#he worked in IT your honor this man had anger before his life went to hell

[silvialightning]

Honestly (aside from all the atrocities he did with his powers) Yomiel is just a funny little guy for this. He does this and when asked “What do you want?” decides to ask for curry then claim it was too spicy. He did the crime to prove his powers. The little comment though, unnecessary, but on the spot comedy.

[redwolfxx]

if you died

(Gun x reader)

TW: angst, themes of death, mentions of religion

Summary: You die, how does he react

A/N: Sorry it's been a while, running low on inspiration. Was gonna add some others but wasn't sure on how they might react so I'll save it for another time. Lmk your thoughts!

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

Gun

If it was of natural causes:

He would watch your body in the hospital bed with an eerie quiet. His features softer than normal but absent of emotion .

He'd examine your face ever peacefully sleeping in the silence of the room, no mechanical beeps from the machines, nothing. Just silence.

He'd eventually leave you and return back to his place for the night.

At first he had no plans of keeping any of you, he was, at Goo's advice, going to remove all fragments of you from his life, the clothes in his closet, the shoes by the door.

But he couldn't do that to you. So instead, he went to your apartment using the spare key you gave him a while back. He quietly rummages through your apartment, taking the ring you would always fiddle with, the stupid photos you took at every photo booth you passed, he took a few more items, before he was done.

He stood in your foyer, looking around your apartment, it was quiet, and lifeless. Your apartment was always the opposite, your cat attacking him whenever she saw him, your plants everywhere blocking walkways, your gaudy framed artwork livening up the place.

But it was empty and painfully quiet. Your plants given away to trusting friends, your cat given to your sister, and your artwork given to friends and family.

He almost felt his heartache, but that's not an emotion reserved for him. He didn't deserve to feel emotions such as that, for he was a monster, a criminal, void of such emotions.

No linger willing to withstand this feeling, he left your apartment without looking back, with the mementos he took in his passenger seat, where you should've been. He drives back to his place and places your memories around his place. Next to that plant that you gave him that won't die. Next to your brightly colored IKEA drawers you put next to his dark mahogany one.

He isn't ready to lock you in a drawer, to leave you out back. Anger swirls inside him, because how could they take you from him, you have done nothing wrong in your life, you still had so much more to give this world and they took you away.

Why was it not him, he wonders, and he will never stop wondering. He never moves on, not celibate because he's not a eunuch, but he remains loveless, his heart reserved for you and only you.

If anyone brings you up in a less than honorable way, he rips their throats out. Nobody will taint your name, not even his, so he doesn't speak your name in public, to keep your memory pure and bright.

But in the dark hours of the night, as the clock ticks and the silence of the night is all to be heard. He whispers your name. Hoping it will bring you back to him. Even if in a dream.

However, if you were killed:

As he watched your body, lifeless. He feels his fists close, and his heart burn with fury. You had died alone, and likely frightened and he was not able to protect you.

His anger grows and his face morphs into one of pure unbridled fury.

Your killer had fled the scene, he did not know their motive, but he assumed it likely had to do with revenge against Gun himself.

He doesn't sleep, doesn't rest, not until he has the one who did it in his grasp. And as they beg for mercy, he reminds him he is the Shiro Oni, and since when was he known for mercy? With that, he burns their house to the ground, he makes sure that watch as he destroys everything they've worked for, watches as everyone leaves and they are all alone in this world.

Gun was never a man of mercy. He does everything in his power to make they're life one of pain and anguish. And only once Gun is satusfied does he let them die in the gutters of the world. In an alley on a cold rainy night, alone.

Once Gun has his peace he goes to your resting site. And prays to whatever God he can that you come back to him, or even to switch places with him. He could not live knowing you had died for him in a way, all alone, waiting for him to come save you, which he never did.

He almost cries reading your name, engraved into the stone, he almost yells into the night, cursing the world. But he doesn't. He carefully gets up, leaving your favorite flowers by your stone and he leaves.

He returns to his place where a box is on his doorstep. It's in your handwriting. He carefully brings it inside and places it on a table.

He stares at the box, curious and hesitant. He doesn't open the box for a long time for fear of what might be in it. Always looking at it as he passed it, but never opening it, nor moving it.

Eventually Goo threatens to open it if he doesn't and Gun pushes him out and locks the door behind him (Not that that will actually keep him out, but it's more of a symbolic gesture).

On a late night when he misses you more than other nights, he goes to the box and opens it.

At the top lies a letter to him, a handwritten letter explaining that this was to be sent to him should something happen and a letter expressing your love for him and your hopes for him to move on. Which he won't ever.

The contents of the box are composed of photos you've taken over the time you've spent together. Some of him, some of you, some of that bastard Goo (you definitely did that to mess with him). But there was also your most treasured ring which you never took off, your favorite plants with a sheet of care instructions next to it and a threat to have him killed should it die. There were also smaller knickknacks and mementos from your escapades together.

He carefully moved them around his apartment, plant here, random gaudy I ❤️ NY sign here, etc.

Once he reorganized his place with your items intertwined it felt like home once more. It felt like the home you always talked about late at night when you told him about your dreams and hopes for your future.

He would never move on, you were the only one he could ever imagine being with and nothing would change that.

Every night he would pray to whoever in hopes for your revival and return to him. His prayers would go unanswered, but life would move on.

He would move a few times, taking all of your memories with him to the new place, asking you if you like your new home, which always went unanswered.

He would die alone, as you had, but in spirit and memory you never left his side.

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi I got an ask about subby Criston and I’m here to fill it but I accidentally deleted the ask itself. So I hope you see this😭😭I kinda went cuckoo bonkers word to Wyn but anyways! Pookie bear cries and nuts like 40 times🧸🧸

Knock ‘em out - C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

WC: 3k

Tags: Boxer!Criston, Manager!Reader, Criss priss prob needed to be in an institution but now gets paid for beating ass, a little bit of manipulation from reader, marathon sex, overstimulation, sub space, soft domme, 🚨CRISTON BIG ASS PRAISE KINK🚨, he’s puppy your honor, Dom/sub, sub drop, aftercare, pnv!sex, multiple orgasms, intercrural sex, cumming in pants, lil bit of background story but mainly P O R N

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @sugarpoppss2 @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @moncherrii @bambitas @targaryenbarbie @fairysluna @thought--bubble @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @gemini-mama @valeskafics

Thanks @tumblin-theworldaway for helping my mind crank up heheheheeh

Criston knew he was off— something never wired right in his brain. Most people would interview him and see the rags-to-riches story. He came from trash, really, his dad was the janitor at the big boxing gym in the city. Coach Dondarrion told people they let Criston train for free as his father worked so tirelessly.

In reality, he couldn’t stop getting into fights at school. It was unchecked anger growing out of control. Criston’s mother and father begged Dondarrion to take him on and help channel that aggression. It likely saved his life. He was only 10 and beating kids’ faces in over slights— imagined or real. He was horribly possessive, jealous, and lost. Boxing seemed to put a lid on that.

Occasionally he’d have to be ripped off an opponent. Whispers of Criston Cole being a psycho were rampant. He was twenty-three when he got his current manager. She worked miracles. His everything— Criston loved the woman so much that sometimes it hurt his head, thoughts too intense to siphon through.

He’d known her from the Blackhaven gym, she was a daughter of Coach Swann and knew the realm of boxing pretty well. Coach Dondarrion brought her into the picture when Criston almost killed a man in the ring.

She didn’t bat an eye when Criston snarled and tried to intimidate her— only cocking her head and snorting like he was an unruly animal. He’ll never forget the words she said after. It was a shift for the boxer.

“Do that again and you won’t fight this week. I’m in charge now. You’re my prize pet. If you want to keep being a prize pet then you’ll listen to me,” she stated, manicured nail poking his chest.

The bigger man still had no clue what came over him, but her words were like a balm. This was what Criston needed— firm orders and guidance. He hoped at the time she could help him with all the mess in his head. Criston nodded and replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy. Let’s come up with some rules. You like rules don’t you?”

No unnecessary jabs, no yelling, work on riding the bike and going through footwork, and no cumming until he had won.

Those were the rules before a fight. Criston abided by them religiously. Even if he was like a caged animal towards the lead-up to the big event. He would feel himself grow more and more agitated— actively restraining from ripping his opponent's jaw off. Cole probably looked psycho, with dark eyes intense, jaw clenching. But his expression remained eerily placid. His manager liked that and said she could smell the fear off the other guy.

Criston remained undefeated, she must be right he thought. Coach Dondarrion said Swann was a goddamn genius. She was perfect like that. He hated she wouldn’t go public with their relationship, Criston would wind himself up into an obsessive tizzy over it.

But when he won again, and again, she was there to take care of him. They’d get through the usual press, Criston would shower, and they’d ride back to the hotel together. The air was charged in the back seat. She’d slapped his wandering hands away the first couple of times.

Now he knew to stay put and she’d tend to his face or scratch his hair, careful of any knots and bruising. It felt so fucking good the first time she touched him, he had cum in his sweats before even reaching the hotel. Whining and writhing as she cooed and put ice on his black eye or taped a busted nose— he couldn’t remember exactly.

His manager had cooed in surprise when he seized up and gasped, wetting the inside of his briefs, “Oh, baby? You came? Needed that, didn’t you? Criston Cole, my prized pet, big bad man, didn’t know you liked being loved on. You deserve it, baby, I’m here for you, always.”

Her words had simultaneously embarrassed and made Criston want to kneel at her feet, awaiting her next command. He remained quiet, cheeks flushing heavily, worried internally his nose would start bleeding. Swann curled at his side and stroked his messy curls.

“Don’t be ashamed, you deserve to feel good. ‘Sides I know you have more to go, gotta be pretty full from going a week. You want me to take care of that, empty you out?”

Criston gritted his teeth and whined. He wanted it so bad. The demon in his head teased and prodded him, spitting lies. “She thinks you’re a weak little bitch, you really gonna spread your legs and bare your neck like a slut?” the voice said. He moaned softly, pained from the dissonance.

His manager whispered gently, a small hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest.

“Criston, baby, stop thinking so much, and let me do it for you.”

He melted into her warm embrace, the proposition flicking on a switch he didn’t know existed. She smiled as he slurred out a ‘yes’ and went lax under her palms. Criston didn’t know at the time— that submitting completely to another made his mind stop for a bit.

He was euphoric, eyes focused on her as they entered the hotel. She waved off any reporters and led him by the hand. Criston clung to her like a needy child in the elevator, his cock swelled up again. The manager let him rut a bit on her tight skirt and giggled at his desperation.

When they finally, finally gotten to the room— she stripped Criston down and made him cum until he cried, all the adrenaline sapped out of his body. He lost count of how many times her mouth and hand brought him to completion. He got to float in his head, tongue too thick and limbs too heavy to do anything but whine and be coddled.

Criston woke up later as a new man. He felt he could breathe. Then the games began as his record kept going up, Cole escalating to the fucking top. He didn’t know what to do with all the money except buy his family a house and Swann anything she desired.

He’d won again. Shaking his fist and snarling obscenities at Strong on the ground. He’d get another fuck-ton of money and go home happy. He’d picked up the belt and grinned, elated at his thirtieth win. On the top of the world.

Criston’s mind began to whirl as he stalked down the hallway. He briskly showered and answered a couple of questions to the press. She waited to the side, sinful red lips curled upwards. Swann was wearing the red bottoms he bought her, pretty legs shown off in her little dress and blazer.

When she nodded toward the exit he followed, agitated at the annoying reporter still asking questions. Criston didn’t want to upset her, so he kept his mouth shut and followed along, pulling his hoodie up. His balls fucking throbbed. He wanted to fuck his angel so bad, maybe she’d let him on a special occasion like this.

He got into the dark luxury vehicle, inhaling her sweet scent. Criston was close to getting feral, mouth watering at the possibilities. Still, he remained mute. Until she shifted, facing him in the dark, eyes full of affection. Criston couldn’t help the thin whine that burst from his chest at her attention.

“Look’it you. Took down Breakbones, got thirty wins, fucking hell baby,” she drew closer to him, “Criston Cole, you’re the real deal! You wanna fuck me, baby boy? I think you’ve earned it.”

“Pleaseplease, yes, fucking yes,” he pled.

A stagnant pause fell over the back of the car.

“Thank you,” he moaned, “Thank you.”

“Good boy, don’t forget your manners.”

She placed a warm hand high on his thigh, massaging the sore muscle. Her other palm caressed Criston’s patched-up cheek. She hummed “A kiss?” He nodded eagerly, vibrating in place, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. But Criston knew he had to be her good boy.

The woman softly pecked his lips, pulling back to watch Criston chase with a sad noise. She smiled and kissed him again, deeper this time. He eagerly opened his mouth for her, shivering as her nimble tongue playfully lapped at his own. Criston’s hands balled up in his sweats— no touching, no touching unless given permission.

Their lips wetly smacked in the dark car, her hand moving up to rub maddeningly at his straining cock. Criston cried out into her mouth, hips bucking helplessly. She laughed and nibbled on his shapely lower lip, hand squeezing his manhood.

“S’all mine isn’t it? My cock, just for me.”

He nodded in misery, his body wanted to let go, but it was a bit of a process to get Criston in the headspace he wanted. She knew how to get him there. Like her lips against his ear, tits pressed against his chest as she purred, “Easy love, relax, I’ve got you honey.”

“Mmm- gods, need it,” he gritted out, dark eyes lolling.

As her firm hand jerked him over the sweats, Criston’s manager nipped and kissed at his clean-shaven cheeks and neck. She whispered, “Sweet boy, I know you are s’hard, relax, relax, you’re gonna get to cum all night baby. As much as you want, just gotta let go okay?”

She praised and played with him some more, Criston began to pant hoarsely, thighs shaking as he neared the precipice. She tutted when the car stopped, “Get yourself together baby, we’re here now.” He blinked, a tear falling down his cheek, bewildered by the way she left him.

He was so fucking close! The boxer sulked and groaned at his denied orgasm, eyes watery from how intense his balls were throbbing now. He wiped his eyes and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up again, keeping his head low. He hoped the half-assed tucking of his hard-on worked.

They walked in sync to the elevators. He sulked, “M’so hard it hurts.” Criston’s girl pouted her lips, patting his cheek, “I know, I know sweet boy, but we can’t keep the driver waiting. Almost there, don’t be so needy.”

Criston wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his face into her neck. He would be good, he wouldn’t hump or bite. He merely wanted to hold her for a second before the elevator dinged. Swann hummed and nuzzled back into his hair.

Onward they went, Criston’s mind growing fuzzier and fuzzier as his body thrummed with need. Upon entering the penthouse suite— her entire demeanor changed. She snapped, “Go get undressed and kneel for me by the bed.”

He nodded in little jerks, undressing and folding them neatly, just how his mistress liked. Criston shuddered as the cool air hit his cock, swallowing heavily as he knelt before the foot of the bed. His hands shook with need, his adrenaline still thrashing and pumping underneath the skin.

He was downright panting by the time she came out of the bathroom, naked as he was. Criston bit on his lip, eyes watering again. The angel laughed, “You sure are worked up tonight.” She padded behind Criston, winding a hand into his hair, eliciting another agonized noise from the boxer.

“You are so damn talented, the Warrior smiles on you. I’m proud.”

“Thank you, thank you ma'am,” he whispered.

“I’m going to get on the bed and you’re going to fuck all that energy and cum out okay?”

“Yes ma’am- ohmygods.”

Criston’s brows pulled together as she laid before him, legs crooked and spread, her cunt shining with slick. He growled, digging his nails into the skin of his thigh. She crooked her fingers playfully, “C’mon baby, you’re allowed to touch. Use me, my special pet earned it.”

He almost felt bad in the way he roughly had pulled her ass flush to his hips, the flesh smacking loudly. Criston had eagerly gotten on his knees in the center of the soft bed, slotting his swollen cock against her slick pussy. “F-fuck, fuck, gonna use you baby, ’m sorry,” he gritted out. She smiled and shrugged, moaning as he rutted against her a couple more times.

Criston’s dark eyes rolled up as he entered her velvet cunt, warm and sososo tight. He snarled as he snapped his hips into his baby. She was crying out and digging sharp nails into his shoulders. Cole knew he was lost in the feeling, rasping and groaning possessive, ugly things he would never say out loud.

But when legs were wrapped around his waist and she was mewling his name? Criston had lost his firm barriers. He rumbled into her ear between kisses and bites, “My godsdamn pussy, mine, you’re mine, I’ll f-fucking kill anyone who touches you, looks at you, gods I’ll do anything!”

He groaned, balls drawing up quicker than expected. She was crying out “Yes! yes! All yours!” Criston sucked in a wet breath at her neck, hips driving into her at a breakneck pace, hands bruising her pretty skin. He choked on his drool, unable to warn her— Criston’s orgasm was that intense.

She tightened around him when his cock flooded, absolutely flooded her pussy. Criston moaned and clenched his jaw, fucking through the oversensitivity. His girl dug her heels into his ass to spur him on. The boxer swallowed down a little mewl. Everything was still so swollen, he had to keep fucking, keep cumming.

“Mmm, yes! Don’t stop baby, oh Criston!”

“I-I am, fuuuck, g’nna fill you up again!"

He drove his hips upward, lifting her hips so that Criston could get at her g-spot. She raked a bloody mark across his back, gasping in delight. He rambled while thumbing desperately at her clit, “Yeah, yeah, feel s’good, cum on me baby, need to feel you, m’close again!”

Criston wasn’t sure if it was her gorgeous wail or her pussy gushing on his cock or both but he came again. She chose to mouth at his lips, shaky legs clenching around him, hand pulling the hair at the nape of his neck. Meanwhile, he whined Swann’s name, the quickness of his second orgasm turning Criston’s brain into jello.

The slick noises between them were loud and sloppy, he was stuttering and whining. She threw her pretty head back and moaned. Criston was finding words hard. He kept fucking and fucking. She felt too good and he had so much cum for her.

“That’s it, keep it up,” she grunted.

Criston slurred, “Ca-can’t stop, can’t, can't!”

He felt his eyes grow wet as his overstimulated cock was gripped and milked by her cunt. The angel, his angel, wrapped her arms around his sweaty neck, his hips forcing little 'uhs' out of her plush lips. Criston blabbered uselessly, words bordering on sobs now. It felt too good, the pain and pleasure were ecstasy to him. He bottomed out inside her, stopping to mewl long and high before returning to feverishly thrusting again.

“Oh, oh, angel- hurts- s’good ohmygods your pussy, gotta cum again, m’sorry m’so sorry!”

She nuzzled at his jaw, moaning, “It’s okay, doing so good for me, needy baby. You needed this, poor baby’s balls are so full.”

“S’full,” he agreed, mindless and shivering.

Criston’s thighs began to twitch as he felt another wave cresting. He practically wailed as the third peak licked up his spine— white hot and mean. She gasped, nails digging into his flanks, pussy pulsing around another load of Criston’s molten cum.

He was a mess, wordless and drooling. Criston began to move again, gaze unfocused and mouth agape. He whimpered, all overstimulated and still fucking frantic. Criston felt like he’d die if he didn’t stop, tears pouring down his flushed cheeks.

Her hands held his face now, her lips saying something. Criston slowly cocked his head, attempting to understand his manager’s words. She said it again, this time louder with a smack to his cheek. Criston stopped his movements, protesting with a weak noise.

“Babydoll, you gotta fuck my thighs, I'm starting to hurt. I’m going to turn over, okay precious? Got that?”

His lips trembled— Criston didn’t want to do that. He wanted her pussy. He slid out anyway, a torrent of white spend flooding out of her well-used entrance, seeping onto the bed. She marveled "Oh Criston, you still have anything left?" The woman hissed under her breath as she flipped onto her stomach. She tucked a pillow under her hips, giving him access to her thighs, slicked with their release.

Criston stared— unsure how to proceed. His cock was so flushed it purpled, aching horribly. He whined, frustrated with his stupidity, the man just wanted familiar tightness again. She sighed and reached back, ushering his knees and thighs to cage her legs in, forcing Criston forward.

He gasped in delight when his cock slid between her soft thighs, warm and wet. His depleted brain decided this would do. Criston’s thrusts were jerky and uncoordinated, he was growing too sensitive to go on much further. He kept at it, crying and sniffling like a babe.

“Awe baby, you’re hurting huh?”

“Mhm!” he replied, scrunching his face up tight. He had to cum one more time, he had to! Even if it was excruciating, the pleasure ramped up into nerves prickling all over his worn body. She watched him with lidded eyes, lips in a smirk. Criston exhaled again, throwing his head back to sob.

“Gotta- I gotta,” he mewled.

“I know sweetheart, so close, let it all out, you’ll feel so much better. You’re so pretty like this— all fucked out and still want more. Knocked your whore brain sideways. My cute slutty puppy, I love youuu.”

Criston folded under the praise, his body contracting once more, stomach cramping as he devolved into cries. His abused cock managed to dribble one little last bit. He couldn’t stop crying, falling back onto his haunches. Swann guided him down to shush and pet his hair. She murmured, "You're okay, all done now, I'm here, not going anywhere. Just breathe."

Criston’s muscles were all loose but the adrenaline had been sapped quickly. He was gutted— in a good way. Just couldn’t help the reaction, he knew it would happen after an intense romp like this. His baby curled into his heaving side, laying feathery kisses on his jaw, a relaxing hand at his diaphragm.

“That’s it, let it out, poor baby. Couldn’t help yourself hm?”

Criston nodded through the incessant tears, his shaky hand threading through her hair. He rasped, “I love you so much. You’re perfect.” He was growing more sleepy, settled by her kisses and glowing smile. He could float easy and enjoy the win, curled up with his lifesaver. Well, after she got him water and wiped down the mess. He realized with a smile— she had laid a towel underneath them.

She’d have to help him function tomorrow, Criston knew he’d be scrambled eggs, sore, and a bit grumpy. But that’s why they kept a suite for three days. After the kick off he would rest up and replenish. They would fuck sensually, cuddle, and watch a in some order of that fashion.

His addled mind conjured up a big diamond ring he’d buy for her.

[yellowwithalisp]

Okay so like like hobie brown x goth!reader???

Like idk it just works!?!?

( HEAVY BREATHING-

AS A GOTH MYSELF I HAVE TO DO THIS!!! - Yellow 💛🌻) (No proof read. )

• Ok so, as a non-spider. He meets you when he and his drummer are checking out other words. They were checking out The Spectacular Spider-Mans world first, then yours.

• Gwen wanted to looked around at some of the shops. Hobie was just following her around. They found a mall and a Spenver's in it and we're looking around when he lays his eyes on you. Holding up some chockers up to you neck and asking the worker which one looked better on you.

• He of course just casually walks by with his hands in his pockets and says.

❝I think the spider one looks nice on ya. ❞

• You blink and watch him walk be and up to a girl she was looking at sunglasses. Your friend tried to get you to ask for his number, but you were too shy. So you just stocked with trying to sneakily watch him as he walked around the store. He started walking in a pattern around some of the piercings and when you expected him to peak around the corner, he disappeared. You looked around where the man was supposed to be and didn't see him.

❝You lookin' for someone mate?❞

• He said from behind you as he gave you a heart attack. Of course you mumbled no as he had a light smirk on his face.

❝Nice snake bites. They match you're black lipstick.❞

• You barely manage to respond thank you. You friend was talking to the girl who came in with this strange man. You were busy comparing music and he started to help you pick out some new earnings.

• He helped you find a new outfit, some callors, earnings, and he picked out some spider patches for you.

• They soon checked out and he gave you a wave goodbye as he left. The slowly waved good back as you're friend was smirking and leaning over the counter.

"What?"

• She slid over a receipt with a number writen on it. It was the guy's number on it!!

• You two had hung out sencs then. You both have went out shopping and he's even crashed at your place before. Played his guitar for you.

❝Lookin' very peng today.❞

"Oh-um. Thanks?"

• If someone was talking badly about you from behind you're back he was put an arm around him and pulled you close distracting you with some new lipstick brand or something. Anything to keep you from hearing the words other were saying.

• He'll let you do some eyeliner on him but that's it. You claim you wanted to try a new look and be angered to hold still for it. Nice look. He approves.

📱: Hobie, was that you?

📱: Yeah it's me open up. I go' some food.

📱: Hobie it's like- 11:23 pm.

📱: Yeah, it's 11:23 and i go' some food.

📱: Strings, could you come over here for the night?

📱: Sure thing sweethear'. I'm on my woy.

📱: Thanks.

• He makes sure to check in with this worlds Spide when he seen them and ask how your doing every now and then. If something ever did happen he mmaayyeee have built you a watch just in case. Made it so it would match you colors too.

• You try on some of you outfits to go out with him and he just enjoys seeing you happy. Pucks up some random make up that he thinks you would like on his "trips". A Beetlejust eyeshadow paper? Don' know. He thought you would like the colors. Yes, he had walked in on you blasting Bring Me to Life in your room when you thought that you were alone. He even learned some Evanescence songs on his guitar to play for you!

• You wanna get a tattoo but don't wanna go alone? He will be right there next to you holding your hand. A small guitar tattoo in honor of Mister "I hate labels."

• you made a necklace of one of his old guitar pick. Your lucky charm.

[emilyprsblog]

Derek Morgan x Fem! BAU! Reader

Enemies to lovers trope?

Reader and Derek have never gotten along, since the day Reader had joined the team about three months ago. They could never seem to agree on anything, at all. Garcia calls it sexual tension.

The team is on a case, and it’s gotten really late and everyone is just exhausted, so hitch calls it a night, and they go check into the hotel.

For some reason (you can make up one) Derek goes to readers room, and they end up in a screaming match (you can decide what it’ll be about). which leads to reader saying something like “we’re work colleagues” and derek replies with “well what if I don’t want to be just work colleagues!” and they freeze for a second both in shock.

& then they have a really steamy kiss ..

It kinda makes me laugh

tw: a bit gory at the very beginning, (talk of a case), mentions of amputation and blood, minor injuries, a bit suggestive

wc: 2k

note: thank you so much for this request!! i was so motivated to write this one. also; since i am a girl i have a preference to write about female reader x some character, so this is an implied female reader x derek morgan fic, but i don’t think i really specified that in the fic? maybe? i’m not sure, but i just wanted to say that <3 thoughts and comments are welcome and highly appreciated!!

When you first joined the BAU you were quite looking forward to meeting the agents you had heard so much about. You couldn’t believe you had the honor to work with the very best.

You did your research, maybe a bit too much, wanting to make a first good impression and you genuinely thought you would get along with everyone well. You got along with most people.

Everything seemed great on your first day. You went home that day, thinking that you would be good friends with your new colleagues from your initial impression of them and you seemed to be a good addition to the team dynamic. There was one person in particular, however, that you couldn’t have been more wrong about.

“You could have killed him.” Derek spat at you as you both walked back to the rest of the team, each step away from the forest that would haunt you forever filling your lungs with fresh air you very much needed. In the mix of chasing a serial killer, fighting him off — which resulted in you now having a bleeding cut from your forehead and your cheek stinging with the bruise that was forming — and then having to make the almost impossible decision to amputate a man’s foot, was really catching up to you, and somewhere in all of this, you had forgotten to properly breathe.

“His foot was rotting, Morgan. If I wouldn’t have amputated it, he would have definitely died. I saved his life.” You didn’t bother looking at him, already knowing exactly what expression was on his face. A look of anger you always saw every time you were around him.

“The rock was dirty, Y/L/N. You didn’t think about the fact that he could’ve gotten an infection?” The anger in his voice made your heart ache. You scoffed, out of anger and hurt and maybe to be able to exhale in an attempt to cover up how much you wanted to cry. You had been nothing but kind to him when you first met and he had been nothing but rude and mean. He hadn’t shown you an ounce of appreciation or kindness, so you had decided — after a week of trying to be nice to him, only to be shut down — that he didn’t deserve your kindness either.

You knew that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. Or he was just intentionally trying to be mean. Probably both.

Taking a breath, you looked down at your dirty clothes before your eyes could make out your team in the dark from a bit away as you walked towards them, and them towards you.

You knew Derek wouldn’t listen to your reasoning, but you wanted to at least make your point, so you spoke, still not looking at him.

“Look, I know you hate me, but the very least you can do is respect me.” A few more steps and you could breathe out and be alone and sleep. “You don’t have to like me, just respect my place in this team and respect my decisions. I’m not stupid, okay?” You couldn’t resist glancing at him, seeing him already looking at you, a look of something you weren’t quite sure of.

Immediately, you tore your eyes off of him, looking at your shoes. “If you can’t even respect me, then just try to accept the fact that I’m here, I’m a part of this team and I’m not leaving any time soon.” You didn’t know if he even cared about what you had just said, but as soon as you took your eyes off the ground, you saw the team approaching you with relieved expressions and open arms. At least they had been welcoming towards you. Especially the girls, who you had grown close to in these three months.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked, cupping your bruised cheek carefully as she looked at you with concerned eyes.

“I’m okay.” You breathed out, nodding before JJ brought you into her arms.

As you hugged everyone tightly, really needing them after such a brutal case, you heard Hotch say something about checking into the hotel and finally be able to sleep. You exhaled, feeling Emily’s hand on your back, rubbing comforting circles.

Never had you been so relieved to be in a hotel room as you were now. As the door clicked, you finally properly breathed in and out. Letting the bag fall off your shoulder, the fabric thudding against the floor, you immediately walked to the bathroom, looking at your exhausted complexion in the mirror. Sighing, you placed your hands on the faucet, leaning against it as you closed your eyes, just breathing.

You almost fell asleep like that, feeling so utterly drained, but suddenly a knock echoed through the room and you raised your head, wondering who it was. Maybe Rossi wanted to check on you. You had grown close to him too, him being like a father figure to you and he always checked up on you, knowing how hard it can be to be the new one in a team. Anywhere, really. And hard it definitely had been.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you opened the door, expecting Rossi there, but to your disappointment, it was the one and only Derek Morgan. You found yourself just staring at him for a moment.

“What is it?” Your tone was harsh and you watched as he seemed to search for words. All you wanted to do was get into bed and sleep. “Why did you come here if you have nothing to say?” Derek took a silent breath.

“I just… I just wanted to tell you that you’re wrong.” Your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” Your fingers turned white from the hard grip you had on the door.

“Earlier… you said that I hate you.” He looked away from you. “I don’t.” You wondered if he was more tired than you were.

“Okay?” You didn’t know what to say. He looked up at you. “Look, I just want to sleep. I’ve had a hard day and you’re not making sense,” You sighed. “so can you just leave me alone?” A familiar anger flashed in his eyes.

“Are you deaf? Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m standing here trying to explain something to you and you’re being rude.” His voice raised and your eyes widened, knowing that he probably just woke up about 15 guests with his loud voice. You dragged him into the room by his arm, closing the door behind you. He crossed his arms, his eyebrows frowning in anger.

“I’m being rude? Are you fucking serious?” You chuckled. A sarcastic one. “You have been nothing but rude and mean and unfair to me since I started. That was three months ago and you’re still the same. Are you blind to your own behavior? We are work colleagues, Morgan, and you treat me like I’m garbage.”

“What if I don’t want to be just work colleagues?” He spat out, unhooking his arms. The air seemed almost knocked out of you as you stared at him with slightly wide eyes. He stared at you back, regretting his words as soon as he had said them. But he didn’t look at you with the same shock you had on your face. In your eyes. There was something else glimmering in his. Something you were too shocked to try to understand at the moment.

As you stared into his brown eyes, you realized that maybe Garcia had been right all this time when she occasionally whispered — not so quietly — to the rest of the team about the sexual tension between you and Morgan. And that tension was incredibly, painfully obvious.

It felt like hours before either of you moved, but as soon as Derek took slow steps towards you, you looked him up and down, your breathing still not under control. Time stopped and nothing felt real when he was almost overwhelmingly close. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him. You could feel his breathing cooling your skin as your heart pounded in your chest.

His eyes were dark and filled with lust and God, so gorgeous. They penetrated yours. Your own flicked between his and suddenly there was a slight crimson covering your cheeks when your eyes had accidentally glanced at his lips. You had caught the small curve of them before you looked up at his eyes again, seeing that he was smirking, his eyes shimmering. It was small, but with him being so very close, you had seen it.

He placed a warm hand against your cheek, caressing the purple bruise. His other hand he placed on your waist and your knees almost failed you.

“Tell me to stop anytime.” He whispered, his voice husky with desire as he lingered close to you with his lips open, touching yours, but not kissing. Without thinking, you took a hold of his belt, dragging him closer to you, your hips meeting at the same time your lips met. The air shifted; it charged into something intense. Your heart fluttered in your chest like a hummingbird as you both slowly, clumsily stepped backwards, your back hitting the wall. You felt your breasts against his toned chest and you never wanted that feeling to go away.

The only sound in the room was your heavy, shaky breaths and you placed a hand on his back, fisting the shirt he was wearing. Almost involuntarily, you leaned in more to deepen the kiss. Derek felt like heaven and his lips were divine.

Derek was still cupping your cheek, caressing, and his other hand traveled to your hair, gently grabbing it. “Derek," You gasped breathlessly against his lips. You thought the tension between you was strong before, it was nothing compared to now. Although, this was another kind of tension. A good one. More than good.

His tongue sneaked out to trace the edge of your lower lip. You opened your mouth, and his tongue caressed your own. The feeling of him caused you to moan into his mouth before you could even think about holding it back. Derek’s kiss was magic. It was frantic for you, desperate. His hand dug into your hip. You pulled back, gasping for air, "Derek, the bed." His lips didn’t leave your skin, falling instead to your neck as you both took a few steps to the bed.

Pulling away almost reluctantly, Derek sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, grabbing your arm to lead you to him, drawing you close again. His eyes alone almost made you groan.

You swung a leg over his lap and straddled him, your hand finding the back of his neck. His kisses fell to your neck where he continued his barrage of kisses, your head leaning to the side to give him better access. He took advantage of it, surely giving you marks that you didn’t care for right now. You were too lost in the moment and the feeling of his hands around your waist.

You felt his lips trail down to your collarbones, his hot tongue making you slightly gasp. He felt incredible below you. He looked up at you, smirking which only added to your already burning desire. You didn’t know if this was going to end up turning into something more, but right now, you were more than content to kiss him.

Connecting your lips to his once more, you closed your eyes again and savored the feeling of his lips moving against yours before both of you gently pulled away, breathing heavily, your chest heaving against his. You looked into his eyes, kissing the very corner of his mouth before you placed your hands right under his jaw, smiling at him. You earned a toothy, shiny smile back.

You rested your forehead against his, tracing his muscly arm, still looking into his brown eyes. He traced your hip and you shuddered at the feel. “Can I ask you something?” You quietly spoke, breaking the soft silence. He nodded and you pulled away a little. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” He said with earnest eyes. “All I know is that I never hated you, and I’m tired of ignoring it.”

[avalost]

The Hands That Held Her

@owlcatober prompt 17, Parents

fandom: Pathfinder: Kingmaker characters: Octavia, Clarida Della Fiorni (Octavia's mother), Regongar (mentioned) rating: T warnings: None

In a shell of a mansion in Pitax, surrounded by cobwebs and former glory, Octavia meets her mother. (1340 words)

Read here or on AO3!

-----

A ghost stood in the threshold.

Was it the moth-eaten, threadbare shawl hanging from the woman's bony shoulders that made Octavia think of a shade’s gossamer form? Or her wrinkled skin, sagging as if weary of hiding the bones beneath, longing for eternal rest?

Or perhaps it was the her bearing – tall and regal, defying the rags that clung to her – that recalled the ghost of a noble past?

When she spoke, her clipped diction failed to conceal the waver in her voice. “I am the Marchioness Clarida Della Fiorni. Welcome to my manor. I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you, nor do I have the honor of knowing you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Octavia searched her face. Lank hair fell across eyes the color of coal. A blunt, round nose perched above full lips pursed in suspicion. She had expected some part of herself to call out, to be answered – but this woman standing amidst the dust and squalor was a stranger.

“Mother…?” A hope more than a question, flickering uncertainly inside her.

The woman’s jaw went slack. She took a step forward. “Oct– Octavia? My Octavia?”

My.

The word scalded like the memory of the whip, and Octavia recoiled.

All her life she had dreamed of this moment. She'd dreamed of looking into her mother's eyes – emerald as her own, of course – and rushing into her arms. She’d dreamed of how it would feel to finally stop running, to finally know she was safe.

Instead, her mother – this stranger – met her with that word. A sharp reminder of the torture she had sold her own daughter into.

Why did everyone insist on claiming her for themselves? 

Anger flared deep in her gut, hot and sick and yellow. She crossed her arms. “Your Octavia?” she echoed derisively. “You sold me to slave traders! I came of age in shackles! And now you dare to call me yours?”

“Octavia, please! Allow me to explain!” Clarida took another step.

Octavia felt the familiar weight of a hand on her shoulder. Regongar said nothing; he only stood behind her, reassuring her with his presence. There was a phrase he’d said to her time and time again, and at his touch it drifted through her mind once more. “‘My’ as in ‘my heart’; not ‘my’ as in ‘my boots’.”

She exhaled. The anger inside her subsided just enough. “I'm listening,” she said, though her voice still held an acid edge.

“I… your father…” Clarida began hesitantly. She looked at Octavia and something in her seemed to unravel. She looked away, cleared her throat, and began again. “I met a visiting adventurer once, and we… grew close. But as soon as he learned that I was expecting, he fled. When my father – your grandfather, the marquess Giorgio Della Fiorni – found out, he expelled me from the house and cut off my inheritance. For three years, you and I scraped by. I worked as a seamstress in a small shop...” Her voice grew quiet then, so that Octavia had to strain to hear.  “But when Father’s health took a turn for the worse, and he realized the Della Fiorni line would end, he called me to him. He told me I could still gain the full inheritance, if I only… if I got rid of you.”

Octavia's anger blazed anew. “So you traded me for an inheritance?!”

“No! It wasn’t like that! I had – I had a plan to deceive him. I made arrangements with a man from the Technic League.” Clarida's hands flew out, imploring. 

Were these, then, the hands that had held her once, long ago? Were these the hands that had given her away?

Regongar spat on the floor. “Technic League…” he muttered under his breath.

Clarida froze, watching him warily before steeling herself to continue. “He – he was to take you to Numeria and keep you safe until my father died, then bring you back. I wanted you to grow up in your own manor, not in the back of some seamstress’ shop…” The last vestiges of her regal composure fell away. Her shoulders hunched. “But once Father died, the man from the Technic League said he did not remember any such arrangements. He had already sold you, and did not know where you were.” Her dark eyes swept across the room, taking in the peeling upholstery and dull unpolished wood. “Instead, I spent the inheritance that should have been yours on hiring sleuths and investigators to scour Numeria and the River Kingdoms for you. I knew you were still alive. I could feel it in my heart. My only wish was to see you, just once, just to… to beg your forgiveness.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. Clarida looked away still, not meeting Octavia’s gaze. Her eyes shone with tears, and she dabbed at them with the edge of a ragged sleeve.

Gone was the noble marchioness, clinging to the remnants of her crumbling dominion. In her place stood a woman slowly being swallowed by a room full of cobwebs and dust.

A mother, giving away all she had so she might see her child once more.

Octavia’s anger fled. “Mother, you’re such a fool…” Her eyes were damp, blurring her vision. Her voice broke. “You think we wouldn’t have done fine without a title? I’d have grown up, learned some craft… We’d have been poor, probably, but at least we’d have been together…”

Clarida exhaled. “Octavia… I regret so many things. I am so sorry for all that has – for all the pain I have caused you. If you never forgive me, then it is what I deserve. But… I am grateful too. To know you are alive, and healthy, and to see what a beautiful woman you’ve grown into – I will carry this with me for the rest of my days.”

The tears in Octavia’s eyes overflowed then, and she ducked her head, wiping at them roughly with the heel of her hand. Regongar’s hand was still on her shoulder, comforting and solid – and something else, something long-forgotten, was stirring to life inside her, warm and bright.

When she looked up again, a peaceful expression had settled over Clarida’s face. Her mouth quirked up in a faint smile.

A lopsided smile.

And all at once, Octavia saw her own reflection in those features. The mouth, tugging up higher at one corner, a mirror image of her own smile; the eyes, crinkling at the edges just as her own did; the brows – how had she not noticed the brows, soft and dark, exactly like hers?

A sob choked her, and suddenly she was rushing forward, arms outstretched, colliding with – with her mother. They clung to each other, and there was a gentle hand cradling the back of Octavia’s head, and she pressed her forehead into a bony shoulder, tears soaking into ragged fabric. Her mother held her, so frail and small and – surprisingly strong, her arms encircling Octavia, her body wracked with her own sobs.

“My girl,” Clarida whispered over and over, “my little girl. My little girl, you’re here, you’re home…”

And in that moment, that word Octavia had grown to hate so much – in that moment, that word meant something else entirely. It meant loving arms to hold her close, and gentle hands to stroke her hair.

It meant just what her mother said.

It meant home.

As they separated, Octavia’s hands lingered on her mother’s arms, unwilling to let go. “Come live with me,” she said in a rush. “At the capital. In the Stolen Lands.”

“Tuskdale? You live in…?” Clarida’s eyes swept across Octavia and her companions, filled with wonder. “My girl, you have done so much better for yourself than I could have ever done for you.” Another sob escaped her, even as she beamed. “Of course. Of course I will. I will start packing right away!”

Her dark eyes still shone with tears, glittering, and finally Octavia saw.

They were not coal after all.

They were onyx.

[doublejango]

Invitation to Blitz (Guest of Dishonor)

Hey Blitz, It’s that time of year again! You’re cordially (or should we say “reluctantly”) invited to be the guest of honor at the Annual Anti-Blitz Party on Earth. Yes, you read that right.

The event will be held on 31 October, and it’s going to be an absolute roast fest—literally. Your exes have RSVPed, and they’re ready to, um, "celebrate" all things Blitz. Expect lots of sarcasm, brutal jokes, and a few sharp-tongued jabs.

Body armor is strongly recommended, and maybe even a helmet this year. We don’t want you running away after the first burn!

Time: Whenever you stop avoiding us Location: Earth (The spot where your ego will be publicly fried)

So, bring your thickest skin, your snarky comebacks, and get ready to face the fire. Who knows? You might just survive the night!

Sincerely, Everyone who’s ever been annoyed by you

P.S. There will be cake—but it’s probably poisoned.

And just like that, the entire year of trying to heal since seeing Stolas at Verosika's last party evaporated. The months that had felt like fucking ages, the work he'd been so proud of himself for doing, it all went up in smoke as that same feeling returned--the dark, ugly reminder of what he really was to people, of all he was ever going to be to them.

Blitz was growling by the time he made it to the end of the invitation; anger felt safer than letting this keep on breaking him down. Before he could bite the paper though, a gentle hand touched his. Startled, Blitz blinked and looked up--Demetri had come out of the bedroom. A year ago, he'd been wearing that Better than Blitzo tee, and now here the two of them were, shacked up in a fucking hotel room like it hadn't happened... but only because it had. All of it had. Wordlessly, he handed Demetri the invitation, then went over to get a pot of coffee going.

The incubus wrapped a sheet around himself--loosely, prettily--and settled down onto the couch to read the card. When he tossed it aside and looked at Blitz again, he snuggled down into the corner of the couch, his eyes soft.

"How do you feel about being invited?"

"I don't--fuck, I don't know. Worse?" There were no filters. Of course there weren't any filters. Sulking, really not in the mood to chew his coffee, Blitz went to join him on the couch. He had only planned on sitting next to him, but when Demetri held the sheet open, Blitz sighed and crawled into it with him, letting himself be held. "Guessing you got yours."

"Yeah. There's a whole Fangbook group for it, and it's been a trending tag on HellTok for a few weeks now."

Blitz sighed and closed his eyes. I miss Stolas. Fuck, I miss him so bad. But that ship had sailed, and rightly so. Stolas deserved so much better--and for all Blitz knew, because he sure as fuck hadn't asked, Stolas had had better, probably with this guy right here.

"What the fuck do they want me to do? They're fucking stalkers. Yeah, great, they care, but that's the fucking thing--they think I owe them my caring back. They think I owe them my, what, my whole life? All of my fucking happiness? That they're all entitled to my fucking suffering or some shit, because they want me and I don't want them? Just because you can fucking stalk someone doesn't mean that person owes you shit. And yeah, maybe some of 'em... some of you," he amended, and could feel Demetri wince a bit at the word, but he didn't contradict it, "had a legit fucking grievance. But just wanting someone isn't... it's not reason enough to do all of this. Dennis is one of the bros because he's sulking he didn't get to fuck me when I couldn't have consented even if I wanted to. Half the people there, I never even shared a drink with or flirted with, I just... I'm fucking..." Anger abruptly dissipating, Blitz could hear the tears threatening in his own voice. A year of trying to heal, and what had he accomplished? Closing his eyes, he turned to press his face against Demetri's neck.

"I know, man. I've always known." Demetri sighed and rubbed his chin against Blitz's little head-spines, in between his horns, then closed his eyes and just settled in to hold him. "Can I give you some advice?"

Blitz didn't respond, but the little thwap of his spade splatting against Demetri's leg was answer enough.

Smiling sweetly, since Blitz couldn't see his face right now, he went on. "Don't go. Don't let them break you. They are stalkers. And they are obsessed. It's predatory. People like to feel justified--and there's no cheaper thrill than feeling justified in harassing someone they deem undesirable. It's a human impulse, one that unfortunately is pretty pervasive among our kind. I went... and until Stolas sang, I was hating being there. What you and I shared before--it was worth it," he said softly. "Or at least, I thought it was. I didn't realize how serious the party was going to be, or how many people were buying into the mob-mentality and the hate, or refusing to work on their own healing 'cause they thought, whatever, it's all his fault, and there's nothing I can do. And that's bullshit.

"I like Verosika. She's a lot of fun. But she's also an alcoholic. She's not over you and she never will be at this rate. She hasn't hit her rock bottom yet, and doesn't want to change. She stalks you. She whips this furor up every year... and yeah, some of her points? Are legit. You did fuck you. You've fucked up with a lot of people. But that doesn't mean you need to turn yourself over to them. if you go, these people aren't going to use that as healing. It's not going to help them. Even if you go and laugh and dance on the tables and it feels like everyone is having a good time--babe, I really don't think it's going to help anyone. And I know it's not going to help you, exposing yourself to all of that imagery and violence. If they wanted to heal, they'd be trying by now. They'll just get worked up all over again, and someone's going to get hurt. Physically hurt. Probably not you," he admitted, smiling fondly again, although a little sadly. "But you'll have every right to defend yourself.

"Don't go, Blitz. And don't talk to anyone who does--not unless they come to you, wanting to work on healing whatever rift is between you." Which was something he'd seen Blitz doing with people over recent months, and what had ultimately convinced Demetri that Blitz was safe to be with again. This idiotic imp was trying, he was hearing people, and being genuine with them, and Demetri felt good waking up next to him now, on the rare occasion he got to. "Yeah, it sucks. But you're allowed to live your life. Like you said. You don't owe them your suffering or entitlement. If people want to talk to you, they can reach out, right? I mean--I did," he added, laughing softly, but with a trace of pain in the sound. The last few months had been rocky for them--a lot of conversations that ached, not even because of their history, but just because of who they both were, where they were in their lives... Demetri sighed and nuzzled one of Blitz's horns, silently asking permission. When he felt a little nudge from it, he knew that was a yes, so he raised a hand and wrapped it around one of the horns, stroking in slow, soothing motions.

"Besides. If you go to that party, how are you going to go to the BDSM Club Crawl?"

That made Blitz laugh and sigh, his breath warm against Demetri's chest. After a moment, Blitz came out from the cuddle, moving both of them so he could sit on Demetri's lap and straddle him.

"You really don't think I should go? Let them get their fucking hits in? Cause, listen, just because they're assholes for the stalking and shit, doesn't mean they deserve to be like, completely written off."

"No. But the party is not the right way to engage with them, baby. I think that some people are... a little too impulsive these days," Demetri said, trying to soften his tone, feeling a little guilty for speaking badly of people, but believing it all the same. "Anger feels good. Being part of a club feels good, even if they have to hold on to their anger to stay in it. They like to believe that anyone imperfect is inherently evil and deserves to be harassed and shamed. It's their issue, man. It's not yours. You've been trying to do better with people, I know that. Just because someone decided to stalk you? Doesn't mean any of these people own you. Stalking does not magically give someone the right to own you."

Blitz cupped Demetri's face in both hands, studying his eyes. "You still in love with Stolas?"

Demetri laughed. "Yeah. A little. Or a lot. He's... pretty great. You?"

"Completely."

"You gonna tell him?" Demetri slid a hand up one of Blitz's thighs. It hurt a little whenever the two of them talked about Stolas, but it hurt in a good way, a way that felt right. Demetri considered Stolas his friend, he had ever since meeting him, and he wanted so badly for the idiots to get back together once they were both ready. His own love for Stolas was genuine, but it was something Demetri didn't necessarily need to follow through on--no matter what his heart claimed to want--because he knew he himself wasn't ready for anything serious yet. Besides, seeing two people who were maybe meant to be together? It felt kind of beautiful, kind of precious. He shipped the idiots.

"Yeah," Blitz promised. "Whenever he's ready to talk." Words that had felt easier to say last year--but a year of silence, a year of nothing? Holding onto hope was starting to fucking ache. And deep down, Blitz wasn't sure Stolas would ever... no. Fuck that. Those were thoughts for later. Right now, he had a beautiful guy in his arms, and Demetri needed love just as much as anyone else did.

He took Demetri's hand and looked at it, looked at his wrist. "You guys really never scar, do you?"

"Not on the outside," Demetri whispered, sudden anxiety making his stomach drop. "Blitz, that wasn't your--" but his words went quiet as the imp pressed a tender kiss to the place he'd used to need to keep bandaged. Sudden tears blurred his vision. "I know I can't keep you," he whispered, "but I'm happy to have you right now, Blitz... I'm..."

Blitz hugged him tightly, and when Demetri abruptly clung to him and burst into very quiet tears--quiet because the incubus had learned it was better never to sob aloud, because that was one of his traumas, something he hadn't yet overcome--he just held him, stroked his back, and let him cry it out.

"Come to the club crawl with me," Blitz suggested, when the crying ended.

"You sure? I don't--I'm not trying to get in the middle of--"

Blitz kissed him on the forehead, soft as could be, then kissed his lips, even if they tasted like tears. "I'm sure," he promised. "And you're not. Come with me... and I can show you pictures from my cult."

"Your what?"

"Yeah! I didn't tell you? Some sweet goat started a cult because I put the Mark of the Beast on him and chose him as my companion. I'm actually gonna stop by and check in on them all later today, if you want to--"

This time, it was Blitz who couldn't finish his statement. The incubus was laughing in delight as he practically flung Blitz down, kissing and kissing and kissing him, saying yes in between those kisses, laughing so freely that it left Blitz aching with delight.

Stolas might always be there with the two of them, in different ways and for different reasons, but it felt good, it felt so good, to have rebuilt their friendship, to have this.

Fuck Verosika indeed, and fuck her party. Blitz didn't want to live in their past. He wanted to live in his life--and right now, that life had wonderful company in it, wonderful friends, and family he adored more than anything.

It was a life worth living.

[alexsoenomel]

Grace and Immortality (Sam Winchester x Reader fluff)

Summary: Reminiscing on old childhood memories while on a case with Sam.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: death of a parent 

Word count: 755

Note: Wrote this when I was sad long time ago. Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

In the abounded theater where the ghost was supposed to be there was a piano in the middle of the stage. Lonely and old piano just waiting for someone to press its keys. You turned on the lights and immediately you have been pulled into old memories of childhood and pureness. You were once a happy toddler with a bow in your hair and a smile on your face. You liked animals and your old piano in your living room. You liked the melodies, the elegance and the power it had. When someone would play, everything would stop for a second. The melody would take over and you would be mesmerized instantly. Your dad liked the piano very much; he had a gift that would make anyone jealous. He was a cold man, only capable to express himself through his music.

****

“Mommy what is daddy playing?” You pulled your mom’s skirt as she struggled to mix something. It smelled like vanilla cake.

“I don’t know dear.” She said calmly. “I’ve never heard of this melody before.”

The melody was intense and filled with anger and sorrow. He didn’t even want to look at you. He wanted to pass the gift he had so he would teach you how the magic box worked while you were in his lap but this time was different.

Who knew that would be the last time he played. That day he got back from the doctors knowing how his life was going to end.  

******

Feeling the sharp pain in your gut you quickly snapped back into a dull reality. “Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. You go backstage? I will cover the rest.”

“Sure.”

When he was out of your sight you went on the stage to take a closer look. It seemed like someone still loved that piano. It was black and still shining, you hoped it still worked. You sat on the little leather piano bench and opened the fall board. It seemed like you were reunited with your old friend. You took a deep breath and decided to try; years had passed ever since you last touched the keyboard. You cracked your long and delicate fingers while your foot was on one of the pedals.

The first song that came to your mind was Somebody to love by Queen. Your mom loved that song. You weren’t sure if you still remembered how it goes but as you pressed the first key, everything was right again. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. You were in your own little word remembering all of those happy times with your family. Your body relaxed as your fingers created magic. Little did you know someone was watching and carefully listening. Sam didn’t know your love for piano and he was deeply surprised to see you so gracefully lost in the melody.

Suddenly you put your fingers down. The melody was lost.

“That was beautiful.” Sam said making you jump a little.

“Huh.” You turned around to look at him. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sat right next to you. “Since when do you know how to play piano?”

Avoiding his gaze you said. “My dad used to play all the time when I was little, he wanted me to be a pianist, but he got sick before he could teach me everything and died, so my mom decided to honor him and teach me instead, since she was once a piano teacher.”

“You have never told me about your dad (Y/N), I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah I know, I now remember how much I miss him even though all memories of him are vague.”

“Sometimes I wish all of this is just a bad dream. You would have been a great pianist.”

“But then we wouldn’t have met.” You said and pressed your lips against his. His hand cupped your cheek kissing you back instantly. When you broke the kiss you mumbled, as you rested your forehead against his. “I love you Sam.”

“More than anything. Will you play something again? Please?”

“Okay.” You smiled. “I wrote this when I was 16. I hope I still remember how it goes.” Of course you did…

As you started to play Sam watched you, remembering how much he truly loved you. The melody was slow and relaxing slowly taking you and Sam to a whole new world.  

Right behind you was a shadow, vague and tall. It was a man watching his daughter doing what he loved the most- create magic with music.

[bittersweetblasphemy]

hey sorry you're sick bud. what's your oc with the most tragic backstory? vs an oc with a relatively chill past?

the most tragic? woof that's a tough one. and i'm gonna use it as an opportunity to infodump about a lot of OCs lol

most of my characters have at least some level of trauma. i mean just going through my works (and not touching reader characters):

your First Mate in LLTQ comes from a species known for stealing people away to use as brood queens and where said Queens are usually not consenting, then was sent off to perpetuate that same cycle completely alone for the first time in his life. one has to wonder what he went through to decide your consent actually mattered to him.

Hulo was once a human man whose literal humanity was slowly stripped from his soul and eaten over the course of decades

David's no-contact with his family. mom was neglectful from the beginning and cares more about his half-siblings than him. step-dad is some ex-military jackoff who thinks he's a loser who will never amount to anything. doesn't have many memories of his bio dad who just up and left when he was three

Brizeth and Colovan i won't say much about bc i'm actually going to talk about this in the next chapter for B&D. what i will say is that their childhood was fucked up but also a completely normal childhood for demons like them, so is it really that tragic? 🤔 (and bc im sure people's minds are going there, no, there is no CSA involved despite them being concubi)

Adrian is a fallen angel whose anger got his wings ripped off

Hector watched his first love die

Malak is the bastard child of a palace concubine who very conveniently isn't around anymore so you do the math

Tuq left his herd to live completely on his own due to rampant transphobia

Sasha got his scars from attempted murder via arson by homophobic wannabe monster hunters who were hoping to kill him and Theodore

Viktor's big sister, who he looked up to, was killed by a werewolf hunter

the imps in QR paint a pretty clear picture of the hell (literally and figuratively) they'd lived through before being taken in by Horace

where do i even start with Arro? [1][2][3][4]

but ultimately if i had to pick, i think i'd pick Gage. they were kidnapped and sold into forced sex work where all of their memories of their prior life were completely wiped, effectively factory reset, and they frequently deal with trauma by just erasing memories they can't handle. this includes deleting any knowledge of entire people and friendships because they were either killed or committed suicide, and Gage would rather forget than deal with the pain of missing them.

and while they may not have those direct traumatic memories haunting them, they're perfectly aware of the gaps in their memory and what they mean, which just strikes me as particularly sad.

Chill backstories? I mean,

Willow had a normal childhood and learned her love of gardening from her mom and dad, who she has a good relationship with

Marius came from a decently well off family and just liked having sex enough to make a profession of it

Ahlex grew up in a world with UBI, Universal Healthcare, and where there's always plenty of food and fresh water to go around, so despite being raised by his single disabled mother, he had a pretty easy time growing up

Marble and Button were childhood friends that fell in love as they got older

ignoring the tragedy that led to his current position as Malak's guard, Bic had a great childhood and was being mentored to be a clan storyteller, which is a very highly respected position in goblin clan hierarchy

Nina lived a comfortable life with her mother and father, who taught her the art of monster hunting and also impressed upon her the importance of the honor code she still lives by.

anyone else who i haven't listed either has their chill backstories at least alluded to in their fic (like Melia), or i just haven't given them a backstory yet

[oakthcrn]

🎬

Send 🎬 for a random scene in my muse's life.

accepting @korzion

It was bitterly cold in the rural villages of Fjerda. Traveling with General Kirigan and his platoon of much older grisha was an honor. That was what she was told by her elders. She was the first girl of her age to see actual combat, but there weren't any Fjerdan soldiers, just some old fishing village.

Lark sniffled as the chill chaffed her nose, and left it red in its wake. Her wool hat was secured to her head while she wore thick mittens--all gifts from her mother. While she had doted on Lark before they left, she couldn't help but notice the morose gaze in her eyes.

She reassured her mother that she would return and that it was just a field trip. She was in her eleventh year, and she was old enough to be useful to the Second Army. After all, it was just a field trip.

She did have to wonder if they were there to convince the Fjerdan people that Grisha wasn't so bad. Perhaps they were diplomats, that was a big part of it, right?

Lark strolled alongside General Kirigan as they traveled through the village's residential area. Lark happened to glance at a house plaque with the name Helvar written on it. She glanced up at the tall general, so lost in his own thoughts, his face somber and stoic. She canted her head curiously and wondered what he was thinking about. She looked ahead and blinked when they marched out of the village without engaging with a single villager, in fact, the villagers seemed to skitter into their homes. The doors slammed and curtains were drawn. She frowned a bit. They were there to help?

They walked until they were out of the village and quite bit away from it. She suddenly felt a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her from walking away. Lark glanced up to see General Kirigan.

" Larkspur. " His voice was deep and sent a nervous shiver down her spine. The man was intimidating. She wondered if he knew how scary he was.

" Y-Yes General? "

" I am told that you out of all the infernis can throw your fire the farthest. Even my seasoned infernis have trouble keeping up with you. "

Lark felt her cheeks flush as she stood there fidgeting with her knitted scarf.

"O-Only in games and training. "

" I need you to show me. Do you see that thatched roof there in the distance? Aim for it. "

Dread struck her like a slap to the face. She gazed out to the distance, and it sank and knotted in her stomach.

" I-If I do, the roof will catch fire, it will set the village on fire because of the wind. "

She dared to glance up to see his face contorted in some semblance of irritation and disappointment. It struck her in the chest and made her ache.

" Larkspur." He spoke, his voice laced with ice and it made Lark stand a bit straighter. " You must understand that if I give you an order, you must follow it. If you do not, it will reflect poorly on your mother. "

Lark felt her face blanch. Perhaps she didn't understand fully the subtlety of his words, but she knew a threat when she heard it. Her face scrunched up as hot tears pricked her eyes as she worked off her wool mitten. She bit back a sob as she summoned her fire and flung it. It met its mark and she watched with horror as the thatched roof went up in flames, it danced along the roofs and after a while, she watched as the whole village was engulfed with fire--her fire. The wind carried the terrified screams of the villagers.

Fear was suddenly replaced with anger--rage as she stared up at the Darkling with every ounce of hate she could muster. This wasn't a field trip or a diplomatic mission like she thought. This was a slaughter. Lark stood there, even when the Darkling moved away to return to their camp, she stood there and watched the destruction she had reaped.

[hello-nichya-here]

Guys, I don't think this is a fair way to look at Zuko's ending at all (at least if we only take the original show into consideration since the comics and Korra ruin nearly everything about the story).

The Gaang might have a ton of responsibilities and different things going on, but since when has that ever stopped them from goofing off together or supporting each other emotionally? Sure, they won't be able to be there for Zuko ALL the time, but that doesn't have to mean rarely ever seeing him or always being guaranteed to not be able to show up in the Fire Nation to hang out or give him a helping hand.

His romance with Mai is also not that volatile anymore. Mai learned to open up a bit more, Zuko is trying to work on his anger issues. The only fight they had after The Beach was because Zuko felt he had to break up with her to not drag her into he mess that was going to be his life once he joined the Avatar. In Nightmares and Daydreams we even see her being his support system.

I do agree that Iroh should have probably stuck around a little longer to help Zuko adjust to his new life, emotional support is always good, but come on, since when has Zuko hesitated to ask his uncle for help when he doesn't know what to do? And the one time Iroh refused him was when Zuko had actively stabbed him in the back. He'd absolutely take some breaks from his tea-shop to help out the nephew that he canonically sees as a son.

Also the notion that Zuko didn't actually want to be Fire Lord, and that Iroh "groomed/forced" him into is not just absurd, it's laughable. The show made it very clear super early on that this was what Zuko had always wanted and that Iroh was AGAINST it, at least in book 2.

He is banished because he spoke out against a cruel plan that would betray/sacrifice honorable, loyal soldiers. He explicitly tells Mai that he is turning his back on his father because he wants to SAVE the Fire Nation. He and Aang are direct parallels to Sozin and Roku.

He sees himself as Fire Lord in one of his dreams. He calls himself heir to the throne when remembering his mother's words of "Never forget who you are." When it looks like Zhao might capture Aang before he does, Zuko says "My honor, my throne, my country, I'm about to lose them all"

And more importantly, when Iroh is trying to get him to embrace a the simply life in Ba Sing Se it leads to this conversation in which Zuko rightfully calls his uncle out.

Iroh: We have a chance for a new life here. If you start stirring up trouble, we could lose all the good things that are happening for us. Zuko: Good things that are happening for you! Have you ever thought that I want more from life than a nice apartment and a job serving tea? Iroh: There is nothing wrong with a life of peace and prosperity. I suggest you think about what it is that you want from your life and why. Zuko: I want my destiny. Iroh: What that means is up to you.

It IS up to Zuko. And he made his choice when he left Ba Sing Se without ever looking back, and actively throwing Iroh under the bus despite loving the old man so much, because HE WANTS THAT FUCKING CROWN! He has ALWAYS wanted it - he fought his own sibling for it and nearly died in the process, that's how bad he wanted it.

And Iroh is not listening. Sure, he means well because he knows that Zuko becoming Fire Lord could mean becoming another Ozai, something Zuko himself later realized he could do without, but the point still stands: Iroh's hypocricy/unwilliness to listen to what his nephew was saying was not in the finale, but in the Ba Sing Se arc.

Iroh didn't tell Zuko to be Fire Lord as some careless or selfish decision, but because he FINALLY realized that he can't force Zuko not to want to that throne. And Zuko only hesitated because "I've made so many mistakes" aka he was unsure if he was WORTHY of it after all the bullshit he pulled to avoid losing it.

Zuko went through a lot of hardship in his life. But now his abuser can't hurt him anymore, he has a girlfriend he loves, great friends, a father figure that is finally respecting his choices, the possibility of being reunited with his mother (and of reconciling with his sister, according Ehasz), and the throne he had been wanting so bad.

Could he use an advisor to help him deal with politics? Yes, especially if said advisor is NOT Iroh. And hopefully he can also get that world's equivalent of a therapist to process all the trauma he endured. It'd be nice.

But this is far from a sad ending. This is the happiest he's been in years - maybe even in his entire life. It's only up-hill from here, folks. Let's calm down.

I’ll be honest, I don’t think Zuko gets a happy ending in the show.  His family is completely broken and the one person in it who he has a semi-decent relationship with abandons him and fucks off to set up a tea shop half the world away in a city he laid siege to for 600 days. Sure, Zuko’s made friends with the Gaang, but they have their own lives, responsibilities, and families, so they’re not going to stick around in the Fire Nation. This leaves Mai being the only person in a thousand mile radius who actually gives a fuck about Zuko, and we know how volatile the Maiko relationship can be.  

Zuko never really had chance to figure out who he was and what truly made him truly happy life, instead having Iroh dump the responsibility of Firelord on him and Zuko dedicating his life to it to please Iroh(the series even suggests that Zuko might be happiest as a humble waiter!).  And of course, not only his unprepared to be Firelord, but he also faces an incredibly difficult task–”fixing” the Fire Nation–which would try even the most capable and prepared of rulers. He’s not in for a good time at all.

I want Zuko to have a happy ending. I just don’t think he really gets one in canon.

[newestwhiteboyobsession]

Two Shots of Vodka - Takami Keigo / Hawks x (f) Reader

In honor of me crying over the first episode of season 6, here's some Hawks fluff! Written in second person, which I don't usually write in so it may be a bit wonky. Yes the title is a reference to that one vine. Enjoy!

Warning(s)- mentions of alcohol, slight angst I guess

When you got a knock at your door at 1 in the morning, the last person you expected to see was your ex-boyfriend.

You and Keigo had been broken up for almost two weeks now, after being together for three years. Things were going great in the beginning, but as time went on, and Keigo spent more and more time away for work, tensions rose, and you ended up breaking up.

You looked at the man leaning against the frame of your doorway, reeking of alcohol. He moved to stand up straight but wobbled and fell back against the doorway.

You sighed, “Keigo, you're going to hurt yourself.” You moved to help him but he waved you back.

“Oh, so NOW I’m Keigo to you??” He demanded, a mixture of anger and hurt in his golden eyes. You tilted your head in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He leaned his forehead against the doorframe and closed his eyes, “Y-you told me I wasn't Hawks to you. You told me- you told me I was Keigo to you.”

You hesitated, hearing the pain in his voice. You moved forward and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leaning his weight onto you. “C’mon, Kei. Let's get you to bed, we can talk about it in the morning.” You said gently, leading him to the bedroom.

He squirmed in your hold, “I wanna… talk now.” He said tiredly, “I miss you.” You let him fall onto the bed, and he instantly curled up, shielding himself with his wings. You began to walk away until you felt a hand wrap around your wrist. “Don’t go.” He whined quietly, eyes shining with unshed tears.

Your eyes softened as you sat down next to him. He placed his head in your lap as you threaded your fingers through his unruly blonde hair. “I’m gonna go get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back. Promise.” You said, gently lifting his head and putting his head on the pillow as he closed his eyes and nodded. When you returned to the room with pain pills and a glass of water, he was snoring softly. You smiled sadly and put the items down on the nightstand. You brushed his bangs out of his eyes; his wings ruffled at the pleasant sensation.

“I’m sorry, Kei. For everything.” You kissed his forehead, “Sleep well. I love you.”

You gently placed a blanket over his and left the room to sleep on the couch.

_________              _________           ________

Keigo woke up with a pounding headache. He groaned at the light streaming into the room, and pulled the blanket over his head. His eyes shot open at the familliar smell, and he sat up as he painfully remembered the events of last night.

He noticed the glass of water and bottle of pills on the nightstand and gratefully took them. He rubbed his eyes and got up, stretching out his wings and slightly stumbling out of the bedroom and into the living room.

“Theres tea if you want some.” You said from the couch, gesturing towards the kitchen, not bothering to turn around to face him.

Keigo hesitated slightly, before walking over to where you sat.

You watched as he sat down on the couch slowly, sharp eyes looking anywhere but at you.

It was strange, to see the normally confident number two pro hero so meek and hesitant.

He tapped his knee, and took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.” He started, still not looking at you, “About last night. About the breakup. About being an idiot workaholic who never prioritized you. You were the best thing in my life. And I fucked it up.” “Kei, look at me.” You said softly, making him turn his head to finally look at you, “It’s ok.”

He shook his head, “It’s not ok.”

“Really, it’s-” You were cut off by the feeling of his lips on yours.

He pulled back, nuzzling his nose next to yours, “I still love you so fucking much. I thought I’d be ok.” He whispered, “I tried not to care. But I can’t get you out of my head.”

You rested your forehead against his, putting your hand up to cup his cheek, “You didn't do anything wrong.” You said firmly, “You’re a hard worker, and you care about protecting people. That’s one of the things I love about you.” His eyes shined with hope, “Love? As in present tense? You- you still love me?”

You chuckled, “‘Course. I told you I’d never love anyone the way I loved you. I was serious.”

He wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in the crook of your neck, as you wrapped your arms around him and kissed the top of his head. He snuggled into you, trying to get as close as possible, “Can we go back to the way things were? When we loved each other and it was just us against the world?” He asked, making you nod. “Yeah, baby, I would really like that.” You twirled his hair around your fingers, “How’s your head feel?”

He groaned, wrapping his wings around you both to shield his eyes from the light. You laughed, “I’ll go get you some water.” You moved to get up but he tightened his grip. “Just stay with me for now, please.” He said quietly.

You ran your fingertips down his strong arm, appreciating the muscles he worked so hard for, “How about we go lay down until you feel better?” You offered, making him nod.

He laid down on the bed as you shut the curtains and laid next to him. He draped his wing gently over you and wrapped an arm around your middle pulling you close. You rested your head on his chest, right over his heart; it was just as you remembered, steady and strong.

You breathed in the smell of his cologne and felt your body relax at the familiar smell.

He smiled down at you and kissed your forehead, rubbing circles on your back absentmindedly, “I love you.” He hummed.

You looked up at him and rubbed your thumb over the stubble on his jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I love you too, Kei.”

[mortytheestallion]

tasting glass

Part 2   Part 3

Rating: 18+ (No minors); explicit 

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, angst, implied age gap, unprotected sex, daddy kink

A/N: Hello I’m back from the dead, I know I’ve been lacking on both fandoms but my hyperfixations have died. In honor of season 5 here’s a new little mini-series I’m challenging myself to this summer! This takes place in between episodes 2 and 3!

The summer heat was humid and sticky as Rick finished his latest project. The sweltering seemed to permeate the garage just the same with the door opened or closed, and with Beth and Jerry’s latest fight reaching its peak, he decided hiding away was his best bet. 

Rick and the heat did not get along well, something that translated to the rest of the family, it felt as though he was fending off Summer and Morty with a stick. Their boredom was not his problem though, he had much better things to do. The thought of slipping away had plagued his mind for the last few hours, but the fever of the summer seemed to make his mind feel like syrup. 

“What I wouldn’t fucking give for a pool right now?” Rick murmured to himself, his brow furrowing at the reminder of his own sticky misery. The sky bathed the house in a silky red with the sun slipping down under the horizon. He took another sip from his flask, turning to lean on the workbench. 

He heaved a deep sigh as his phone caught the corner of his eye, you were ignoring him, and in true Rick fashion he had taken that in stride. His eyes narrowed unconsciously as he thought about it, his empty hand tightening into a fist. He didn’t fucking need you.

 He didn’t need anybody.

Beth’s shrill voice cut through the air followed by some thuds and an “Ow!” from Jerry. That earned an eye roll from Rick and while he wouldn’t mind going in there and tearing them a new one, it was too much work. Morty was breathing down his neck about letting them be, that they were happy. He had scoffed when Morty said that, it was bullshit and he wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted another divorce in the next 6 months. 

Nonetheless, he was stuck in this stuffy house with his family’s bullshit to avoid your bullshit and he was starting to feel suffocated. Why did he give a shit if you were mad, fuck if you wanted to play that game so would he. Maybe it was the liquor he had just downed but it really didn't take much to get Rick riled up. And you knew that. 

He could feel the anger blooming in his chest, he wasn’t some fucking teenager in a petty fight with some dumb, little girlfriend. Suddenly he was hot with anger and before he knew it, a portal was in the center of the floor and he was walking through. Damned be his new fibermesh epidermis defense, and fuck his family, always asking him for shit. 

One foot through he stopped and thought of you briefly softening, he had been pretty rough on you lately. You called, he declined. You showed up, he went out the nearest portal. He had really only been around lately to take care of his own needs.

A particularly loud curse from inside the house brought him right back to his original train of thought, he was the smartest man in the universe, he didn’t need to take crap from you. You should be thanking him for his presence in your life. 

“You have some fucking nerve.” 

You shrieked as Rick pulled back the shower curtain. A cold shower was one of the better ways to fend off the heat with the air conditioner broken, especially since Rick had moaned, groaned, and wormed his way out of fixing it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed as he climbed in fully clothed, his brow in a prominent V-shape, lids half mast. It would have been comical in any other situation, his lanky body struggling to fit in your small shower, an almost bored expression on his face as the water drenched his clothes. 

“Me?” Rick scoffed, and narrowed his eyes at you. He began to lose his composure a bit, having your wet naked body in front of him. 

“Yes, you. You can’t just barge in here unannounced anymore Rick. I’m not some toy you can pick up when you’re bored and throw it away when you’re not.”

He feigned a hurt look, shrugged the now soaked coat from his shoulders. “I have enough toys, sweetheart, if you were one you’d know.”

That earned a huff from you, it had been a long day and the last thing you needed was Rick’s bullshit. Turning back to face the water, you rinsed the rest of the soap off of you, jumping slightly as his arms snaked their way around your waist. 

“C’mon,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your shoulder, you could feel the hard press of cold denim against your ass as he ground into you, “you know you can’t refuse my huge dynamite penis.” 

That earned a snort from you, the hard shell of anger cracking slightly. “You’re not off that easy, Rick. You’ve been a huge asshole lately, even more than usual.” 

His hands came up to massage your breasts, the feeling amplified by the cold water. You let out a low moan as he latched his mouth to the sweet spot on your neck while one hand tweaked your nipple, and the other snuck its way down to stroke your fluttering core. 

“S-shit baby you can’t still —is this all for me?” You could feel his wolfish grin against the back of your neck, and in return you arched your back more to grind against his erection. His long fingers trace through your folds as he removes his other hand to undo his belt, you feel the tight heat in your lower belly as you gush around his fingers. 

“Fuck,” Rick murmurs, stopping his motions momentarily to land a hard smack on your ass. You bite back a whine, wanting to maintain some semblance of composure, despite him being knuckle-deep in you. His fingers suddenly press against something deep and spongy within you, your knees buckle as you lurch forward, the unexpected waves of pleasure shivers down your body. Rick lets out another curse, his arm darting out to grip your waist, surely you would’ve fallen face-first into the wall had he not been holding you up.

He inhales sharply as you clench around his fingers, whispering good girl into your neck as you ride it out. He eases out of you, your juices dripping down your thighs, the feeling coupled with the uncomfortable chill of the water makes you shudder. 

“You’re a dirty little slut,” you tense again as he aligns himself to your entrance, still a little sensitive from your release, “beg me baby, I-I want to hear you.”

You mewl as he pushes into you, the stretch rides the line of pleasure and pain, Rick barely gives you enough time to get used to it before he bucks his hips and grips your jaw as a warning, “Beg.”

“Please, Rick, I want — I want you to fuck me,” your voice comes out whiny making you wince a bit, but it seems to please Rick as he sets a deep pace, biting into your neck hard enough it's sure to leave a mark.

You can’t help but arch your back even further, this seems to please him as he releases his bite on your neck, “Someone’s eager, y-you can’t seem to get enough of my dick can you?” You moan in response, snaking a hand down to rub the tender bundle of nerves. 

You clench at the contact, leading Rick to fasten his pace, his hand moving to tighten around your neck. 

“You’re my — you’re daddy’s good girl aren’t you? Can’t get enough of m-my monster cock, you wanna come don’t you? Don’t fucking dare, not until I say so.”

All you can manage is incoherent moans with the occasional Rick! thrown in, you’re too cockdumb to be embarrassed or angry anymore. Rick has his way of getting out of trouble, especially with you. 

His brutal pace coupled with your own fingers becomes too much for you as you near your second orgasm, Rick seemed to egg you on as his own fingers replaced yours, you could feel your stomach tightening as your release began to stir in the peak of your stomach. 

“Come on my dick, baby, let the neighbors hear you scream my name.”

The pleasure washes over you in waves, your pussy clenching hard around his dick, he thrusts with wild abandon chasing his own release. You can feel him rut against your sensitive walls, riding your post-orgasmic haze. He spills inside you a few moments later letting out a string of expletives in true Rick fashion. You feel yourself stir again slightly as you feel him fill you up, but Rick extracts himself from you gracelessly. 

Coming back to your senses you rinse the mixture of juices off your legs, much to Rick’s distaste, and turn off the water. You shiver from being drenched for so long, side-eyeing Rick as he avoids your gaze. 

“You’re dripping on my floor,” you murmur, he stands there uncomfortably, it's not lost on you that his portal gun has returned to his hand.

“Well, I-I should go.”

“Typical.”

Rick can feel the anger simmer low in his belly at your dig, “What do you mean typical?”

“Well let’s see Rick, you show up angry and unannounced, seduce me in my show—” “I didn’t seduce you! And —and frankly, I resent the accusation!” “And now you’re leaving with no explanation. This isn’t sustainable long term, Rick.”

“And what makes you think I want to be here long term,” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, a hurt look flashes across your face before it's replaced with anger. 

“Come on, baby, I-I didn’t mean it.” 

He reaches out for you and you jerk backwards, “Your family may have taken you back, but I’m not this time Rick.” 

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, “Just go, it’s what you’re best at.”

Rage blinds him as he shoots a portal to the floor, “Don’t — I’m not coming back this time.”

“I know you're not.” And with that he’s gone.

[raineydays411]

My Father's daughter pt 3

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary: Back at the Tower, Y/n has a talk with Pepper.

a/n: ohhh another part finished!! some new characters will be revealed next part and i’m so great full for @social-media-imagines-by-me fir helping me create them💕💕

You were furious.

You stormed into your room and slammed the door, finding satisfaction in the loud bang it produced. You then ripped through your drawers and closet, pulling on some work out clothes and some gloves. You then marched out of the room, slamming the door again, startling Sam and Bucky who happened to be passing by.

"Geez kid, slam it a little harder I don't think it fell off the hinges yet." Sam jokes, but you were in no joking mood so you swirled around with fire in your eyes.

"You okay doll?" Bucky softly asks, pushing a frightened Sam to the side. You sigh, knowing it's not fair to take out your anger on them.

"Sorry Sam, it's just...my biological mom is here and wants me to move in with her."

"Oh..." Bucky says, not good with things like this, " Do you want me to like...kill her or..."

"NO" You laugh, " It's just I haven't seen her in nine years and she has the audacity to come up here like it's nothing?!"

Your anger returns, " She thinks that just because she pushed me out of her vagina"

The two men cringe at the words

"That she can just claim me? That's not how it works!" You shout, " And, she brought her fucking husband. The man she left us for! Who does that?!"

Bucky looks at Sam, mentally asking him what they should do. Sam just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

"Come on kid, it looks like you wanna punch something."

and with that he lead you to the training room where Steve was training with Peter.

"Come on queens, you gotta stay on your feet" Steve k=jokes as he, again, trips Peter.

"Mr. Rogers, do you think we should take a break?" Peter pants.

You stride pass them, not bothering to say hi. They look at Sam and Bucky for an explanation and just get a shake of the head.

"Hey Y/n that's my punching" Steve started to say when he saw you throw a hard punch to the bag, "Nevermind..."

You ignore the group behind you, opting to pummel the poor punching bag in front of you.

Your mind flashes back to your mother and her words.

"A girl needs her mother"

*punch*

"Oh petal I wanted to call"

*punch* *punch*

"Come to Gotham. Meet your siblings!"

*BANG*

You look down to see the punching bag flew off the hook and is spilling sand on the floor. You were confused, as you knew you weren't strong enough to do that, not even when you were angry.

"Wow, I guess Cap didn't secure that hook again."

You jump, not expecting someone to be there, as you heard Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Peter leave. You turn to see Pepper there looking at the bag in surprise. You sigh, stepping away from the mess and taking off your gloves. You make your way to the bench and take a swig of water.

"Did you need something Pep?" You ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, i was just wondering if my kid was okay. But given the fact that you punched that bag like it would restore your honor.."

You knew you shouldn't have showed her Avatar.

"I'm assuming your not." She finishes.

You give her a half smile, looking down at your hands.

"Y/n" She says, " Talk to me."

You finally speak, "Why now?"

Pepper frowns, understanding that small phrase, ' I don't know."

"She's not my mother." You state, " She...she might have been once but now?"

Pepper nods," I love you."

You smile, the words reassuring you, " I love you too Pep."

"Come on, your messing up your manicure." She says with a smile, standing and extending a hand towards you. You feel your demnor soften and your mood lighten. Pepper always managed to make you feel better.

"Yeah okay..thanks." You say, taking her hand and letting her pull you from the bench, " Are you hungry? Cause I am>"

"Y/n we just ate!"

"Like an hour ago"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days went by and you hadn't heard a peep from Christine. It was like she went off to lick her wounds and just decided not to reach out again.

Which didn't bother you one bit.

But apparently the universe wanted to fuck with you because when you came home from a day out with Peter, there was your mother, Bruce Wayne, and all six million of her fucking kids sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck?" You say causing the attention to turn to you.

"Language" Peter says, You smile softly at him before then turning to glare at Tony.

"Don't look at me, it was your moth-uh Peppers idea." Tony stumbled, looking rather uncomfortable sharing a drink with the man that his...wife? girlfriend?... whatever she was left him for.

"Pep what?" You asking, softening your glare because you'd be damned if you disrespected her.

"I just think it'd be best if we clear the air and get everything out on the table." Pepper said in that tone she uses when she's dealing with difficult people or the press. You called it her CEO tone.

"Now, go take your bags upstairs and wash up. And I'll pretend that you aren't an hour late"

"It was Peter's idea..." You mumbled and walking to the stairs that lead to the bed rooms.

"It was not!" Peter shouts following you to the rooms to help with the bags.

Christine watched as her daughter walked out of the room, playfully arguing with Peter. It was as if she were a whole different person, carefree and playful. Totally different from when she was glaring and stiff when talking to her. It broke her heart hearing Tony refer to Pepper as her Mother rather than Christine. But what did she expect?

Damian scoffed catching her attention, "Mother I do not see why you've dragged us here, that girl didn't even acknowledge us."

"Damian, enough" Bruce said, not looking away from his awkward conversation with Tony.

"Gee if only I could do that with our kids." Tony mutters into his drink.

"Does Y/n argue often?" Bruce asks trying to engage in conversation.

Tony laughs before fondly speaking, " Sort of. She isn't the type to back down when she thinks something is right. There was this one time I caught her arguing with one of my business partners about his "condescending tone and misogynistic attitude"."

""And did she apologize after?"

"Hell no. She glared at me and told me apologizing just for his ego would be demeaning her experiences as a woman. Although to be fair he was an asshole."

Bruce chuckles, " She sounds like a well rounded young woman. How old was she then?"

"Ah about 10, it was funny seeing this little girl argue in a Justin Bieber shirt argue about the patriarchy with a full grown man."

Bruce and Tony shared a laugh, picturing the scene.

"You must be very proud of her." Bruce mentions after they quieted down. Tony let a small smile escape.

" I am. She's had a rough life, and I..." Tony trails off, " She means everything to me. Without her...I don't think I'd be the same person I am today."

And with that, Tony downed his drink and stood, " Want another?"

Bruce smiled and accepted, watching Tony leave. He can tell that the man was close to his daughter. A bond that formed due to a loss, they both grew from it and grew closer. He understood, thinking about his own children.

Pepper and Christine were having a somewhat similar conversation, although it was a little more tense.

"So...Pepper-"

"Virginia." Pepper said, cutting her off.

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Virginia. Pepper is a nickname my family calls me."

"Oh. Okay, Virginia, how long have you known Y/n and Tony?"

"Oh about nine or so years. I was promoted to assistant when I saw how much of a mess Tony was." Pepper said casually.

Dick and Jason tensed, overhearing the tense conversation between the two mothers. But before Dick could interrupt Jason sat him back down.

"I wanna see what happens."

Christine continued, " And when did you become a..more permanent around the house?"

"When I saw that Y/n the one taking care of Tony." Pepper said in a serious tone, "She was the one making sure he didn't choke on his vomit and eating cereal as his flings walked out the room. Then he got kidnapped...and y/n was alone. So I made sure she’d never be alone again.”

Christine heart sank. She knew about the whole kidnapping thing. Why she didn't step in, she doesn't know. It's just another thing she regrets to this day.

Before Pepper could continue, she heard two sets of footsteps and voices

"All I'm saying is, if he looks at me funny, I'm fighting him and that's that."

"Yeah maybe not the best impression on..." Peter cuts off when they reach the living room. Eyes again on the two of you.

"Let's get this over with." You muttered, saying bye to Peter and making way over to the couch to sit next to Pepper.

"Y/n!" Christine says happily, " I'm glad you're here. We brought you something!"

She pulls out a box and she carefully hands it over to you.

You look at it suspiciously before getting a nudge from Pepper.

"Thank you." You grit out. Earning a glare from Damian and Cassandra.

You open the box to see...cupcakes.

"They're the peanut butter strawberry cupcakes you used to like. Remember? I used to bring them when I came to see you." Christine says, trying to bring up good memories.

You frown and close the box, " I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lie.

Pepper casts a glance towards you, "They look lovely, let me take them into the kitchen, I'll check on dinner."

And with that she takes the box and leaves into the kitchen. Leaving you and Tony alone.

"So...Stark" Damian started fixing his gaze on you.

"Yes, Wayne?" You said, matching his energy.

"What exactly is it you want from my mother?" He asks, earning a groan from his older brothers.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if she left me alone." You say with a straight face.

Christine frowns but before she says something Damian speaks up again.

"Tt, all this drama for the likes of you? It's honestly disappointing" He drawls, trying to get under your skin.

"Damian!" Christine scolded.

"Well, I apologize for not meeting your standards. I'd try harder if I cared what a toddler thought of me."

Jason let out a surprised chuckle while the rest of the family looked on in shock. Tony just rolled his eyes.

"I do not understand why Mother insists on rekindling her relationship with you. You obviously weren't worth the effort the first time around." He spits, causing the rest of the family to gasp.

You however, just laugh, " When you figure it out, let me know. It's probably the same reason she puts up with you."

Damian glares, about to start in again when Jason cuts him off " Shut up Demon. She got you man."

"Tt"

"I'm Jason, and anyone who can out that brat in check is good in my book." He says sending you a smirk.

You smile back, " I'm friends with Loki and Wade Wilson, I'm hardly affected by anything anymore." Your dad rolls his eyes again, he’s not exactly enthusiastic about your choice in friends.

You like this one. Probably the one you're gonna be able to stand in this family.

"Don't hog her Jason!" Dick shouts pushing him away before turning to smile at you, " Hi! I'm-"

"Dick Grayson. I know, you spilled your champagne on my dress a few years ago at a New Years gala." You say, still a little bitter about it.

"Oh. heh, right, sorry about that. Again." He says sheepishly.

You turn to Cassandra, " You're Cassandra. You and your friend cornered me in the bathroom."

Cassandra scowls and looks away.

Then you turned to Tim, " And you need to learn how to secure your fire walls better."

Tim looked at you confused, "Um excuse me?"

You smirked, " Just a suggestion. I assume you don't want people to know about your...bats in the attic?"

The whole family froze.

You knew? There was no way.

"Kid, are you hacking again?" Tony said exasperatedly, " You promised you'd stop after the last time."

"Hey it's not my fault Shuri didn't think about changing her password." You say defensively, “ and it’s not like you were complaining when you had me hack into SHEILDS databases”

“What was that!?” Pepper shouts from the kitchen.

“Heheh, nothing dear.” Tony shouts back then in a hushed voice scolds you, “ I gave you fifty bucks to keep that a secret.”

“I didn’t say what you had me retrieve.” You said smugly leaning back in your chair.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel.

On one hand, this teen that objectively hates his family, knows their biggest secret. She can singlehandedly destroy their family and expose them. And she has the means to.

But on the other, she’s a perfect fit for their family. She gets along with Jason, doesn’t let Damian get under her skin, and from the looks of it can definitely take care of herself. Only thing is, again, she hates his wife and by association, his family.

“I’m sorry, hacking? You know that’s illegal right?” Tim asks, still in shock that you got past his security systems.

You turn to him and in a bored tone replied , “Yeah? and?”

Tim stuttered for a bit before going quiet with a blush. It was adorable really.

You had to hold back a laugh, it was fun getting this stuffy family all riled up. Especially when you can see the disapproval in Christines face.

“Tony, you let our daughter participate in illegal activities??” Christine asks with a raised brow.

The table goes silent at the tone of her voice. Knowing that when she uses it someone is really in trouble.

But you roll your eyes because how are you supposed to know what that tone means?

“I let my daughter express herself in a ...healthy way. She knows her limits.” Tony replies cooly, taking a drink and looking back into the kitchen wondering where Pepper went.

”Obviously not. Tony she has no regard for the laws at all! You think i didn’t see the headlines last year?!”

Ah yes, last year you had a slight scandal where you may have punched a pap for trying to get a picture up your skirt but who wouldn’t?!

“ And you let her hang around criminals and terrorists?!”

You scoff, “ Oh please everyone in the Avengers was a criminal or terrorist at least once.”

“Not helping kid.” Tony says, “Christine, you and your family have no right to come into my home and judge my family. I’ve been civil. Hell maybe a little too much. Mainly because if I wasn’t, my wife—err Fiancée, would kill me.”

You snicker, earning a few glares.

“Look the point is, don’t tell me how to raise my daughter. Especially because I was doing it all alone.” Tony finishes with a sigh.

The table goes silent. You were getting tired of all the tense silences today.

“ Look.” You turn to Christine, “ I get that you probably feel guilty or something because you ditched me. And I appreciate that or whatever.”

You were not good at this.

“ But I don’t wanna live with you.”

Christine looks down sadly, “ Y/n I just...I just want to get to know you again. You’re my baby.”

Before you could answer you heard a crash come from the kitchen and smoke fill the rooms.

“ Pepper?!” You cough, “ Dad what’s happening?!”

“ I don’t know. Stay here” He says summoning his suit.

“FRIDAY?!” You shout, but not hearing the AI.

The Wayne’s all looked at each other in panic. They didn’t bring their suits, thinking it was just a dinner.

You turn to them and shout “ Come with me, and stay low!”

You start to lead them to the stair case, knowing that the rooms were relatively safe.

“Come on!” you yell when they don’t follow you.

Christine stands from her seat and makes to follow you before being stopped by Damian.

“Mother we cannot..”

“Damian, I’ve had about enough of you. Let’s go.” She says sternly and follows you. The rest of the family following behind as Bruce nudges Damian.

“ Come on son.”

“Father we don’t know where she’s leading us.” Damian says stubbornly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now.” he coughs.

The sounds of punching and the blasts come from the kitchen.

“Let’s go.”

They finally join the rest of the family. You have them crouched in the hallway.

“ This is James’ room. Dad had it modified just incase he was ever triggered into the Winter Solider again. No ones getting through this door when it’s locked.”

You usher them in.

“Come on Y/n” Christine says reaching a hand out to you.

You smirk, “ What? and miss all the action?”

You close the door and lock it before leaving. Laughing at their surprised faces.

The room is silent.

“ She’s awesome!” Jason says with a laugh.

[messers-moony]

Wish 2 | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Wife!Reader

Summary: Five storms out to time travel after an argument with his wife and comes back to an unexpected surprise.

A/N: Five time travels at 26 instead of 13

The shock that settled on Malachi’s face could’ve been recognizable from miles away. His Aunts and Uncles were right; he did look like his father. It astounded him. He wanted to be angry. This man had left him for almost his entire life. He was nearly eighteen and would be in November. So why did he show up now?

More importantly, why did he leave Y/n?

“ Why did you leave? “ Malachi’s voice was quiet, and Five swallowed, “ I- I didn’t know she- “

He interrupted before Five could continue, “ I don’t care that you left me. I stopped caring a long time ago. “ Malachi stated, “ I want to know why you left mom. “

“ I didn’t know that I would be gone for seventeen years your time. “ Five informed softly, “ I ended up at the Academy and immediately came here. “

“ That is no excuse! You left her when she needed you! “ The boy was desperate for his father to understand, “ How am I supposed to trust you? To love you after you left the one person you swore to love? “

“ I don’t expect you to trust me immediately, and I don’t expect you to be understanding of my actions. “ Five was almost too calm, “ Understand your actions?! Are you insane? “ Malachi retorted, irritated.

“ You left for seventeen years to prove a point! That’s extraordinarily too far-fetched. You risked never being able to see mom again because of your stupid pride! “ The boy yelled, standing in front of his mother protectively, “ Malachi, please. “ Y/n pleaded.

Tears filled her son's eyes, “ No! Mom, you deserve better than this. “

“ She does, and I’m aware of it. “ Five informed, and Malachi turned to glare at him, “ I’m not ashamed to say that she does deserve better. But you need to know– whether you believe me or not, I didn’t break all of my promises. “

Y/n and Malachi stared curiously, “ One of my wedding vows was ‘No matter what happens, no matter what we go through, I’ll always find my way back to you’. I may have broken most of my vows, and I can’t express the amount of pain I went through knowing I did, but I didn’t break all of them. “

“ I spent forty-five years alone in the future. It isn’t what you think it is either. But I spent every second of those forty-five years trying to get back here to your mom, to my wife. “ Five explained, “ I didn’t know she was pregnant. Perhaps I would’ve stayed. We won’t know now. What’s done is done, and all I can do now is try to earn your trust. “

Malachi didn’t stand down. His glare was harsh, and his eyes turned a shade darker. It was almost scary to see how protective he was. But maybe it made sense because that’s how Five always was. He always held his ground and protected what he loved. But that didn’t heal the breaking in his heart when his own son was being this aggressive towards him. Would it be cowardly to say he was afraid of a seventeen-year-old boy even after being an assassin for nearly five years? Probably.

“ Why did you show up now? “ Malachi’s voice was hurt now, no longer aggressive, “ A doomsday is upcoming. I had no idea when I’d come back or when I’d be back. “ Five answered.

The man swallowed before speaking again, “ How- How old are you? “

“ Seventeen. I’m about to go into my senior year of high school. “ Malachi replied reluctantly, “ He’ll be graduating with honors and as Valedictorian of his class. “ Y/n added.

Five chuckled, “ Glad to know you inherited my smarts. Y/n is hopeless. “

“ You asshole. “ She retorted playfully, and Five smiled, “ You- You really want him back in our lives? “ Malachi questioned to his mother.

She nodded, “ Yes. “

Five stood up from the chair at the island and made his way to them. He kept his distance from them, leaving three feet between them. It was better for Malachi to come to him than the other way around. His back was leaning against the island counter while his son pondered his decisions.

“ Malachi, it’s your decision too. If you don’t want to associate with him, that’s okay. “ Y/n stated comfortably, looking at her son's teary eyes, “ I would like for you two to have the bond you always wished for. But you’re grown up now. This is your choice. “

He sniffled, “ I- I’ve heard stories about you. “ Malachi informed, and Five chuckled bitterly, “ I’m sure you have. “

“ They weren’t all that great. “ The boy added, “ Uncle Diego wasn’t fond of you. Aunt Vanya talks about you a lot. She said that you were always nice to her. “

“ She said that you weren’t nice to anyone else. “ Malachi informed, and Five stared at him curiously, “ Uncle Diego said you were an asshole and prideful. “

Five had a feeling this wasn’t going to work in his favor. His own son was feeling the same way as his siblings had. Admittedly Five wanted that bond too. He wanted to create a bond with his son despite all his faults. He wanted to be there for him now that he was here. Five wanted to prove himself.

“ I wished for years that you’d show up. Every birthday, every Christmas, every thanksgiving, everything. I prayed and wished upon every shooting star that you’d come home. “ Malachi chuckled bitterly, “ But now that you’re here, I’m not sure that was the right decision. “

His father didn’t get a chance to respond before Malachi walked toward the door, grabbing his car keys and leaving. The door shut normally despite the amount of anger and sadness residing in the boy's body. He wouldn’t be another version of his father. He just needed to calm down. Five stared at the ceiling to prevent the tears from falling down his cheeks.

Gently Y/n turned his head down to look at her despite him being taller. Her sleeves covered her palms, and she wiped away the tears. Her sleeves were turning darker from the water. Eventually, Five couldn’t take it anymore. His body shook, and he pulled her into his embrace, sobbing on her shoulder. He held the back of her shirt tighter than ever.

“ I’m- I'm so sorry, love. “ Five cried onto her shoulder, “ Shh, it’s okay. You didn’t know. “ Her voice was calm and steady.

Her fingers ran through his brunet hair, “ Who helped you through it? “ His voice was so gentle and hesitant as his head laid on her shoulder, “ Diego was a great help. “

Five sniffled, holding her closer, “ When did you find out? “

“ A week before you left. I didn’t know when to say it. I was nervous and scared at how you’d react. It turns out I waited too long. “ Y/n chuckled humorlessly.

The man pulled from her embrace to cup her cheeks and gently kiss her lips. The gesture he had missed for forty-five years. At that moment, he felt like they had just gotten married all over again. The softness and gentleness of the kiss made him feel like nothing ever happened between them. He leaned his forehead against hers.

“ I’m sorry. Truly I am. I didn’t know, but even if you had told me then, I don’t think I would’ve listened. “ Five admitted, and she nodded, “ I know. “

A silence cut through the apartment like a spider creeping up a web, quick, careful and skilled, “ Do- Do you think he’ll ever forgive me? “

Y/n shrugged, “ Maybe. “

[luna-writes-stuff]

I would be honored if you could do an imagine for Fili crushing on someone who went on the journey with the Company. He thought she liked his brother, but after seeing him with Tauriel, Fili feels like he has a chance and offers everything to make her as happy as he thought she would be with Kili. Lovely fluff and some misunderstandings with everyone living because IF I CAN'T SEE CANON THEN IT DOESN'T EXIST

Mixed signals, Fili Durin (platonic Kili x reader)

what do you mean they don’t usually live???? Idk I always skip the last half hour of botfa. If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.

Ahahah I got taken away a bit so it’s a long request. Sorry….

Headcanons, female s/o

Tw: misunderstood feelings, mention of injury and blood, tiny sprinkle of angst, fluff, Kili being a lil shit, Fili being jealous, few mentions of Y/N I’m so sorry.

- This man is whipped for you. I posted a request similar to this one yesterday, and I feel like it says enough.

- The moment he sees you, he knows you’re his One. Yet, he can’t allow himself to show you. His brother wouldn’t shut up about it and besides that, after Erebor was to be reclaimed, he had to marry royalty in order to form an alliance.

- But Thorin wasn’t blind. He has seen the look in Dis’ eyes many times before. He had seen his sister find her One, so it came as nothing out of the ordinary when he witnessed his nephew do the same.

- And this is pre-dragonsickness. Back when Thorin was all “I hate everyone but I guess I have to keep up with these two idiots so I’ll tolerate them.”

- And he wanted to grant Fili the opportunity to be with his One. He had even told him to simply go for it.

- But Fili was a bit insecure. When you met him, you didn’t seem taken away in any way. It was almost as if it had only been him who was in love.

- And with that, you had grown remarkably close to his brother, Kili. You two joked around all the time. You sat together during the evenings, Kili would help you up on your horse/pony, he would take offer your watches and he even let you hold his bow and arrow. That is basically dwarven language for “I love you and I wish to court you” or “I love you and I’m so glad to have you in my family.”

- What Fili didn’t know is that Thorin told Kili about you being his One. But instead of teasing Fili about it, Kili had made it his duty to agitate his brother so much that he would have no choice but to confess to you before Kili would sneak you away.

- For your information: Kili had no intention of sneaking you away. He just wanted to make it look like it for Fili, and, lucky for him, you had just been going along with it subconsciously.

- But it did not agitate Fili. It made the poor lad confused and tired. You were showing so much affection and endearment to his brother that he felt like he could never compete. Even though Kili had never been attractive in dwarven standards, he knew his way around women. And seeing someone finally pay attention to him, made Fili happy for his brother.

- And Kili just kept up with the act. He was oblivious to what his brother was feeling. Thorin had quite specifically told Kili not to tell his brother, and for once, he didn’t. But when days turned into weeks, Kili made more advances. Not in any way uncomfortable for you, but they had been a step further.

- He would let you rest against him during night shifts, he would let his hand linger on your waist when he helped you get onto your horse/pony. This sneaky bastard even managed to toy with your hair.

- Fili grew absolutely devastated at these moments. He had distanced himself more and truly felt as if his One had been taken away and he would die alone.

- But then Mirkwood happened. It was obvious to Fili that his brother had taken a liking on Tauriel, the female elf that saved him earlier. You had been passed out of exhaustion in your cell, not paying attention to your surroundings anymore.

- And that was when Fili finally decided to speak.

- “What are you doing? I thought you liked Y/N and now you’re flirting with that elf? You can’t treat her like that!”

- And now Kili was confused.

- “I thought you liked Y/N?” He had questioned, not even knowing whether his uncle had been lying to him or not.

- “That doesn’t matter. What matters is, you can’t just run around-“ but Kili had already cut him off. “It does matter. Because Y/N isn’t my One. I’m not attracted to her!”

- And now Fili was dead silent. He had been contemplating on whether to act furious or taken aback. In reality, he had been a bit of both.

- “You don’t like Y/N?” Fili asked, nearly insulted.

- “I was only trying to agitate you. Uncle said she was your One but that you wouldn’t confess.” Kili admitted finally, knowing that keeping the act up any longer wouldn’t work.

- “So you tried to beat it out of me?” The only response the blonde got was a quiet hum.

- “You thought I would take away your chance of happiness?” Fili wondered aloud, his anger now showing more clearly. “Well, not if you put it like that-“ “How else am I supposed to put it?”

- With those words, the space grew quiet. One more question lingered on Fili’s mind, and he had to ask it.

- “Does she know you don’t like her?” A short pause was heard from Kili before he responded. “She does. When we grew closer she told me she wasn’t attracted to me and I told her she wasn’t my One.”

- A sigh of relief came Fili’s way, but his brother kept on talking. “She grew all confused by the concept of ‘Ones’. Had to give her a whole history lesson. She thinks it’s adorable. I’m sure she won’t reject you.” With those words, Fili’s ears pricked up.

- “How so?” “Because every time we are together, she won’t stop asking me about you.” Fili never thought someone could ever bring him more butterflies than when you smiled at him, but as Kili’s sentences reached him, his stomach felt all light again.

- “At first I thought it was because you were ignoring her, but I quickly figured out that wasn’t the case.” Kili shot a quick look his brother’s way, even though he had been in a cell on the other side of the hall. “She likes you, she really does. She’s not as good at hiding it as you are. If you ask her to court you, she won’t say no.”

- Fili had spent the entire night pondering over his brother’s words. Even as they escaped the dungeons and took the boat to Laketown, his anxiety bubbled up.

- But as soon as the orcs entered the city, reality sunk back in. They had been on the run while simultaneously claiming their homeland. There might be a chance neither of you would make it. And it terrified him.

- As you were busy holding off the orcs in Bard’s home, Fili had been right beside you covering your back. He knew asking you to court him would require more steps. Up until this moment you had only held a handful of conversations, but Fili was running out of patience.

- “When all this is over, I need you by my side.” He told you quickly, his voice heavy as he fenced off the attackers. You grew confused at your words, yet your actions did not falter one bit. And it only made Fili more attracted to you. How you maintained yourself on a battlefield, yet somehow managed to hold that perfect look. It could quite easily take his breath away.

- “But I am by your side.” You answered, not catching his meaning, thinking it had been too good to be true.

- “I mean by my side at Erebor. When we reclaim the mountain. Will you stay with me?” Upon your silence, Fili tried explaining his speech. “I know asking you to court me requires more steps but we might not have time for them anymore. I need you to stay with me. We can do all these steps afterwards, I promise.”

- You cast him a quick look before giving him a sincere nod. “I’ll stay with you.”

- And that is exactly what you did. Upon finally arriving at the mountain with the four dwarves, Fili finally got the time to braid your hair, even if Thorin told him to look for the Arkenstone. You had even managed to braid his hair too, even though you had no beads yet.

- Even as Thorin slowly grew insane, Fili had done what he promised; he remained by your side, defending you against his uncle and keeping you as safe as he could.

- During the battle of the five armies, you stayed with him and Kili. You traveled with the three of you, not once separating. Not even when Fili decided you should split up. Because of that, you managed to do quite a number on Azog before Thorin called out to him.

- Azog had gotten a good slash on your leg, nothing life threatening but enough to make you collapse on the spot. Fili had been so worried. He had promised to look out for you, but now you were bleeding out on the snow covered floor. Kili had already ran off for help, even though the possibility he would come back with one would be highly unlikely, as battle was still raging on.

- On top of Ravenhill everything had grown silent. Bodies of dead orcs were littered over the floor but all that mattered to Fili right now was you being safe. Eventually, Kili had ran back with Bilbo, Thorin and Gandalf by his side. They had successfully beaten Azog, finally putting an end to the bloodshed.

- As the mountain was being rebuilt, Oin had put you on bed rest to let your leg heal and Fili had been with you the entire time. Thorin hadn’t even tried to get him for royal duties. He knew he had been awful to you during his dragonsickness, and this was his way of apologizing to you. And you had been fine with it.

- When you had finally recovered, Kili took you to the forges to make beads for Fili. You wanted it to be a surprise for him, but you needed supervision. At first, Dis, Fili and Kili’s mother, had offered to help, but it had become her duty to distract the crown prince.

- A few burns and scratched had started to form on both your and Kili’s hands but it had been worth it. The beads were incredible.

- Fili was so happy when you gave them to him. He was so surprised by the amazing details and the thought and time your poured into them.

- He wears them the entire time. Now exceptions. Not even for bed or bath. None. They must always be in his hair.

- I WANNA WRITE MORE BUT IT’S ALREADY SO LONG BUT JUST ASSUME HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH AND WILL TREASURE YOU FOREVER AND LOVE YOU FOR EVERY LITTLE THING YOU DO