dropped open. "i showered before i came to wait half an hour for you, chubby brat. the hell do you think you're talking to?"

she looked at him as if it were obvious.

"you'll put this on now. give me mama's painting, i'll put it in your bag." he said gruffly yet gently slid the painting into her backpack with the utmost care.

the jacket drowned her, the sleeves near triple the length of her arms. sukuna zipped her up and put the helmet on her head.

she started to whine. "stinky." she wailed.

"hush." he hissed, slapping some shades on and holding her towards her chest firmly. with her protected as best as he could with what he had, and with the jeweled backpack strapped to his back, he began to roll out into the road.

that drive home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. he had never drove so slow before.

you were waiting by the front door, running down to meet them as your husband pulled into the driveway.

"oh my god oh my god," you ripped your baby from his arms, tossing the helmet off her head. "are you okay, baby?" you smoothed away the sweaty hair from her face, your lips pursing when you hear her sniffles.

"my poor baby. daddy's never gonna pick you up again, don't you worry." you peppered her face with kisses.

sukuna caught the helmet before it crashed to the ground, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. he kissed your temple as he leaned over your shoulder to peer down at his daughter. "daddy didn't do so bad."

you glare at him, cradling your daughter's head against your chest. you whirl away and storm into the house.

he sighed.

after many apologetic kisses and a good amount of groveling, you let him do pick-ups and drop-offs again. though you made sure to watch him get into the car before he drove off.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[tourturestarradio]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘

“𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Wolverine x kind reader x Deadpool 

Warnings: suggestive, sexual jokes, spoilers (kinda? after the time stuff) injuries, 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

You couldn’t remember the last time you talked with Wade, it’d been a while. Longer than normal. He’d come into your shop asking for sweets all the time it was nice talking to him he was pretty funny.

You met him after he basically saved you from a creep trying to attack you. After that he’d visit you at work getting a discount for saving you, you grown to like him a lot but it took a while for you to get out of your comfort zone.

With his very vulgar language, very….out there personality you grew close with him, Wade telling his friends about you any chance he got which lead to him introducing you to his friends making you insanely nervous.

The interaction was odd for them not you. There stared at you “…you’re Y/n?” A teenager with a long name asked, you nodded happily a friendly smile on your face. They glanced at you then at Wade then back at you “…if you were forced to be here blink twice” 

You chuckled nervously but they seemed to be dead serious “I’m here on my own will, I promise” you clarified, Wade wrapped his arms around your shoulder “you think I forced her to be my friend! You hurt me” you glanced at him “will you kinda did-“ “alright let’s go meet Colossus!” He dragged you away from the moody teenager to continue to interact with his friends.

You thought back on the memory pouting missing your friend. You finished cleaning up your cafe about to leave when there was knock at the glass door, turning to look at it you saw a person standing their it looked like an older man.

You placed your bag down you grabbed your “baby knife” Wade gifted you, you didn’t like  violence but after what happened last time you stayed out too late  you slid it up your sleeve slowly unlocking and opening the door “hello do you need some help?” You asked.

The older man stumbled nodding “f-food please…” he almost fell onto you but you caught him “uh…um…okay just…just sit down please” you hummed carefully helping him sit down. 

You went to get treats that no one had bought, usually you’d give that to Wade but he wasn’t here so you’d give it to the old man. 

You turned to hand him the bag but he was standing up straight “um are you alright….sir?” Gripping onto the knife tighter you stepped closer to him, he chuckled lowly “to nice for your own good.” Before you knew it he jumped towards you. 

You screamed in surprise pulling out your knife you stabbed him “ahh you bitch!” He fell back clutching him chest “I-I’m sorry!” You didn’t know what to do you felt bad for stabbing him but he was going to attack you.

He pulled the knife out standing up, bad choice you gulped knowing the outcome of this situation.

That night you went home with plenty of injuries and no money. Great. You had unlocked your front door going inside you flicked on the light “surprise! Welcome home honey bun-“ he froze in his spot.

He’d waited to surprise you when you got home. He thought you’d be in-static to see he was home from his thrilling mission and was going to tell you all about it but he was shocked to see you with a busted lip, black eye and bruises covering your face and arms. 

“Oh my god what fuck!” He hurried up to you grabbing your shoulders “Wade nice to see you” you greeted, he was panicked but didn’t want to show it “how exactly can you see me? Looks like someone had a run in with Chris Brown, what happened” he joked.

You let out a dry chuckle “some jerk…I thought he needed…I thought he needed help but he was just trying to rob me. And he took my baby knife” Wade gasped “not the baby knife!” 

As you went to get in the shower Wade clenched his fists “Honey bun I’ll be right back to tell you all about my adventure and the new friends I made!” He shouted into the bathroom earning a “alright” from you. 

Leaving your house he went into his apartment slamming open his door gaining a odd look from the rest of the group. 

Logan raised a brow “what’s your deal?” Wade grabbed his swords and guns “some tiny dick loser attacked my friend” Logan stared at him with his usual annoyed face “so?” Wade stopped at the door looking back “so? That girl is one of if not the nicest and hottest person on the planet and some dickwad attacked her!” He turned and left the apartment slamming the door. 

“Who’s he talking about?” He asked Colossus got up “one of his close friends Y/n, she’s very important to him” he stated Logan was just confused but didn’t really care.

After a few hours Wade had returned dropping his weapons down at the floor “handled that, I feel so much better” he hummed, Logan glanced at him “you killed the guy didn’t you?” He asked. Wade smiled “yeah duh if you knew Honey hun like I knew her you’d do the same, well actually!” An idea popped into his head.

“Whatever your thinking. Don’t think it.” Wade laughed “oh come on you’ll love her! Not as much as the reader loves us but still” Logan looked at him confused “what?” “Oh come on peanut!” 

“If I go will you shut the fuck up?” Wade smiled leaving the apartment “no promises!” Logan rolled his eyes and followed. 

Wade knocked on the door “Honey bun! I’m back and I’ve brought a friend!” He continued to knock until the door opened revealing you now patched up and holding a ice pack up to your eye.

“Oh hi Wade, hello Wade’s friend” You smiled politely moving out of the way to let Wade and his friend in “I’m not his friend.” You shut the door “oh well what’s your name? I’m Y/n nice…nice to meet you” you greeted.

He stared down at you, he wasn’t to fond of physical contact and if he was touching someone it was usually stabbing punching slicing. But he grabbed your hand shaking it before letting go quickly “Logan.” He stated, You smiled at him “nice to meet you Logan- wait like Wolverine Logan!” You wanted to scream.

Wade watched as you hurried to your room, “she was a big fan of the X men Wolverine was her favorite you’d be surprised at the amount of edits she and probably the reader has saved on Tik tok” 

Logan looked at Wade confused “you wouldn’t get it, I never had the guts to tell her he died. I mean look at her” you hurried out of your room holding an X men comic “if…if you don’t mind could you sign this…please…” you gulped nervously.

Wade leaned over “come on, look how excited she is, kinda like how I was seeing her naked for the first time” Logan scoffed “shut it. Look I’m not that Wolverine…” he huffed, that look of excitement faded from your face almost made him a little sad.

“Oh…wait I’m confused…” Wade held your shoulders “time to tell you all about my adventure!” He pushed you over to your couch.

After telling you about everything that happened you sat with a frown “so the Wolverine from our world is gone…” Wade nodded “yep but yaknow Hugh jackmen just couldn’t get enough of this roll so now he’s alive again.” 

You glanced at Logan “so you’re still Wolverine…just from a different world…?” He nodded “that’s still so cool!” You stated excitedly, Logan looked at you a little surprised by how enthusiastic you were.

But he knew how this would turn out, he’s not gonna engage. You seemed like a sweet girl but he knows how this goes so he wasn’t going to even try. 

“Yeah I’m not all that great.” He huffed, you lightly nudged him a playful tone “well you still saved the world, and you’re still cool to me” you hummed, Wade’s smile widened “Honey bun” he called out, you looked at him “you got any cookies?” You nodded “sure I’ll go get some.” 

You got up leaving the two “see what did I tell you, she’s amazing!” Logan rolled his eyes “fuck off” he grumbled, Wade laughed “ha! You know I’m right! She’s perfect in literally every way!” Logan huffed crossing his arms. 

You came back holding a plate of cookies Wade pulled you down onto his lap grabbing a cookie shoving it into his mouth. 

You gulped “so um…can I….can I see your claws?” You asked nervously shuffling Wade held you still “no shuffling too much I haven’t got some in a while and the head downstairs misses you” you ignored his comment an stayed focused on Logan.

He held up his hand you lightly touched in between his knuckles feeling his claws under his skin “cool…” you muttered. He wouldn’t tell you but your reactions were somewhat cute. 

He clenched his fist his claws coming out a cheesy grin grew on your face as you hit Wades arm “look, look” a small laugh exiting your mouth “trust me babe I’ve seen them and felt them inside me multiple times” Logan glared at him “don’t word it like that.” 

Wade shoved another cookie in his mouth “don’t deny what we had!” You touched his blades “cool” he retracted them “well at least I can die happy” you joked.

Wade wrapped his arms around you squeezing you tightly “I won’t let that happen!” 

Logan looked at you and how nice you were, maybe you weren’t so bad after all…

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: I fucking loved Deadpool 3!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHH

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s child

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings: alcohol ment,

a/n: so i just really think that the concept of tony having the party kid as opposed to nerdy avenger kid would be a really cool idea to explore teehee. most of this does actually take place pre-avengers tho!!

prompt:

you we’re quite the exhausting kid

“is this really how it felt to raise me?” -tony

many of nights he’d find your bed empty, you’d snuck out to go have your fun as teenagers do

“yeah, boss, i imagine it was” -happy

you always showed back up in one piece (like him) and besides a little slap on the wrist you didn’t get much discipline

actually, it usually went like:

“so, where did you go off to last night?” -tony

“a party” -you

“really? didn’t want to loop me in before you snuck out…again?”

“last time i told you about a party you showed up!”

“uh—yeah, but it’s not like i went all dad on you and dragged you away or anything”

“yeah, you joined the party and offered to buy teenagers more booze”

“hey, they all loved you after that! and they couldn’t get enough of my classic dance moves” -tony, jokingly doing the sprinkler with one arm “but seriously, let me know next time”

“we’ll see about that” -you

^the above conversion went about the same every time

sometimes for entertainment purposes you’d try a little harder, throw a few pillows under the covers to make it look like you were still home to put a smile on tony’s face

“aw, y/n reminds me so much of me” -tony

tony was still partying at this point so you’d flip the script on him from time to time

“you were out late” -you

“what are you, a cop? leave me alone. actually, can you get me some aspirin and water?” -tony

“sure, one or two” -you

“make it three” -tony

he would nurse your occasional hangovers (what a great dad!)

okay, he didn’t always know when you were gone. he was busy a lot of the time with his own business and extracurriculars so you guys did just kinda do your own thing for certain stretches of time

honestly you could be a bit of a klepto in the best of ways

but only to tony and only for fun

“oh, great, where’s my car?” -tony

“which one?” -pepper

“the black one!” -tony

“be more specific” -pepper

“the only one missing from my garage!” -tony

“yeah, i know, just wanted to give you some more time to think about it” -pepper

“i changed the code on the lockbox like, five times this week. did they hotwire it?” -tony

“we are talking about your kid, right? pretty sure they just hacked it” -pepper

“i am…so proud” -tony

you MAY have gotten a few close calls with authorities, but nothing tony couldn’t handle

and up until tony’s accident, the phrase “you’re going to give me a heart attack” was silly and endearing

“you might actually give me a heart attack, y/n, give a guy some warning or just say please for god’s sake” -tony, now comes with an arc reactor in his chest

“sorry” -you

“what—huh—didn’t hear ya, wanna say that a little louder?” -tony, very sarcastically

i tell ya when he got that armor u couldn’t tell if u were gonna flip out at him or invite him to a party

or steal it for…you didn’t even know what

but tony was 3 steps ahead of you when all this came to be

and you weren’t very interested in weapons, still just parties and dumb fun for you

“dad, i dont wanna be a nerd, will you just let me go out?” -you

“come on! just help me in the lab a few hours, what’s it gonna hurt?” -tony

“my social status” -you

“might i remind you you’re a stark? i think you’ll live if you miss one party” -tony

“you’d be surprised” -you

“hey, i almost died! give your old man a break” -tony

once tony got involved with SHIELD and the avengers he got even busier really

and in came the parenting advice from fury, clint, nat, steve

“hey, i don’t see you raising a teenager, back off” -tony

*clint side eye*

steve once tried to give you a good talking to, but you reminded him a great bit of your father with your stubbornness

“you done? i dont think you should be giving out any parenting tips fresh off the ice” -you

tony was kind of proud of you for sticking to your guns

especially around such powerful people

but you had a knack for that and could do it to practically anyone

mostly because you felt like an invincible teenager since you were raised by tony, who also thought himself an invincible teenager at one point

u tried to tone down giving tony grief when he started having panic attacks

since u accidentally caused a few by pushing boundaries and staying out for several nights in a row

cuz as tony gained more enemies, he thought you’d be in more danger

which was true

“happy, you’re y/n’s personal bodyguard” -tony

“no!” -you

“uh, cool? any fun parties planned tonight? i’ll be the designated driver. god knows i’ve been tony’s too many times” -happy

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[senipsenipsenip]

Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.

"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"

He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"

Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.

"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"

"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.

"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."

Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."

"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.

"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"

Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.

"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.

"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.

Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"

Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.

"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."

"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.

"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"

Stan froze. "What?"

"My first kiss, do you remember it?"

"I was there?"

"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."

Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"

"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."

Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"

Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"

"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."

"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."

Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"

Ford turned redder. "You do."

"I do? Geez, I was a perv."

"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."

Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."

Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"

Dipper balked. "What? No I - "

"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"

"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."

"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"

"What? No!"

"Some girls like nerds."

"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."

"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"

"MABEL -"

The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Holy - " he choked out softly.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"

Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.

"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.

"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.

Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.

Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"

"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"

"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"

"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"

"You brought it up!"

"And now I'm putting a stop to it."

Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"

"Stanley, please don't joke about that."

"I'm fading away - "

"Stanley."

Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."

"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"

"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."

Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.

"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."

After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.

"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."

Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."

"I regret this already."

"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."

Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"

Dipper shrugged.

"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Body Insecurity/Appreciation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @roseblue373. 💜 It's a special one to me personally, being plus-sized myself and having gone through my share of insecurities. Wish I had one of these guys to make it better lol!~

Prompt/Request: Great job with the latest Dean/Beau/Ben reacts vignettes! I'd love to see one where reader has put on weight and isn't happy with their body, and how each would make her feel better!! IF the muse agrees, of course! ❤️

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to your body insecurity.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship, body insecurity (but also body appreciation), thicc thirty, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, spiciness/smuttishness.

Dean Winchester

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Because if you catch sight of your own reflection, you can't help but utter a sigh, your lips dipping into a frown.

In the privacy of the room you share with Dean in the bunker, you take a risk in unwrapping the towel from your body in front of the mirror.

You inspect yourself with growing dejection, noting all the places that are rounder, heavier, less firm than they used to be.

Looks like no amount of running down leads and killing monsters has been enough to keep you in shape.

Too much shitty fast food, too many times you indulged yourself with snacks and dessert alongside your foodie boyfriend.

"What'cha doin', sweetheart?" Dean asks. He steps into the room while wiping donut icing from the corner of his mouth.

Speak of the devil.

When Dean finally catches you frowning at yourself in the mirror, you inhale sharply and close the towel back up.

"Nothing. Just need to get dressed," you reply quickly. "Shower's open."

You try to offer him a smile, despite the pang of jealousy when you eye him.

He gave you the first chance at the shower after the latest case wrapped up, so he's still wearing most of his FBI suit, sans jacket. The white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, a few days of scruff neatly trimmed across his cheeks.

The man can cram an entire pizza down his gullet and wash it down with three slices of apple pie, not to mention countless beers. And still, Dean stays looking downright edible.

By comparison, you feel...fat. Like you've let yourself go.

You turn away from him to grab your well-worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt; you plan to change alone in the bathroom, but Dean grabs your arm.

"Who says you need to get dressed?" he says, popping his brows with a suggestive grin. He slips his arms around your waist, but your instinct is to shy away from his hold. You chuckle awkwardly and avoid his now curious gaze.

"Sorry, babe. Um...I'm wiped. I just want to get to bed," you say.

But Dean isn't fooled. His spidey sense is tingling, and his gut is almost never wrong.

His hand slides down your arm and grasps your hand, tugging you back into his arms. You utter a little gasp, but you ultimately smile at his familiar grin. There's a perceptive gleam in his eyes though.

"You know, seems like you've been pretty wiped lately," he says, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we, uh..."

He waggles his brows playfully, squeezing your hips. You want to smile, but you can't let yourself. You can't quite look at him either.

For Dean, it's another glaring red flag. His lips form a frown, and he dips his chin to find your eyes.

"Hey," he says. "What's goin' on? Talk to me."

His tone is so sincere, you have to blink against the sting of tears. Your lower lip wobbles, and Dean frowns in earnest. He presses a hand to your cheek and gets you to look at him with your watery eyes.

"Sweetheart, you gotta tell me what's wrong," he says, more gently, but serious.

Eventually, you're able to get it out. You can't bear the thought of him touching you, because lately, you can't even bear looking at yourself.

"I know I've been gaining weight, I just..." your voice breaks, and you gesture haphazardly at your body. "I'd get it if you're not really into this right now."

Dean's heart clenches. He's downright shocked at your confession, and more than a little disheartened. He presses a hand to your cheek and guides you to look at him.

"All right, hold up just one damn minute."

His calloused fingers gently brush away your tears, but his hands keep moving, slowly traveling down your body. They slide down your bare arms, skimming the sides of your breasts.

Your breath hitches. Your hand is still fisted over your beating heart, keeping your towel closed. His hands continue to move, molding to the curve of your waist over the fuzzy fabric.

"I'll admit, we've been pretty busy lately with everything we've got going on. But if you think that means I'm ever not into this delectable, sexy, voluptuous, goddess body you got rockin' the house?" he says, grinning that utterly Dean grin of his.

You bite your lip against a bubble of laughter. He's too fucking much sometimes.

Dean tugs you closer, until your hips fit snugly against his through his slacks. His tall, broad frame crowds you. His lips skim your cheek, then over your lips in a tease.

He squeezes the flesh of your hips, tender and sensuous.

Your heart flutters at the feeling.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

A small gasp gets trapped in your throat, while the gravel depths in his voice go straight to your pussy in a pulsing throb of warmth.

By the time he claims your lips in a devouring kiss, you're all too willing to let him peel your towel open, drop it to the floor, and guide you backwards onto the bed.

There he'll take his time, forging yet another mental map of every plush square inch of you.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a busy man. You understand that.

As Sheriff, his job demands a lot from him. He's also a father and has an ex-wife to contend with. (You knew that going in, and you've come to love Emily too.)

However, you can't help but start to take it personally when your sex life begins to suffer. He's often claimed being tired...but there's another suspicion that's been taking root in your mind, feeding your doubts and insecurities about how your boyfriend sees you, and about how you see yourself.

When you slip into bed at night, a kiss goodnight is all he gives you lately, before he's sighing deeply and closing his eyes, his soft snores soon filling the room.

One night, you try touching his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums at the pleasant feeling.

"You wanna...?" You trail the question in his ear, pressing more sweet kisses down his neck.

"Aw, sweetheart," he groans. "I'd like to, but I think I'd just smother you. I'm about to pass out."

You huff a laugh. You teasingly walk two fingers across his chest. "What if I make it easy for you?"

You shift onto your side. Resting a hand on his chest, you lean down to kiss him. He hums at the softness of it, but the more passion you try to imbue into each new kiss, Beau isn't as responsive as you would like. Eventually, you stop all together.

You frown, becoming disheartened. "You're not into this, I guess."

He opens his tired eyes, gazes up at you in apology. He opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it.

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

Beau frowns, sliding a hand up your back. Only now does he notice, with appreciation, the familiar silky négligée you're wearing.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

"Well, it is," you say. "I know you say you're tired, but I mean, you've had this job for as long as I've known you, Beau." Your eyes fall away from him. "So is it the job, or...is it me?"

Beau's brows furrow. "Now wait a minute."

The mere thought dredges up what's been plaguing your mind recently, and it has your throat tightening. Tears of embarrassment and upset well up in your eyes, no matter how much you try to push it down.

You push away from him and turn away, crossing your arms. You try not to look at yourself in what used to be your favorite lingerie.

You can't stand the extra weight you've put on, mostly in your hips and ass, but in your middle and arms too.

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself, along with making sure Emily gets to and from school, cooking for the three of you, going to PTA meetings when Carla can't make it (since Beau often can't), and every other proverbial hat you wear.

Beau follows you, sitting up and laying a hand on your back. "Sweetheart--"

"I know I've put on a few. Hell, more than a few," you admit, hastily wiping under your eyes. "God, I can't even look at myself right now, let alone have you--"

"Hey. You stop right there," Beau says, more firmly. He gets you to turn around with his hand on your shoulder. He doesn't like the way you're curled in on yourself, as if hiding your body from his gaze.

That, and the sight of your tears damn well break his heart.

He cups the side of your face gently and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

You almost don't realize it when his arms slip around your waist. He earns a surprised yelp from you when he gathers you close against his chest and rolls you underneath him.

You land against the pillows in a huff. You stare up at his playful smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement, with fondness, and also with desire as they roam over your breasts, barely contained by dark green satin and lace.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

His hand can't span your entire thigh, but it's not for lack of trying. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm at the way he looks at you, your breath hitching when his thumb dips between your legs, brushing against the damp, silky fabric of your panties.

"It's not because I don't find you sexy as hell. Believe me, darlin', I do," he says. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, especially when you're all laid out for me here."

And he means what he says. You know it by the hardness you feel pressing against your hip. You slip your fingers into his hair with a sigh.

He bows his head to press kisses along your neck; down and down, he noses at the thin strap of your night gown. His path of kisses continue, and he indulges himself by dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

"Filling out this lacy little thing so nice," he murmurs into your skin.

Your upset has turned to abject relief, but you still have to blink away the remaining urge to cry.

You let out a slightly tremulous breath.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask.

Beau pauses. He pulls away, just so he can look up and meet your eyes. He still finds insecurity in yours, so he meets you with a kiss filled with heat and intent.

He's now wide awake. He plans to take his sweet time taking you apart, inch by inch.

In fact, in the back of his mind, he also plans to do better about letting his deputies help him out more at the precint so he can have a better work-life balance.

(Because going a whole damn month without the taste of you is "no bueno," in his words.)

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The man may not be very patient, or particularly perceptive, but he's not an idiot.

At least, not about sex.

He knows that you've been feigning tiredness, and generally avoiding his touch.

What's strange is that you haven't been avoiding him. You still cook for him, still share conversation with him, still insist on having him spoon you on the couch while catching him up on the past four decades of TV shows and movies.

But when he begins to sneak a hand under your oversized shirt (an old one of Ben's), caressing your hip, then dipping down to your softer stomach on the way to your panties, breaking your concentration from the movie as unease laces down your spine.

You grab his wrist on reflex, instead lacing your fingers together.

"What's the matter now?" he asks.

You look over your shoulder at him and find him frowning at you, a divot between his brows. You don't manage to hold his gaze for long.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just, um, tired."

Ben doesn't believe you, and he's direct when he calls you out on it.

Reluctant to put what you've been feeling into words, you pause the movie and leave the couch (and him) behind.

Ben is annoyed enough to follow you (and underneath, he hides an edge of concern). The conflict leads into the bedroom, where you're still unwilling to open up.

He finally stops you from walking away from him, pinning you against the dresser by your hips. He practically looms over you as he demands an answer. He knows you're hiding something — something that's had you reluctant to let him touch you.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Shock flashes in your eyes, making you angry. "What? No!"

"Well, you seem to be getting your fill somewhere, and it hasn't been from me--"

"Are you fucking serious? I'm not..." Your lips purse. You're actually hurt that he would hurl that accusation your way--and it couldn't be farther from the truth.

You tug your long shirt downwards and cross your arms, but it's more like you're hugging yourself, shielding your body away.

Ben's brows furrow a little bit more.

Eventually you get it out; you haven't been feeling up to being intimate because you're having a hard time even looking at yourself lately.

"I know I need to, um, get back in shape," you say, taking in a shaky breath to try and steady yourself. Your throat constricts, the beginnings of tears stinging your eyes. You want to look at anywhere but at Ben. "I just haven't had much time, with everything going on. But Annie gave me this guide on some different diets, like intermittent fasting, Keto--"

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

You sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"No, not starve myself. And Keto's just..." The idea of trying to explain the new diet craze to your boyfriend is too daunting a task to consider. "Never mind. The point is, I have a plan. My hips, my thighs, my ass--"

Ben squeezes your hips at the mention of them. He happens to like the softness.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

You utter a shocked laugh. "Ben!"

He grins lazily, and he turns you this way and that, admiring you from all angles. In his eyes, he doesn't find a side he doesn't like. You can't help but blush hotly under his gaze.

"Sweetheart, do whatever you want if it makes you feel good. But you don't need to starve yourself." His hands move to your ass, squeezing a bit harder on the plush flesh.

A yelp escapes you; he's pressing into you from the front as well, and you feel him heavy and already half-hard against you. You grab onto his arms for stability as your breaths quicken.

His attitude kind of surprises you, even though it soothes the frayed, insecure part of your soul that wants to be as beautiful and attractive in his eyes as he is in yours.

Ben is literally a super soldier. You're actually kind of jealous. The man can drug and booze hard and eat whatever the hell he wants, but his super metabolism just seems to absorb it into his washboard abs.

(The more you think about it, the more you want to smack him.)

Nothing about him isn't hard and lean, muscle and strength.

Only his hands have a measure of gentleless when they're holding you like this.

"I've just got so many stretch marks now," you begin to complain, in an emotional whisper.

He snorts. "And? You think it's anything I haven't seen? I'm not afraid of a little cellulite either."

At that, your head tilts in consideration. Butcher's Granny Fucker remark comes to mind. You bite your lip against a smirk.

Ben crooks a curled finger under your chin. He guides you to meet his eyes, before he lures you into a lusty kiss.

It's somewhat rough because of his beard, but you still smile afterwards, leaning against him now.

"Ain't nothing about you that I can't handle," he adds, all smirking and cocky. To prove his point, he hooks those strong hands behind your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders. From there, he makes quick work of ridding the oversized shirt from your body, revealing you to the cool air and his hot gaze.

You take his face in your hands and bring him in for an even steamier kiss, your heart lighter and trembling with anticipation.

You've held yourself from him long enough, Ben thinks, and he has every intention of devouring you right on your old dresser -- before you two even get to the bed.

AN: 😮‍💨 I feel like each of these could've been even longer with their own one-shot loll. I wrote the Midnight Espresso-verse for Dean, partially to explore what his relationship would be like with a plus-sized reader. 💖💖

Let me know which one you liked most this time!

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)

If you would like to get notified every time I post a story, feel free to follow my side blog @zepskieswrites with notifications on so you don't miss out. 💜

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @riteofpassage77

@deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @sanscas @mxltifxnd0m @suckitands33

@kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @trashmoutth

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @tayl0rfanatic

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @everything-is-all-clear

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @sixxteenbullets

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

[xetlynn]

Hello!!!, I just wanted to request a Claggor x pregnant reader (in the good timeline), if that’s possible, thank you so much <3!

I had fun with this one

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

The Favorite

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: claggor and reader are expecting a baby in a few months. Their family come over with gifts.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare.” My husband stopped me as I was about to pick up a part of our baby’s bed. I sigh, lifting myself back up while holding the bottom of my stomach. “Claggor I can pick up a piece of wood.” I walk over to him. He sat on the floor trying to figure out the directions to put the crib together. It was mine from when I was a baby that my mom surprisingly kept. 

“Not if I’m here. What if you trip and fall forwards? I would never forgive myself.” He looks up at me with a stern expression. I roll my eyes, nudging him with my knee. “I’m only 31 weeks, I don’t even have the pregnancy waddle yet. So I am very capable of picking things up without tripping.” I fold my arms, a little annoyed with this conversation that we’ve had before. 

Anytime I even lift a finger I get scolded. I can’t cook, I can’t lift anything over 5 pounds, I can’t pick things up off the ground anymore. “You’re in denial first off because you so have a waddle. And second I am here so you don’t need to be capable of picking something up. I got it.” He takes my hand, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, whatever. When our princess comes out being a little diva that’s going to be on you.” I point a finger in his face, he pretends like he’s going to bite me.

“And I’ll be okay with a little diva.” He goes back to building the crib. 

I go out to our living room to sit down on the couch. I let out a bored huff. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and read? Who does he think I am? I’m tougher than him. I used to be a professional fighter. Now I’m some sort of wife with a great husband who wants to take care of me. 

My hands land on my stomach and I think about our baby who is in my tummy. What will she look like when she’s born? I hope she has my eyebrows. Claggor’s nose. 

A bunch of knocks sound at the door and I frown knowing I have to stand up from just sitting down. I grab the back of the couch and try to push myself up. “Sit down, sit down. I got it.” Claggor rushes past me, getting the door. I blink a few times, now annoyed since I got halfway up!

Vander comes into the house holding two baskets. “I bring gifts for my grandchild!” He laughs excitedly, I grin up at him. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!” I appreciate Vander, he’s been such a good help with setting things up for his granddaughter. “Ah, yes I did. She’s going to be such a spoiled girl.” He clasps his hands together after Claggor took the baskets from him, setting them next to me on the couch. 

“Well, we love you.” I smile, taking the first basket and opening it to see little blankets, a thing of diapers and wipes. “This is so helpful.” I start to tear up, Claggor sits next to me pulling me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m just so grateful for this. You don’t understand.” A tear falls and my body wracks in a sob. 

“She’s been crying a lot more lately.” Claggor tells his dad and I sniffle. Vander snickers, “it’s alright. No worries, I know how it goes.” He waves my behavior off. 

“Powder, Ekko and Mylo are going to be stopping by. They told me to let you know.” He exclaims, his arms over his chest as he speaks to us. “Oh man, they’re so sweet!” I cry out, hiding my face in my husband's chest. I feel him shake as he laughs at me. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He rubs my back up and down. “Sorry,” I sat up, wiping my tears. “Pregnancy brain.” I grab the other basket, opening it to reveal some baby clothes. “Perfect, we’ve been needing to grab some more pajamas.” I take them out of the basket, holding them up one by one to check them out. “So cute.” I squeal, leaning my head on Claggor’s shoulder. 

Not even moments later there’s a pounding at the door and Vander gets it. Mylo sneaks under his arm holding a large golden necklace. “Got this for my niece so she will know who the best Uncle ever is.” He throws it over to Claggor who picks it up in between his fingers to inspect it. “Yeah, she’s never going to wear this.” He deadpans to his brother with an irritated expression. 

“What!? I spent good money on that. She’s going to love it.” He throws his hands in the air. “Mylo, this is fake. Her mother is allergic to fake metal so I’m sure she will be too.” Claggor throws it back to the shorter guy. “Ohhh! He told you.” Powder comes in with a small box, Ekko behind her with painting supplies. “Here ya go!” She places the box down in my lap. “I made them.” She proudly states, hands behind her back. I picked up a light pink rattle. I shook it and it was soft sounding. Perfect for a baby. I look at the others and there were some teething toys along with a few building blocks. “Powder, thank you! This is amazing.” I grin up at her. “Awe, it’s nothing much. I’m excited to meet your beautiful bundle of joy!” 

Ekko wiggles the paint supplies and I point to the bedroom. “Thank you again, Ekko!” I call after him. “No problem! I’m so excited to do this.” He pokes his head out to tell me and I chuckle. “Also, could you clean this mess up? Or is the crib supposed to look like this?” He looks to Claggor who groans. “I forgot all about it. I’ll be back, babe.” He plants a kiss on my lips before heading into our daughter’s bedroom. 

Powder plops down in his spot, Vander reprimands his other son about trying to give a baby a gold chain that ended up being fake. I giggle, turning to my sister-in-law.

“You’re so talented Pow.” I lift up her artwork and her face flushes. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to get you guys for her. Ekko said something about giving you little toys. Then I thought about how I could just make the toys myself.” She explains her process and I smile. “Well this is a great gift.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle, trust!” Mylo tells his dad who scoffs. “You don’t even know what to get a kid.” Vander places his hands on his hips. “You’re right but I know how to make the kid look cool. She’ll be beating up bitches left and right.” He announces and I snort. 

“That’s why you’re not babysitting. Ever.” Claggor comes back into the room. He turns to look at me but then sees Powder in his spot and he frowns. “What? Why not?” Mylo asks. 

“You want my kid to be violent. She’s not going to be.” Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose, not believing this was actually a question. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be the favorite. Praise peace and love.” Ekko peaks out behind my husband and I snicker. “You are not going to be the favorite! You guys will eat your words when the first thing she says is Uncle Mylo.” He points at all of us. I hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing. Powder giggling with me, her hand grabbing onto my wrist trying to contain herself as well. 

“Her first word will be dada. Not her uncle who is an idiot.” Claggor argues, I raise my eyebrow. Dada? It’s definitely going to be mama but I don’t have the energy to join this fight. "I'm not an idiot." Mylo furrows his eyebrows.

“It could be Uncle Ekko. I top all you suckers.” Ekko says and now the three are all in a very heated argument about my daughter who’s not even out of the womb yet. 

Powder turns to me, putting a hand in front of my ear. “I hope they realize the favorite is actually going to be me… Gonna be so embarrassed when they find out.” She tells me and I grin. “You’re so right.” I nod my head. 

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

Gonna try to grind more requests I do have over 25 at the moment so be patient with me!!!! I enjoy this so much. I love seeing all the love!!!! I am getting sick though so if I start to slow down on my posts that's why. I can already feel my body aching:(

N e wayzzz, love you guys!!!!!

[fauxnova34]

The Ice Between Us

| Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When you a bored college student signs up for a beginners figure skating class, you never expected to be trained by Wanda Maximoff, the cold and commanding former figure skating champion whose career was cut short by an ACL injury. Wanda’s authority on the ice is absolute, she has no patience for beginners- especially one who seems to struggle with every move. Despite her harsh demeanour you’re more than determined to prove yourself. As Wanda asserts control over the class and over you, a complicated dynamic of power, desire and resistance begins to form. Will you rise to the challenge or crumble under wanda’s unyielding gaze?

Tags/warnings: Mean Wanda, dom/sub, fluff and smut, Age difference, mutual pining, Tension, Kinda enemies to lovers

Author’s note: This is my first series so I’m sorry if it’s not great, all comments/suggestions/critique is welcome but please be kind and respectful. I hope you enjoy the fic and the wild ride we are all in for!

You weren’t exactly sure what had prompted you in the beginning to sign up to this class. Maybe it was the fact that your college schedule felt endless, or maybe it was the idea of gliding on the ice seemed like the perfect escape from the pressures of exams and assignments. You’d always wanted to learn, but never had the chance. So, when a flyer had appeared on the campus bulletin board for extracurricular activities for adults, you had taken the plunge.

What you weren’t prepared for though, was her.

Wanda Maximoff. You’d heard of her of course, everyone had. She was a legend, practically a household name in the world of figure skating and on your TikTok for you page more than you’d like to admit. That was all until a catastrophic ACL injury had forced her out of the competition scene. Now, apparently she was here, in this small rink, offering to teach beginners like you. Your stomach flipped at the sight of her.

Wanda was standing in the set middle of the rink, her posture perfect, wrapped in a simple black jacket that hugged her curves, but there was nothing simple about her presence. She looked like she belonged to the ice like it was an extension of herself. As she began to glide every movement was sharp and graceful. She was without a doubt beautiful, but it was more than that. It was the way she seemed to command attention without even trying.

You shook yourself out of your daze and looked back down to your laces, you were hesitating, feeling the unmistakable rush of nerves in your veins. Was it really too late to turn around? But before you could make up your mind, her eyes found you.

Her gaze was immediate and it felt like a weight on your chest. You swallowed, heart suddenly hammering as she skated towards you with effortless speed, cutting through the ice with precision and grace that made your stomach tighten. She stepped of the ice in front of you, barely a breath away and your mouth went dry.

“You’re late” she said, her voice sharp. Her eyes were cold like they had already sized you up. She spoke up again “This isn’t the place for latecomers.”

You stammered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “I-I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised the class had already started”

“You’re here to learn how to skate, not to make excuses.” Wanda’s tone left no room for argument. She crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing with quiet judgement. “Hurry up and get in line. We don’t have time for anyone to be behind.”

The words stung and you felt the blush creeping up your neck. She wasn’t even trying to soften her tone. Her presence pressed against you like a weight you couldn’t shake. You were already wishing you could crawl into a hole and hide.

You nodded, unsure of what else to do. Her eyes didn’t leave you, not for a second. You were almost wondering if she was waiting for you to fail. “Laces criss crossed into a bow, be quick about it” she left you with before moving back into the centre.

Forcing your hands into motion you began tying them as she had said criss and crossing until they looks somewhat presentable tying them off with the bow before awkwardly shuffling to the rink where the rest of the class were trying to get into some semblance of rhythm. The other skaters didn’t notice your awkward entrance, but you could feel Wanda’s gaze on you, sharp and unblinking, as if she was waiting to watch every little mistake you would make.

The floor was slippery beneath you, and every step felt like you were about to lose your balance. But you couldn’t let yourself fall, not in front of her. You wanted to be good at this, needing to prove you could be more than another newbie just stumbling around on the ice.

“Don’t just stand there” Wanda’s voice cut through the space. “ Move, this is the beginners class, not the ‘watch people flail’ class. Skate, or get out.”

You froze, not sure if you’d been caught making a bigger mistake or if she just liked to keep her class on edge. That’s until the whole class seemed to stop and stare at you, and for a moment you just wished the earth would swallow you whole. But instead Wanda’s eyes locked with yours, for a fleeting second you’re sure you seen them soften, just barely.

“Try again” she said, her tone still commanding but with a subtle shift, something almost, expectant. “ And this time, don’t waste my time.”

Trying to ignore the way her words stung like a slap, you nodded. There was something about her authority, her control, that both frustrated you and compelled you. You knew she was tough, knew she wouldn’t let anyone slide by easily, but the more she pushed you the more you couldn’t help but want to prove her wrong.

Her eyes remained on you as you took another step, trying again to find some balance to glide across the ice. Every tiny movement seemed to be under her scrutiny and it made you feel both exposed and strangely…alive.

“Better” the word was still sharp, as if she were merely acknowledging that you hadn’t just completely embarrassed yourself. “But that’s not good enough. Do it again and this time, don’t think. Just move.”

It was a command and you didn’t even think to argue. You couldn’t, it felt like you were being bent to her will and you found yourself falling into line whether you wanted to or not.

You glanced around the rink desperate to follow the other skaters but they had already moved on. You were the only one still left struggling, alone in her gaze. She stood there, watching you, every bit the dominant figure that she was. And despite how harsh her words felt, despite the biting coldness in her tone, you couldn’t shake the feeling Wanda wanted something from you, something more than a simple performance.

She wanted obedience. She wanted control.

And for some reason, you couldn’t help but want to give it to her.

[yunwangja]

touch - tobio kageyama oneshot

kageyama feels jealous as he notices that the other karasuno members can be physically affectionate with you while he struggles to do the same, thanks to your hesitation whenever he tries to get close.

genre: slight drama? romantic angst? its kageyama being frustrated so ig yeah, also eventual fluff

tags: kageyama x fem!reader, high school friends to lovers

warnings/notes: swearing, honestly that's it lol. also THIS IS MY FIRST TIME SORRY IF ITS LACKING /,,,,: i tried my best for them to be in character too so if not mb >< also approx. 1.2k words

kageyama’s thoughts had been swirling lately, a tumult of confusion and frustration. and it was all because of you.

he found himself watching you more often than he cared to admit, noticing every smile exchanged, every casual touch with other members of the volleyball team that seemed effortless. midterms and practices passed in a blur, overshadowed by his own internal questioning.

why did he feel like you were avoiding him so subtly? why did simple interactions feel like navigating a minefield? happenings from days ago has been haunting him, your subtle movements away from him echoing in his mind.

he wanted to be closer to you, and understand why you seemed so distant whenever he tries to. only thing was: he’s bad at this. he’s bad at expressing his feelings and making a mess of himself, especially in front of you. how could he do this so naturally when you keep on backing away?

"y/n-chan! you’re here!" hinata exclaimed joyfully, bounding over to greet you. oh right, i’m in practice. kageyama thought and snapped back to reality, mainly because of hinata’s loud announcement of your arrival, and well, because, it’s you.

his head snapped towards the gym entrance, catching your smile as you exchanged greetings with hinata.

"how was midterms?" sugawara approached you and asked kindly, prompting a hesitant response from you, "uh, they were fine, i think. hehe." the third year patted your head comfortingly, "i'm sure you did great."

kageyama's chest tightened slightly at the gesture, his irritation simmering beneath his composed exterior as he focused on his serves.

"wow, tobio, you're as consistent as ever," daichi commented seeing his performance, with asahi nodding in agreement. you managed to wave to kageyama from beside yachi, and he nodded in acknowledgment before returning to his practice.

practice officially began with a three-on-three match: tanaka, sugawara, and asahi against hinata, kageyama, and tsukishima. you stood near tanaka's team and cheered enthusiastically as he spiked, "nice kill, tanaka-senpai!"

tanaka grinned proudly and threw an arm around your shoulders, basking in your praise. “it’s nothing, y/n!”

kageyama's frustration flared again. why can't i do that too? kageyama wondered silently.

he decides to lash it out on tsukishima, pushing him to block their spikes better - to which the tall teammate responded with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

it all started a few days ago - you were having lunch on the rooftop with hinata and kageyama. hinata was engrossed in his own thoughts, while kageyama had this plan to subtly get closer to you, unsure and hesitant about being too forward. he wasn't particularly skilled at these things.

as kageyama inched closer, you immediately noticed and instinctively pulled back a bit, nervously remarking, "oh, is the sun shining on your side?" even though the weather was perfect and there was no sunlight. kageyama glanced down and replied, "uh, no... yeah, thanks. you didn't have to move unless it's cramped for you."

"no, as long as you have enough space," you awkwardly chuckled, trying to ease the panic you felt and continued eating.

kageyama sighed inwardly, contemplating another approach. he just wanted to be more gentle and affectionate towards you, just like the others do. hell, maybe, more than they do.

while you were sipping your beverage, you happened to try blueberry-flavored milk for the first time. "this is an interesting flavor," you remarked.

"really? what brand is it?" kageyama asked, attempting to hold your hand with the milk carton while leaning closer to you, making his face close to yours.

once again, you panic and quickly hand him the carton instead, "i-i don't know. you can check it yourself." you stood up to gather your things, suggesting, "let's go now," with hinata obediently following. he urged kageyama to hurry up as he remained on the floor with the now-empty blueberry milk carton.

from that moment, thoughts began to swirl in kageyama's mind—why did you keep avoiding him? was he making you uncomfortable? did you not like being close to him? was he being too much?

walking back to your classrooms, kageyama was stopped in his thoughts when he noticed hinata subtly linking his arm with yours. "y/n-chan! look!" hinata excitedly pointed out a stall being set up outside the window for the upcoming school festival.

you squealed with excitement and both of you jumped up and down, holding hands. kageyama couldn't help but notice the contrast—why was it okay for hinata to touch you like this, but not him? was he doing something wrong? did you dislike him?

"aren't you excited, kageyama?" hinata's question pulled him back from his thoughts. he quickly masked his inner turmoil and casually walked past both of you, muttering, "i don't care", making hinata complain about his lack of school spirit, while you just giggled in response.

back in the present, you continued cheering for tanaka's team after your interaction with him, prompting hinata to playfully pout, "y/n-chan, cheer for us too!"

you laughed and nodded, encouraging everyone with a big smile. “do your best too, hinata! tsukishima, kageyama!” kageyama would normally be melting inside, but today his mind was all over the place, frustrated. this drove him to be set on winning.

i don’t need to be close to you. i don’t even need your cheers. he resolved silently (and pettily), i'll prove it. and he did.

as practice ended with his team's victory, everyone dispersed, leaving you and kageyama, since you were walking in the same direction. "thanks for your hard work," you greeted him cheerfully, but he merely nodded, avoiding eye contact.

trying to engage him in conversation, you remarked on his performance, but kageyama's responses remained curt. "you were really cool as always, but you seemed even more fired up today after seeing tanaka-senpai’s spike," you commented lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

"you're so petty," you teased with a giggle, but kageyama stayed silent, lost in his thoughts.

as you walked and chatted animatedly about a recent volleyball match, a bicycle approached unnoticed.

just in time, kageyama noticed and instinctively pulled you closer, holding your hand to prevent you from getting hurt. flustered by his sudden action—and the fact that he was holding your hand—you looked at him in surprise.

"watch where you're going," kageyama said gruffly, his hands holding yours intensely. you awkwardly laughed off the situation, "i'm sorry. thanks though!"

glancing at your hands still together, you attempted to pull away. “you can let go now,” you try to smile.

there you go again, he thinks. he’s been experiencing this from you for days and it’s been pissing him off. he’s had enough.

kageyama held on to his grip on yours. "no," he said firmly and looked ahead. confused, "what? it’s fine, really, you don’t have to hold my hand,” you try to assure him and continued to let go of his hand.

his expression softened slightly as he slowly looked at you, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath his usual tough exterior. "why, can't i hold your hand?" he questioned, his voice quieter but determined.

you were taken aback by his question. where is this coming from? you never really noticed anything unusual about his behavior—at least, not that you were aware of.

you try to stay calm for now. "what do you mean? of course you can, but there's no need to anymo—"

"that's a lie. you don't even let me touch you." he maintains eye contact with you. you can't quite grasp what he means yet, but despite the firmness in his voice, his eyes seem to be pleading, as if he's waiting for something.

"do i make you uncomfortable, y/n?" he asks while you're still processing the situation. you shake your head. "no, not at all."

"then why can't i hold your hand?" he continues. "you let the other members do it all the time, especially hinata. why do you treat me so differently?"

shit.

technically, you know why you were acting this way. you just never thought that this was something kageyama would even think or care about, so you just behaved this way naturally.

"i…" nothing else comes out. at this point, you and kageyama are having a staring contest. you want to go home—you’re nervous as hell—but he’s looking at you like he won’t leave until you answer him. "where is this coming from, kageyama?"

"hinata links arms with you, holds hands with you. sugawara-senpai pats your head all the time. tanaka-senpai has a habit of putting his arm around you whenever you compliment him—all of them get to touch you like that, and you don’t even care. but i just come and sit closer to you, and you back away already?"

honestly, you are amazed at how he remembers your interactions with the other members. to you, what they did was nothing to think about, but kageyama noticed every detail.

you knew kageyama—well, at least this trait of his; the fact that he is actually opening up about this means it has bothered him for quite some time. it dumbfounds you that these "small" things to you actually mattered to him—a lot, maybe even more than you realize.

you look down at the ground, breaking eye contact. "y/n—"

"you are right, kageyama, it is different."

"because i don't care if the others do it to me," you say, lifting your gaze back to him, a sense of vulnerability in your eyes this time. "but i care when you do."

you see the surprise on his face. "too much that it could kill me, honestly." he looks bewildered. "w-what? i don't understand."

"unlike the others, i…" your cheeks flush, and your eyes linger somewhere else again as you brace yourself for what you're about to say. "i want you to touch me."

this shocks kageyama, but leaves him wanting more answers.

"i want you to be close to me like that so badly, but it’s too much—it feels selfish. i mean, it’s not like you’re going to benefit much from that. it's all just for myself. i bet you don't want to do that, so i purposely avoided physical contact with you."

there was a few seconds of silence before he could even respond to that. "idiot," he whispers while keeping his head down, but loud enough for you to hear. you look at him, quite embarrassed that you just lowkey confessed to him, and now he's calling you an idiot. he takes a breath and closes his eyes. "why? i just answered you—"

"i want to!" he shouts, his voice rising sharply.

now, you both keep surprising each other.

"i'm not complaining here just because i think you treat me differently from them! hell, i couldn't care any less if it was anyone else. but it's you, y/n."

"i'm frustrated because i want to touch you like that too!"

he looks away, feeling shy. "i want to hold your hand and pat your head when i want to. i want to stand and sit close to you so i can feel you beside me. i want to be able to hug you when i score a point during a match," he pauses, "although i don't think you're allowed on the bench during a match—but that's not the point!"

he looks so cute, but this is also all new to you. you don't know how to feel about his confession. you don't know if this literally means he likes you (which you do too), but one thing is for sure.

you weren't being selfish after all.

"so, please, y/n…"

"let me. and don't avoid me," he says. "it hurts when you do, you know."

your eyes fill with concern. you take a few seconds before speaking again, "kageyama."

he looks at you shyly. "what?"

you respond by grabbing his hand, intertwining it with yours. "okay."

he looks down to see your hands together, and his face turns bright red. "you can hold my hand." he looks up to see your smiling face.

"i'm sorry for avoiding you like that. i thought you really didn't mind. and cared. thank you for telling me what you felt," you apologize.

he shakes his head. "no, you did nothing wrong. and i'm not actually mad, you know…"

"i was just frustrated. i'm sorry i kind of shouted just now."

you shake your head and start to walk again, letting your linked hands guide him as well. "no, no. i know. i'm even glad you let it all out. that's a big step, in my opinion, after knowing you these past months," you say.

he looks at you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. it's as if he didn't expect you to notice. you didn't show any trace of anger or hurt after how he acted just now—you even cared about what he felt. his expression softens, a mix of amazement and shy delight flickering across his face and looks away again. "well, that's what i'm trying to learn these days."

"that's good," you give him what he thinks is the sweetest smile.

you both continue walking hand-in-hand towards the street corner where you usually part ways—kageyama takes the bus while you head in the other direction to the train station. after your intense and revealing conversation, the rest of the walk is quiet.

"y/n," he breaks the silence, and you look at him, urging him to say what he wants.

"uh, you know," he looks shy again, scratching the back of his head.

"what is it?" you ask.

"i'm just saying this to put it out there, but…" he squirms, "you can call me by my first name if you want to."

you are taken aback first by what he says. after absorbing his words, you laugh, and he continues to blush.

"all right, tobio."

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 214

Adjective: Raspy

Noun: Whisper

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Raspy: hoarse or harsh-sounding

Whisper: a soft or confidential tone of voice, or a whispered word or phrase; a rumor or piece of gossip; (literary) a soft rustling or murmuring sound; a slight trace, or a hint