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skay-ali · 3 months ago

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The Forgotten Daughter

A slightly slow plot but I prefer it that way, that the obsessed characters appear little by little

Chapter 2

Damian Wayne... he was an enigmatic child for you.

The truth is that you still don't understand how you managed to get along with the boy, his curt, unfriendly and arrogant personality was difficult to deal with, if not impossible.

After his first visit you didn't expect to see him again, his upset face with a curt goodbye was the last thing you expected to see from the boy, not receiving another visit from him a few days later.

You would be lying if you said that your life became more miserable with the child, even with his witty hurtful comments they made you smile, perhaps because you did not take the child's words seriously, because you did not feel familiar with him, or because after being bothered he an adorable scene with your baby that took away his threatening appearance.

You compared him to a chihuahua, those adorable little dogs that tried to look brave and like a big threat, but they were just adorable little creatures.

You also attributed your great attitude towards the child's visits in large part to the fact that you had matured, you were already a responsible adult with a daughter who sweetened your life even more, you became one of those television mothers who was positive, above all, wearing a big smile with an air of friendliness.

“Because you smile like a fool,” the boy commented, annoyed when he saw the attitude his sister was wearing.

You snapped out of your thoughts and paid attention to your surroundings again.

“Ahhh.. it's just that you two look so adorable playing around” you defended yourself.

In a way it was true, seeing the child sitting on a puzzle-style rug that you put together in the living room, playing with some baby toys, with your little daughter, while the little girl tried to play with the child and moved her hands with excitement, It was something that warmed your heart.

You received a displeased grimace from Damian at your words, he stopped paying attention to you and looked back at Alice.

“Hey, don't bother about that, if you keep making faces you'll get old.”

“I'm not the one who should worry about getting old you know” the boy responded, but this time without paying much attention to you.

“Am I getting older, can I tell?” You worried about his words, it was a valid worry, at least for you.

This time you did not receive any attention, neither from the child, nor from your baby, great, now I will exchange you for that bad excuse of a refined child, you noticed his taste for being from a wealthy family, something that you never liked very much, although Having money and having no limit to spend it was fantastic, having many gossip about your life, seeing how luxury and money controlled people, the carelessness of some parents and others who put pressure on their children to make them their perfect puppets, no. It was something very nice.

“Well men still flirt with me, so I guess I shouldn't worry about my appearance until they stop” you joked, you were going to leave aside the fact that you were getting older with each passing day, month and year, forget that Time was still ticking for almost everyone in the world, worrying about it was stupid and a martyrdom, it caused nothing but depressive and anxious feelings.

“Who went and where?” The boy got up from the ground in a hurry and faced you.

Damian got upset when he heard that, dogs trying to seduce you for their dirty desires, he wouldn't allow it, that would affect his little niece, if his niece, it's not that he cared about you, that's clear, although you were kind to him and You treated him like a member of your family, he didn't feel anything for you…. TRUE? You were just a woman who shared blood with him, his sister, he wasn't going to admit it.

“Uggg, you sound like a protective father” you made a disgusted face.

“That your useless husband wasn't taking care of you” he ignored your mockery and continued with his interrogation.

“whaaat?” His words surprised you “Haha, I'm married, I think you hit your head.”

“What about that man who was at your house when I met you?” he asked you again, this time you could see that his calm temperament changed to an aggressive one.

“The man we had dinner with?” Damian nodded “yes that man, Alice's father?”

"Hahaha he's not Alice's father, where did you get that idea from?"

The boy didn't answer you, he just looked at you questioningly, waiting for you to continue talking.

“That man you met was Nick, Alice's godfather,” you explained, “and as for this little girl's father, he is not part of our lives.”

Thanksgiving was a very lively date in your home, your friends visited your house and had a delicious dinner, it was one of those days where the whole house became full of life and there was laughter in every corner, there were small arguments, but They all revolved around who gained little Alice's favor. Although she reacted well to Damian's company, she was not the same with your friends. It means that the little baby develops a demanding side with the people around her except for her family.

Today your younger brother did not attend the party, even though you invited him, it was something you expected, unfortunately, he had a family to celebrate with, his father and brothers, you assume, in his conversations he never mentioned his mother, so you assume that she It was not listed in its current home.

The surprise was pleasant, when you found the child visiting you in the early morning of the new day, although you wanted to sleep, seeing the child visiting you so late at your invitation, you suppose, warmed your heart and you accepted that the child came in. your house.

The nagging doubt of how it was possible for him to come from so far away in the middle of the night unaccompanied to your house was in your head, naaa... you would let him get away with it, he is not your son after all, and knowing the story familiar, Damian is also supposed to play superheroes like the others.

You watched as Damián devoured the food left over from the party, for some reason he decided to go out to the balcony of the house to eat and you followed him so as not to leave him alone. Yes, you were saying goodbye to the food you planned to eat the following week. At least you could save breakfast by reheating the little leftovers.

“You know you look like dad” you said looking at the child, maybe it was the dream or the silent atmosphere, between you and the child, but seeing him made you a little nostalgic.

It's funny, because even though that man never did a well-deserved action to receive such a title, you still called him your father, you hated yourself for that, you wanted to stop being stuck in a place where you were still deep inside yourself expecting something from your paternal family.

Dad... oh dad, why did you never give me such an opportunity to call you that, that man, even without effort or interest in your life, took an undeserved title.

You realized that the boy had stopped eating, to pay attention to you and your words. He didn't say anything which is a surprise, given his defensive attitude every time they spoke.

“Don't look at me like that, it's true... you look like him in many ways” you looked Damián in the eyes, you were lying with your head on the bars of the balcony without wanting to move it, with a face empty of emotions.

“I remember seeing him eat just the way you do, I never forget it, him eating with a stoic face and an air of superiority surrounding him, as if he were royalty” you did not move your eyes, always on a fixed point, observing the child who He was the exact copy of the first man who broke your heart “They are the same when eating, even if you don't believe it.”

Do you remember well when you would sneak out of your room or the kitchen where you spent your time with Alfred, just to see your father for a moment, there was something that stopped you from facing the man, sometimes he looked very tired, he was talking on the phone or someone She accompanied him at his dinner, like the women who visited the mansion with Bruce and stayed the night with him.

“Your appearance also reveals you as his son, after all you are his spitting image” you finished your ramblings, you looked away from the boy, it was better not to say anything else to him, you didn't want to bother him anymore, if he took your words the wrong way. You blame your lack of sleep for causing an impending disaster.

You'd better concentrate on observing the dark landscape full of lights that the balcony offers.

“You look like Bruce too,” Damian comments as he composes himself after being surprised by your words.

"..." You were left speechless by his sentence, how come you two looked alike and never noticed it? They had to change what made them similar to their father or treasure it with all their hearts.

You waited to hear the boy as you climbed onto the bars of the balcony and sat down, needing to clear your mind of the next words that would come out of the boy's mouth.

“You and Bruce… you are not careful in your romantic adventures and you end up with unexpected children,” he said without mincing words.

“Ahhh how embarrassing you don't say that” you tried to hide your face from the child's sight, you didn't expect him to digest something similar.

You laughed a little at what he said, in a way it was true, you didn't see it, but Damián also smiled when he saw your reaction and your smile, you didn't get angry or say anything bad against him because of his words.

He followed your steps and also sat on the bars of the balcony.

Although the adrenaline surged through your body from hanging at a high altitude above the ground, you left your worries behind and enjoyed the moment. You still kept your hands on the bars, to avoid incidents.

“Yeah, I'm sorry if what sounded bad before, the truth is that seeing you here makes me happy, I've never done something like that with dad and seeing you doesn't… wakes up emotions in me” you apologized, although the words you said were unintentional. you threw at him, you know very well that they had a bit of resentment in them.

“You are... you are the family I never had.”

Oh how stupid you were to say that, if only you knew that that closed your destiny, if you knew that by saying that, the boy whom you just started to consider a brother would see you as a valuable person in his life that he would not have the luxury of losing. , using methods at any cost to have his sister and niece by his side.

In another place very far from your house and the family scene you had.

Another great scene broke out, all because the "eldest" of the Wayne children went to look for his younger brother after their family dinner, but when he got to his room he noticed his absence.

This worried him, even more so knowing that he wasn't even sneaking around the city in his vigilante form.

Where had the little demon of the family gone? He scanned the boy's room, trying to find a clue to his whereabouts.

Even though he meticulously searched the entire large room, he found nothing, and about to give up, a book caught his attention.

An art book, it was rare that Damian left something visible, Dick took the moment to review his brother's art, upon seeing his few projects before he noticed that he had great talent.

He scanned the pages slowly, capturing every detail of the drawings and paintings, his brother was undoubtedly talented, but there was something, some leaves in particular, that stopped him from thinking about them.

A woman was drawn on it, a woman that he vaguely remembered, she was very familiar, but no matter how much he searched his memory he couldn't remember who she was.

When he was finally able to change the page, he noticed that all the other pages contained more drawings of the woman, or of a baby.

He took a photo of the drawings, something told him that this woman was important, he had to remember who she was.

It's time to add more characters, the good thing is that we already have a yandere.

Reader never specified that it was the paternal family that she never had, because although with Damian now they are more like brothers, she had her friends and her mother as family, may she rest in peace.

tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog

#x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere platonic

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artyandink · 4 months ago

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whiskey, baby

SUMMARY: Dean’s no longer a demon, and in order to deal with the horrors of all that he’s said and done he retreated into his own shell. Drowning himself in whiskey and his own problems because that’s all there’s left to do. Then there’s you, his demon self’s esteemed fuck buddy, who comes up with a two step plan to feeling good, only for a little while. Step 1? Let you take the reins. Step 2? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

TW: MOC!Dean, angst, demon trauma, post demon!Dean, Reader’s not a stone cold bitch and actually worries about Dean in this but in her own weird way, Dean doesn’t hate her for an odd reason, smut

STW: switch!Dean, riding, oral (m + f receiving), temperature + whiskey play, lipstick play (does it count?), marking, switch!reader, thigh riding (brief), pussydrunk!Dean, fingering, face sitting, ass slapping, thigh slapping, slight overstimulation, ring kink implied, major praise kink, dirty talk, damage of clothes, vocal Dean, threat of exhibitionism

A/N: Yes, this is a sequel to lipstick, baby, and you guys can make the comparison between Dean as a demon during the smutty parts and Dean post demon and more aware. Hope you enjoy!

NOW PLAYING: RIVER - BISHOP BRIGGS

Dean felt kinda empty, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. Being a demon didn’t suit him at all, and now that it was over he was left to deal with the reality of it all. The killing, punching people’s lights out, hurting Sammy, hurting in general— he hated it with every fibre of his fucking being.

“Fuck.” Dean growled under his breath, staring at himself in the mirror and finding he just couldn’t damn do it, looking away after barely five seconds because holy hell, he wanted to smash the mirror in just to please the Mark throbbing on the skin of his forearm. “Shut up, why don’t you, you… I don’t even know what you are.” He hissed at the Mark, but it didn’t shut up or stop pulsing.

The bunker door being banged on drew his attention away from his own flaws - thank God, if the bastard even existed - and prompted Dean to walk out of his bathroom, grunting an affirmation that yes, he was coming to whoever was behind the door.

When he wrenched it open with an expression that looked like the human equivalent of a ticked off chihuahua, he saw… you. Oh, fuck, oh, shit, you. The woman that he as a demon had incredible sexual escapades that may or may not have been the star of his dreams for weeks on end after the whole demon thing got cured. Pouring the whiskey on your body, you riding him till you both were spent— it felt almost lucid.

“You.” Dean murmured hoarsely, his throat feeling dry upon the sight of you and your gorgeous, sexy self. Today you were in denim shorts and fishnet tights - of course you were in something that made his senses go wild - with the same red plaid that was buttoned up this time, tucked in and the sleeves rolled to your elbows.

He kind of felt a little out of place. Out of place in his own home— that’s the kind of effect you had.

“Gee, how enthusiastic.” You drawled, leaning against the doorframe, brown paper bag clutched in one hand. “I really thought you’d be more inclined to see me, Dean, I’m partially offended.” You gave him a cheeky smirk, then grasped what was in the bag, showing him the neck of a bottle of Jack.

Oh. That changes things.

Dean’s lip twitched up at the sight, warming up to you like he would when drinking the good stuff. Then again, he knew that deep in that roughed up heart of his, he had a soft spot for you in particular. “That’s my girl.” He took the bottle, examining it with a chuckle as he let you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“So, Dean, how’ve you been?” You asked, following behind him, your boots clicking on the tile of the bunker’s floor. You looked around, pouting in approval at what you saw. Place was damn impressive. But you were also perceptive to Dean. The way he clutched that bottle like a vice, the slight tightness in his gait, the set of his brow. All subtle, but you’d had sex with this man enough times to know when something bothers him.

What? You were perceptive during sex too, you’re not only in it for the physical stuff. You’re not a monster.

However, Dean just shrugged, making a grumble of an ‘eh’, ambling with you towards his bedroom. “As good as a man can be, sweetheart. You?” Bullshit.

“I mean, how’ve you really been?” The question stopped him dead in his tracks, and he swallowed, eyes furtively glancing to you in a way that screamed ‘oh, shit’. But he didn’t say anything, just prompted him to trudge up to his bedroom, you following, rolling your eyes.

Dean Winchester was the sexiest man alive, but… my god, was he irritating sometimes.

“Three fingers, sweetheart?” Dean asked you as you stepped over the threshold to his bedroom, the guns and random trinkets he’d collected adorning the place as usual. His bed was messy, pillow and blanket askew, which he tried to sort out but only ended up messing it up further.

You smirked, winking as you closed the door behind you, kicking off your boots and moving to sit beside him on the bed, cross legged while he was propped on his hand, legs outstretched. “You know I can take it, handsome, don’t be shy.”

Dean couldn’t stop the visual from popping up in his head. Damn demon him for being so attracted to you. Then again, he couldn’t really say anything.

He poured you three fingers of whiskey in a glass and handed it to you with a soft grunt under his breath, his eyes flicking over you for the umpteenth time before pouring his own. “Here y’ go.”

“Cheers.” You smiled, clinking your glass with his before sipping some of it. “I know you better than you think, y’ know that? You’re struggling, even a blind man can see that one.”

Dean just grunted again, shaking his head. “M’ fine, darlin’. Don’t sweat it.”

“Don’t sweat it? Damn, you really are struggling.” You snorted, taking another sip of your whiskey. “C’mere, babe.”

Dean scooted closer, clearly not anticipating how your lips would ghost his jaw before pressing an open mouthed kiss to it, humming and sucking on the skin, making his breath hitch and eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. “Darlin’—”

“Shh.” You continued kissing down his stubble, drawing a quiet moan from him, not protesting as you plucked the whiskey from his hands and set it on the bedside table, guiding his hand to your hair.

Fuck. This is what he gets, for not having a woman’s touch in a while.

“Mm, baby.” Dean couldn’t help but groan, especially as your hands pulled off his flannel — wait, when did you unbutton that thing? — and tossed it aside, his back hitting the mattress, eyes hazy and hands flying to your soft thighs as you straddled him.

Not like he was roofied, he just felt so drunk. Not on whiskey, but on you, your lips, your gorgeous body.

Now he saw why his demon self liked you so much.

He exposed his neck to you, which earned a hum of approval from you, your hand cupping the side of it as your thumb brushed his pulse. “Attaboy.” You whispered, one hand smoothing back his hair (the whimper that left him was almost embarrassing). “Lemme take your mind off things.”

You returned the favour from the first time, grabbing the whiskey glass and pouring the contents on his chest, the cold compared with your warm body making Dean shiver.

His belt clattered to the floor.

Jeans went after.

And your tongue was on his chest.

Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen something filthier in his life, it rivalled the likes of Casa Erotica— your tongue flattening against the divots and ridges of his muscle as you collected the burn of the whiskey on your tongue, moving down and down, kissing his v-line, nuzzling his thighs.

“Don’t you stop, sweetheart.” Dean pleaded, voice strangled, hips bucking as your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his cock, which was already needy for you.

Damn, the effect you had on him was ethereal.

You chuckled, licking from his base to his tip while your thumb spread his precome, his hips bucking into your hand with a needy whine. “Not gonna stop, don’t you worry.”

“Gonna taste you,” He panted, his skin glowing already with a thin layer of sweat as his hand twisted in your hair, “when this is done. Mark my words, pretty girl, gonna eat you dumb— son of a bitch.”

“Looking forward to it.” You murmured before you took him into your mouth, working him fast while grinding into the bed.

The sight of him with his head tossed back, eyes rolled and freckled cheeks flushed like that was incredibly hot, ok? Don’t blame a woman.

You pulled off him to suck at his tip, which had him fisting the sheets, eyebrows furrowed in bliss. “So good, handsome. Taste so good.” You murmured, which earned you a sinful whimper.

Praise kink. Noted.

Your signature scarlet lipstick smeared on him — good — and left your mark, sucking and licking until Dean came, spilling into your mouth, but you’re a trooper, so you swallowed the whole thing.

Before you could register, however, you were being yanked up the bed and Dean’s hands were undoing your shorts, shoving them down — ripping your panties — and taking your fishnets to your knees, hauling you onto his face and barely letting you register before his tongue fucked into your soaking pussy, your eyes rolling back like his did, moaning in sync as one hand shot to the headboard and the other his hair.

His hands were so fucking reverent, gliding up your thighs, kneading them, one moving to deliver a light smack and grope to your ass, moaning when you began to grind down onto his tongue because you just couldn’t help it.

And then his hand slid up your back, around to your front, unbuttoning your plaid so his fingers could pay extra attention to your nipples (you would obviously show up to his house braless, y’all out there’d understand) as one long, thick finger thrusted up into your pussy, ring pressing against your g-spot in a way that had his name tearing from your throat.

How was normal Dean better than demon Dean? Or Deanmon. Whatever, either way, he was fucking you right.

“What if Sammy comes back, huh?” Dean growled into your cunt, licking every inch of it while he pushed a second finger into you, then a third, stretching you out and sending vibrations and electricity through your body. “Gonna give him a show, sweetheart? Show him how much you fucking need me?”

He ripped an orgasm from you, drinking it up like he was parched before flipping you over, getting your plaid off and entering you in one clean stroke while his mouth enveloped your nipple, sucking and nibbling.

“Shit, Dean!” You cried out, the first coherent sentence you could make since you rode his face and even that meant don’t you dare stop. And if any other man threatened you with exhibitionism you’d probably slap him and leave.

But this was Dean Winchester, so you’d make a thousand exceptions as long as he fucked your legs out.

He marked your neck, pounding into you like he just couldn’t help it, entwining your hands and pinning them above your head. “F-Fuck, baby girl. So tight— shit. Could fuck this pretty pussy forever.” He rolled over, putting you on top, and you took the cue to ride him, moans in tandem as Dean reached down to rub your clit. “Ride me, baby, c’mon. Give it to me, need it all. Please, need all’a you.”

Well, how could you say no?

“So good,” You panted, which earned a whimpering moan from Dean. “Gonna give it all to you, promise.” You clenching around him and his cock’s ride brushing your g-spot and all of it reaching places you didn’t know you had sent you over the edge, and before you’d realised it, he’d come before you with a strangled grunt of your name, hands moving to your hips to help you through your high despite being in it himself.

Once you’d come down from your high, and he his, you pulled off him, collapsing on the bed next to him, both of you flushed red, panting and so damn satisfied.

“C’mere.” Dean rasped, holding a hand out to you, and you were confused. The hell is he doing? “C’mere, baby.” He looked positively wrecked — you most likely did too — but that didn’t distract you.

“Why?” You tilted your head, pushing sweaty strands out from your face.

“To cuddle, why else?” Wow, he was a secure man, saying it outright like that. “I wanna hold you, sweetheart.”

He didn’t hold you as a demon. Nobody had.

So you scooted up to him, laying your head on his chest and allowing his arm to rest around your waist, other one acting as a pillow underneath his head.

Dean felt upset that demon him hadn’t taken the courtesy to hold this gorgeous woman, but now’s not the time to address that.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” He kissed your hair, “I needed that.”

𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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insomniactic-daydream · 4 months ago

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Beside You...

Pro Hero Bakugo ♡ Pro Hero Reader

Friends to Lovers

Summary: Bakugo always held victory close to his heart, but he held you closer.

From being kids in the playground, to freshly new homeowners talking about marriage, and til you both took your last breaths with a smile... you were the thing he held closest.

(This is Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga's fault for cooking up Die With A Smile. Had me in my feels.🫠)

TW: ANGST !! and some suggestive writing but no smut. Read at own risk.

Age 6

Bakugo knew from a young age who he's supposed to be. Even as kids change their future occupation to astronauts to doctors, he never had doubt. He was meant to be a hero. He was meant to protect you.

"Hey! Stop pulling my hair it's not funny!"

The young blonde hears your cries from a mile away as two of the older kids from the playground tug your hair and take your toy away.

"Or what? you're just a pathetic weakling who can't even fight back." The two kids laugh as they continue to torment you.

Suddenly, a big explosion was directed at the two bullies sending them flying. Bakugo had never had such perfect precision with his quirk before. It was his first perfect and biggest shots he's had since his quirk manifestation.

"Die you extras! If you even think about bullying her again, I'll blow you to bits!" He barked like a high squeaking chihuahua standing in front of your body that was thrown down from the blast. Safe to say you never saw those bullies again.

"Get up. Your dress is going to get dirty." Bakugo huffs, sounding angry but still holding his hand out with a blush.

Your eyes widen as you take his hand to get up, and you give him a big hug, causing him to be taken aback.

"You're my hero!"

Bakugo never went to the park without you after that. Not if both of your parents wanted to deal with constant crying/yelling from the two of you...

Age 14

After the U.A. exams, you and Bakugo sit in his room as you hold your head in your hands in defeat.

"Stop sulking. You don't even know if you got rejected yet." He says in his usual huff but still holds your hair back.

You mailed your results to his house so you could open it together.

"Easy for you to say. You had the highest points. I swear it took me forever to get one robot when I was too busy saving others from getting mauled by theirs." Y/n sighs as she reflects on the exams.

"I don't know Kats, I think I did better in the Shiketsu exam than I did U.A. I'll probably only be getting the acceptance there." You groan as you wipe some tears from your face.

"Shut up. You don't know shit yet." He said earning a scoff.

"I know I did dog shit at the exam, and that's enough. Sorry to say, but I don't think we'll be in the same class, or even the same school."

"I'll go to Shiketsu then."

You let out an audible laugh before looking at his face, dropping you smile instantly.

"Holy shit. You're serious?" You say before shaking your head. "No, you can't. Your dream is UA. Don't be switching shit up just because of me." You say before turning your body towards him.

"I don't care where I get my license at. I'm still going to be number one. No matter what. Beside can't be training if your ass is getting into trouble the whole other side of town",He said, rolling his eyes as he looked away from your widened gaze.

"Katsuki-," you say before getting cut off.

"Don't make a big deal out of it, princess." He quips, signaling to you that's the end of the discussion. He's going where you go.

Silence falls between the two of you until the sound of a car is heard right after. You both rush to get the letters and begin to open them. Revealing two holograms of All Might congratulating them on their acceptances to Class 1-A.

You grab him and jump up and down from excitement.

"See you idiot. You were overreacting." He says with his usual smirk. You roll your eyes. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic.

"Yeah, but still.." You say before kissing his cheek, causing him to freeze up. You smile at him.

"Thank you for wanting to cheer me up and wanting to stay by me."

His stares at your beautiful smile before looking away.

"Tch. Always, you big baby." He says before pulling you into his arms as you laugh.

Your romantic relationship didn't wait long after that moment.

Age 22

"Last fucking box." Bakugo grunts putting down the box down in the empty living room filled with the rest of the labeled boxes. While your slumped body lays on the couch, you just assembled.

Something about wanting to make the house feel more homey for the time being or procrastination for unpacking Bakugo calls it. Still, he takes the opportunity to lay next to you.

"Why didn't we just keep our apartment." You groan as you look at him. He glares at you.

"You were the one that suggested buying the house in full, princess." He said. They both earned quite a bit the last year and had money to spare.

"Besides, that place was getting too cramped for all our shit. You know this already." He says before grabbing your face as you pout.

"Ugh, but now we have to unpack all of this." You say as he smushes your cheeks. You wrap your arm around him.

You both lean in for a kiss, embracing the comfort of the couch. You both pull away and sit up, looking at all the boxes.

"Cmon, get your ass up and help me unpack." He says, trying to reach for a box before you blurt out.

"Let's get married today."

Just as he thinks you can never surprise him, you say shit like that.

He was planning on marrying you, like hell he would buy a house just for a girlfriend. You were his first and only, no doubt. But he didn't expect how this would play out.

"What?" He says in a shell-shocked tone.

"The court house doesn't close til 9. We still have time to make it over there. So what do you say." Going up to him with a sheepish smile.

"Fuck no." He says to you while you pause, smile dimming while thinking you misinterpreted his goals with you.

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, it was stupid ide - "You say before getting interrupted.

"Fuck that's not what I meant, Babe." He says before grabbing your pulling away figure.

"I wanna marry your ass, but I'm not doing it at a courthouse just because you're trying to avoid moving into our damn house." He says before peppering you with kisses. His grip on you tightening.

"I just needed to make sure that meant moving into a home meant what I thought it meant." You mumble between kisses. Wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Of course it does, dumbass." He says, deepening the kiss as he walks and pulls you down to the couch. Falling into each other's embrace.

It's definitely a creative way of getting comfortable in the new home.

Age 45

"Fucking shit" Bakugo groans after the building collapsed on the two of you by the villian you both were trying to stop for months now.

"Katsuki." You weakly groan beneath him as the raging headache ensued from the collision of the building.

Bakugo look around them, sighing in relief as he realizes his wife is okay, and so is he. He tries to get but stops when he hears you yelp in pain.

"Stop, don't move, Katsuki!" You breathe tiredly. Only then does Bakugo look down and see the large metal bar piercing the two of you together. It's shocking the two of you are still alive.

Bakugo looks into your eyes as you whimper in pain. His adrenaline is beginning to stop as he winces in pain, too. But he puts on a brave face.

"Shh.. Fuck. It's okay, baby. We're going to get out of here okay, rescue shouldn't take long." He now says breathlessly holding you close.

You smile weakly at him, grabbing caressing his face.

"You're no liar, Katsuki. It's okay." You say while your voice cracks with emotion. He grits his teeth as tears spill out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry... I can't save us this time, baby " He says, choking on tears and blood. Your tears beging to spill, too.

"There was still so much I wanted to do with you." He sobs out as you listen, sobbing too.

"Fuck, we should've stopped ages ago, our stubborn asses. Should've retired early, go on a vacation, fuck maybe even had a child or two." He huffs out in a sad laughter as you both realize just how different your lives could've been if you had stopped being heroes year before.

Maybe your guy's death would have been more peaceful; one with old gray hair and wrinkles.

You give out a weak laugh. Your vision starts to get smaller, so you try to soak up every last detail of your husband's face.

"I don't regret this." You say choking on your blood. He stares lovingly into your eyes. His vision too slowly giving out.

"I loved that I got to spend every moment with you, Kats. I fucking love you're annoying ass so much. I couldn't imagine breathing without you next to me." You say with a weak smile, gasping for air with each pause.

Bakugo weakly smiles back at you as he brushes the debris off your face. Taking your beauty in for the final time.

"Good thing we don't have to" He says his final comeback as he pulls you in and puts his lips on yours.

Taking each other's final breath...

[If] our time on Earth was through, I'd wanna hold you just for a while, and die with a smile.

If the world was ending, I wanna be next to you~♡

Alternative Happy Ending

Shut up, I'm not crying you are 😭.

It's literally one of the most emotional pieces I've ever written in my life.

Blame Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga. 😭

#x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo #bhna bakugo #mha bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #angst #mha angst #mha x reader #mha x you #sobbing

186 notes · View notes

fadingdaggerr · 1 month ago

Note

first of all, your writing? phenomenal. absolutely obsessed with the way you portray everything. I've always struggled with being able to picture what I read, but the way you write makes it surprisingly much easier.

second, if you are open to it, could you maybe write a melissa/reader fic inspired by the song "Dessert Rose" by Lolo Zouaï? I listened to it for the first time in a minute the other day and have not been able to stop thinking about a melissa schemmenti fan fic to this song.

be my protector

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above, based on desert rose by lolo zouaï | 5.5 k

includes: angst, hurt/comfort, so much dialogue oops, r is scary dog privilege, slightly ooc mel

warnings: homophobia, religious themes/iconography, themes of guilt/shame

italics are flashbacks | st. rita - matron saint of impossible causes

translations: faccia di culo (assface), dolcezza (sweetness), cogliona (stupid)

note: this song is about a fight between identity and faith. however, i know legit nothing about catholicism since i was raised pagan, so if my info is wrong im sorry.

You’d forced yourself to spend a few nights apart so you could finish your own work, always too distracted by Melissa’s presence to even think. Three days at your own apartment was torture, but the motivation worked as planned. A little smile crosses your lips as you look at the Go Away mat, playing with your keys under the porch light until you find the one with the pink dot of Melissa’s nail polish.

Before you even get the key in, the door swings open to Jacob, shaking like a geriatric chihuahua, “oh thank God you’re here tonight.”

Ridding yourself of your jacket and shoes, you chuckle, “you made me sync our calendars, you knew I’d be here. Where’s Mel?”

He knocks his head to the side, “pacing and muttering in the kitchen. I interrupted and got called a ‘faccia di culo,’ but I think that’s a type of bread.”

“Not even close,” you say, patting his shoulder. Moving past him, you lean against the doorway of the kitchen. Eyes closed, Melissa mutters to herself as she walks back and forth. Nails of one hand dig into her side through her shirt, knuckles white from the pressure. The other hand fiddles with her saints, rubbing them between her fingers. Flushed cheeks puff with each breath, clearly trying to calm herself down.

Walking in, you seat yourself at the island, letting her come to you. A sigh passes her lips, telling you that she knows about your presence. After a beat, her pacing stops, and your hand reaches out to take away the harsh grip from her side. She tries to shake your hand away, but you insist.

Letting you this time, she keeps her eyes closed as you gently massage the tension out of her fingers. Green eyes crack open, looking drained and still lingering with anger. Entwining your fingers, you pull her to stand between your legs. Bringing her hand up, you press a kiss to soft skin, a quiet plea to know what happened.

The shake of her head is a stern not-right-now. Entirely not calm enough to speak without yelling, her head just drops to your shoulder. You lean your head against hers, squeezing the hand laced in yours. Her weight rests completely on you after a moment, letting your arms wrap around her to keep her upright. The hand clenched at her sides relaxes, coming to rest on your thigh. Scratching up and down her back, you feel the stiff breaths fade, replaced with deep sighs.

Coming to hold her hip, you push her back from you. Nodding up, you silently ask her to go upstairs. Melissa squints at you, a silent rejection of your treatment. Cocking your head to the side, you raise your eyebrows in a silent plea.

Green eyes speak for her, I’m not a child.

Just let me take care of you, yours say back.

With a heavy breath, she pulls back from you. Trudging from the kitchen, she completely ignores Jacob’s wide gaze that follows her. Loud thuds of her footsteps go upstairs, with you trailing behind her. You look to her roommate, giving him a thumbs-up as you make your way up.

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you move to sit next to her on the bed. “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you,” you start softly. “All I need to know is if I need to break out my brass knuckles.”

Melissa lets out a dry laugh, keeping her eyes on the floor, “no, no knuckles. Just Seamus. He invited me- us- to dinner at his place. This weekend.”

“Okay?” You say slowly, finger pointing into your chest. The youngest Schemmenti sibling is over at least twice a month for dinner, the only you’ve met, but adore nonetheless. “Why’s that making you so… this?” You gesture to her tense posture and she gives you a sly look.

“He always comes here. The boy can’t cook, what’s he even inviting us over for?” She moves her gaze to the floor, “it’s fishy.”

You nod silently, thinking for a second. If she had ever given you a straight answer on what happened with the other siblings, this would be so much easier. Seamus is only still acceptable because he was too young to have done anything. Every time you tried to broach the topic, she’d just say they were dead to her and that it ain’t good to talk about the dead. It had been months since you tried, after she nearly broke a door off the hinge over seeing her sister in passing at the charter school.

“Well I certainly won’t force you to go,” you start slowly, “but it’s dinner, baby.” Leaning into her, you grab her hand and lace your fingers together, “he’ll probably order some takeout, so no worries about him poisoning us. Plus you got me, I’m always on your side.”

Looking at you, Melissa scans your face as she weighs her options. A small smile toys at her lips, “how do you always do that?’’

“What?”

“Make everything better?” Melissa gives a faux pout, hand grabbing your cheeks into a smoosh.

Pulling her hand away from your face, you press a kiss to her palm, “I don’t, I’m just telling you my thoughts.” Rolling her eyes, her fingers graze your cheek again with the faintest of touches. Just as she's about to lean in, you add, “go apologize to Chicken Little, he’s probably used Google translate by now.”

Pink lips form into another pout. Raising your brows, you motion to the door. Biting her tongue, Melissa stands up and walks to the door. Just before she opens it, she strides back over to grab your face, planting a solid kiss on your lips. Turning back, she smirks to herself as she walks down the stairs.

—☽—

Melissa Schemmenti loved her family and her family loved her. Once.

Family dinner every night was always loud with so many conversations happening at the same time. Tony and Kristin Marie are always chatting about the show they watched together, John Anthony trying to recount his whole day to no one in particular, Mary Camille pestering Melissa about how they should rearrange their room again. There was a sense of peace in the white noise her family created. A comfort in the routine.

Once she was in high school, most of the family did not attend anymore. Tony was always off with his friends for days on end and Marie stayed up in her room, taking her plate silently with her. Melissa always stayed, directly at her mother’s side, holding her hand as they said grace. With every dinner, she always had to kick Kristin Marie to remind her to shut her eyes, unless she wanted to face the disgusted glint in Teresa’s eyes.

Arriving home late after tutoring, Melissa’s brows furrowed. It was so quiet in the house, eerily so. Walking towards the kitchen, she could smell the vegetable risotto, it was always her favorite. Following her nose to the table, Melissa pouted at Mary Camille in her usual seat next to their mother. The only open chair was at the very end of the table, facing only Teresa. Taking her place, she peeked up to her family, met with everyone’s eyes already on her.

Maria Christina, who was always glued to her side, was leaning away, shoulders bumping with Tony’s, who was surprisingly home. Looking at Kristin Marie, her gaze was not met. The sense of calm that had been flowing through her was ripped away. The edges of her vision frayed as the seat at the head of the table was filled. Green eyes that match hers stared back, unblinking and devoid of care.

Manicured hands rested on the table, nails tapping. The face across from hers so alike her own, it had always felt like the future peering at her through a furrowed brow. Tensing, she knew not to break eye contact.

“Melissa Ann Caterina,” her mother said, slow and acidic.

“Ma,” she answered, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Red nails dug into the wood, “who is Bianca?”

Biting her inner lip, Melissa looked at her mother with wide, terrified eyes. Teresa stayed stoic, brows only raising slightly, still demanding an answer to her question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Your dolcezza on the swim team,” her mother spat. A small pink notebook was placed on the table, bent edges flattened. “Does this ring any bells, cogliona?”

No one knew where her diary was, other than who she shared a room with. Her eyes flicked to Mary Camille, who looked as if she’s about to cry when her hazel eyes met green. If fear wasn’t pumping through her veins, she would have strangled her sister right this very moment. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Melissa nodded in response to her mother.

“Selfish,” Teresa hissed, “everything I’ve taught you, that Father David taught you, gone. You spit in the face of blood, of God? St. Rita won’t even want you.”

“I listened,” Melissa whimpered out, voice and hands trembling alike.

“Clearly not.”

The eyes of her siblings dropped from her frame, all watching their laps as their mother yelled relentlessly. Air hurts to breathe, skin crawling, bones aching in guilt. Melissa wished she could run, but she couldn’t even move. Her shaky hand rose to her neck, grasping at her chest. The gold pendant felt like it may just burn her.

—☽—

Wild eyes shoot open, body sitting up in the bed. Heaving, she tries to catch her breath, fingers squeezing at the comforter. To her left, you’re still sleeping, facing her with a hand reaching out. Trembling, Melissa removes herself from the bed, trudging to the ensuite. Looking at herself in the mirror, she still sees that sixteen-year-old girl, puffy-eyed and red-nosed.

The walls were too familiar. Brick everywhere, plastic over the lampshade, worn down rugs faded and fused to the floor. It’s the same, it never changes. The grandfather clock ticking at the end of the hall gives away the occasion.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Melissa leans against the cold wall to soothe her clammy skin. Her hands splay out in front of her, tightening into fists then relaxing, attempting to rid the tension instead of punching the mirror. Tears burn her eyes but do not fall, she refuses to let them get to her again.

Always seven o’clock. Always the open seat at the end.

In bed, your hand brushes across the warm space where Melissa had been. Cracking open an eye, you pout at the empty spot. The light from under the bathroom door draws your attention, staring at it as you wait for her to come back. Flickering eyes pop open at the sound of rattled breathing from the other room.

Stumbling off the mattress, you drag yourself in front of the door. Knocking softly, you rest your forehead against smooth wood, “baby? You okay?”

“Fine, hon,” comes her muffled reply, “just go back to bed.”

“Can’t without you,” you say, more awake now. No reply comes, just the sound of her breathing, still fast. The stuttering gives away her attempt to calm herself, desperate to lessen the weight in her chest. “Let me in, Mel,” you beg quietly, fingers tracing the grain of the wooden door.

Without answering, the door opens to reveal her, wearing only your t-shirt and a frown. Fat tears cling to her lashes, her stubbornness keeping them from her cheeks. Shuffling past you, she sinks herself back on the mattress, looking at you expectantly. Joining her, you open your arms to let her curl into your side.

Burying into your neck, Melissa releases a deep breath that had been stuck in her chest since she awoke. Letting her weight rest against you, her arm wraps firmly around your middle. Twirling sections of her hair, your eyes flit across the ceiling while the gears of your mind turn.

Melissa is so glad she’s not facing you, croaking out, “was just a bad dream.”

“It’s not just a bad dream if it makes you cry, baby,” you say against her hair, pressing a kiss there. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Shaking her head, she settles further into you. Hand dragging down, she tucks it under your shirt, splaying across your side. Pressing her lips to your neck, Melissa silently hopes that you’ll take it instead of an answer. Another kiss lands on her forehead, an acceptance.

Sleep finds you quickly, but Melissa’s mind evades it at every chance. Leaning away from you slightly, she simply watches you. The rise and fall of your chest, the way your head turned as she pulled away. Her eyes trace your face, attention catching on the slight scrunch of your brow. Guilt bubbles in her throat, hot tears stinging once again. Tucking back into your side, she places another kiss to your neck, this time an apology for making you worry.

—☽—

It’s better to not pry, no matter how much you wish you could right now. Melissa’s eerie silence has filled the morning, and you’ve found yourself thankful that Jacob fell asleep at Janine’s movie night. Sweet and well-intentioned as he is, his overactive heart might just land him with worse than an assumption of focaccia.

Rounding into the bedroom, the redhead sits at her vanity, diligently applying her eyeliner. Watching her place it down, you come up behind her to press a kiss to the crown of her head. Wordlessly, you detangle the necklaces beside her, arranging them. Moving her hair to the side, you put on the diamond her Nonna got her for her thirteenth birthday. Then her cross, silver to match the other chain. Her three golden saints finish it, matching the rings adorning her fingers.

Melissa hums a silent thanks, unscrewing her mascara. Stealing her room temperature coffee, you lean against the vanity. “You’re beautiful,” you say into the mug.

Melissa turns to you, black coated lashes on one eye, still-blonde lashes on the other. With an unamused face, she mutters, “only you think that right now.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” you match her quiet tone, tilting your head down to look at her through your lashes. Flicking your gaze over her, you finally realize that the sweater she wears is yours. A grin passes your lips, leaning to press another kiss to her head. Pushing off the vanity, you leave her to get ready alone, the silence making you slightly jittery.

Flopping onto the couch in the living room, you stare at the ceiling until in wait, losing yourself in your mind. Melissa’s fear about going to her brother’s was still so puzzling, clearly eating at her despite her refusal to acknowledge it to you. Just a bad dream, she had called it. As much as you didn’t believe her, and still don’t, you left it alone.

The creak of Melissa walking down the steps pulls you from your mind, sitting up to look at her over the couch. How small she looked, nervous and bundled in your ancient sweater, fiddling with the frayed edge of the sleeve. You extend your hand over the back of the couch, inviting her closer. Sitting up on your knees, you tug her into your space.

“We don’t have to go,” you say, “can just blame it on me, say I’m sick and need you to nurse me back to health. Or that I got shot, whatever works.”

A sudden laugh shoots from her lips, “oh, of course, the only two options for an excuse.”

“I went out in a blaze of glory, so sorry Seamus,” you say with a false solemn tone, bringing her hand to your heart in a double-handed clutch. “My last wish was beer and mediocre Chinese food, a shame we must miss it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Melissa fights back giggles. “We’ll go. It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.”

You know that she’s speaking more to herself than you, so you just nod. Freeing her hand from your grasp, Melissa shoves her feet into heeled boots. Looking over her shoulder, her expectant gaze pulls you from your seat to put on your Converse.

Grabbing the keys before she can, you pull the door open to motion for her head out before you. As you start the car, your hand hovers over the gear shift, debating if you actually leave with her so clearly stressed beside you. A soft hand falls over yours, wrapping your hand around the shift in silent permission.

A quiet drive leads you to the other end of the city, in front of a brick building with only a few cars parked on the street. Removing the keys from the engine, you get out to jog around the car, opening the door for Melissa. Green eyes scan the street, eyeing each vehicle with suspicion, but relinquishes once you wrap a steady arm around her waist.

Pressing the button with the crossed out name, knowing well of the Schemmenti habit, you wait for the buzzer. The click of the door unlocking comes, and you tug it open, holding it open for Melissa. With a deep breath, she walks in. Immediately, her hand grasps your own, almost walking behind you as you walk down to Seamus’s apartment.

Knocking is unnecessary as the youngest Schemmenti opens the door with a massive grin, “you actually came!”

You chuckle, shrugging off your jacket and grabbing Melissa’s from her, hanging them on the hooks beside you. Leaning into his side-hug, you joke, “well, I was promised sesame chicken.”

“It’ll be here, I called like fifteen minutes ago,” he says, wrapping an arm around his big sister’s shoulders. “And worry not, Melly Bean, I got a double order of crab rangoons.”

Melissa rolls her eyes at the nickname, fighting the grin on her face. Pulling from his side, she brings herself over to you, arm tucking itself around your hips. Your own goes around her shoulder, the other offering her a freshly opened beer. Immediately, she chugs half of it, not even bothering to look at your reaction of pursed lips.

The pre-game shows appear on the TV, announcers talking about star players and underdogs of the season. Leaning against your side more, Melissa tucks her head into your shoulder. Squeezing her shoulder in silent question, you feel her nod softly.

Half way through your beers, Seamus looks up from his phone, eyes staying clear of either of yours or Melissa’s eyes. Standing, he awkwardly lingers, “the- uh- the food’s here. So, I’m gonna grab the food… because it’s here. The food.”

Your brows scrunch, looking him over. The slight shifting of his weight gives away his anxiety, as if his repetition wasn’t enough. Without really thinking, your arm wraps tighter around the redhead’s shoulders. Pushing back your skepticism, you say, “then go get it?”

“Yeah, kid. Don’t need permission, it’s your place,” Melissa’s dismissive tone makes you turn. So tuned into the game, she hadn’t picked up on his tone, let alone his tense posture. Turning quickly, Seamus nearly runs out of the room to leave the apartment. Keeping your eyes on him, you watch him take a deep breath before stepping out the door. Simmering, you turn back to the TV, unblinking gaze barely focusing. What is this little shit up to?

When the door reopens after five minutes, two voices come through it. The tension in your body finally catches up to Melissa, head flying off your shoulder so fast, you swear she could have gotten whiplash. Turning to face you, a mix of fear and anger crosses her face. Glossy lips fall into a deep frown, stern eyes in place to fight her tears.

“I knew it was a setup,” she grumbles, pulling away from you to rise from the couch, “never shoulda fucking came here.” Following behind her, you keep your space.

In the doorway of the kitchen, Melissa pauses, staring at her mother. Sensing the eyes on her, Teresa turns, judging eyes flicking over her daughter before a crocodile smile crosses her face. “My Melly,” she says, opening her arms. “Come here, let me look at you.”

Shuffling, Melissa approaches her mother cautiously with crossed arms. Stopping just outside her grasp, she asks, “did you make him do this?”

“It was him that asked me if I wanted to see you,” Teresa says. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“He left that part out,” Melissa says, nails digging into her skin through her sweater. “What even got you here?”

“I can’t want to see my daughter?” The only reply the question gets is a raised brow. Teresa caves, “he said you had a new boyfriend. Well, partner, like the younger kids are saying now. But I wanted to meet him anyway, he here?”

The sigh that passes Melissa’s lips can be felt from your spot around the corner. It was her telling you to get over to her, forcing the bandaid off. With all your strength, you school your features, keeping the daggers from going to Seamus. A smile crosses your lips, sticking your hand out and introducing yourself, “nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Teresa says, eyes fighting a squint. The expression is so similar to Melissa’s that it makes you pause. Retracting your hand, step back next to Melissa. Green eyes meet their match, and the staredown between mother and daughter feels as though it may start a fire.

“Food’s ready to eat,” Seamus says through his voice cracking, “grab whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Seamus,” you say with a sickly sweet smile, stalking towards him to make plates for you and Melissa. Stepping back as you get closer, he keeps the island between you and him, moving when you move. Your eyes flick to Melissa, watching her wide eyes stare at the floor as she seats herself at the end of the island. Pushing her plate over to her, she silently accepts it, waiting for you before she starts eating.

The silence over the table is deafening, somehow reverberating off brick walls. Seating yourself next to Melissa, you push around sesame chicken until someone else takes a bite. Across the table, opposite of Melissa, sits her mother, twirling lo mein with precision. It’s a one sided stalemate, Melissa’s eyes never leaving her plate.

A scoff from Teresa echoes in the room, all eyes turning to her. “Seriously?”

Green eyes stay on the rangoons, “what, Ma?”

“You do this to me again?” The acid in her tone makes Melissa’s eyes squeeze shut. The more her mother speaks, the tighter they get, stars appearing behind her eyelids.

It feels the same. The brick walls. The long table separating them. No one touching their food. The way Seamus’s eyes falter when he tries to look at her. It’s as if the universe is hellbent on her repeating this moment. Black seeps in the edges of her vision, crackling and dense. Her mother’s voice feels like it’s in her head, like it never left. All the warmth in Melissa’s body sits in the center of her chest, fire burning beneath her pendants.

“Again and again, you defy everything I’ve taught you,” her mother continues. “I thought this little game was done, but of course not. Not for you.”

The anger bubbling inside you begins to spill, white knuckles gripping the edge of the table. Mask dropping, the disdain for the woman in front of you palpable. Whether it's your grip or Melissa’s shaking that vibrates the tables, you can’t be bothered to care.

“I prayed and prayed, begging for St. Rita to help you, to give you a chance. But you’re longer just a lost cause, you’re an abomina-”

“Lady, shut your fucking mouth!” You bark, standing up. Leaning forward on your hands you seeth, “you do not speak to her that way. Ever!”

Melissa’s eyes fly from her plate to you, brows practically meeting her hairline. Scanning over you, she can see the anger seeping from you. It’s unlike any other time she’s seen you mad, you’re beyond seething. Your name passes her lips, trying to get you to stand down, but her voice fails her.

Teresa rises from her seat, “you do not get to speak. You are not part of this family.”

“I’m not part of your family, thank God. But Melissa, she’s my family. And I don’t like people fucking with my family.”

The glare she gives you, it's so similar to Melissa’s once again. The thought alone makes a small smirk cross your face, looking at her like you’re daring her to try you. A face so similar to Melissa’s could never intimidate you, even if it’s worn by someone who hates you.

“If you have anything else to say,” you step closer, “you say it to me. Not her.”

“Okay-” Seamus tries to cut in and defuse the tension. Both you and Teresa turn to look at him with equal warning, immediately putting him back in his seat. Looking back at each other, the older woman points a finger at you.

“My daughter rejected her family, her God. And now, she’s burying herself deeper with encouragement from you,” she spits, lips curling in anger.

Stepping closer again, you meet her pointing hand. Voice low, you duck into her space, “was it her that rejected you, or you that rejected your daughter?”

Turning away, you join Melissa’s side, and hand wrapping around her bicep. A gentle tug pulls her from her seat, walking her to the door. Grabbing her coat, you wordlessly place it around her, avoiding her eyes. Shrugging on your own coat, you announce into the apartment, “feel free to not come by next week, Seamus.”

Opening the door, you motion for Melissa to walk out first, feeling her stern gaze on you. Silence in the hall follows you to the car. The second the radio begins to play, Melissa turns it off, just staring at you as you start the car and begin to drive home. Mouth agape, her words falter. Flicking to the steering wheel, she watches you flex your hands against the leather, desperate to smother the fire inside you.

Her eyes never leave you until you pull into her driveway, immediately throwing herself out of the car and climbing up the steps. Pausing at the door, she groans, knowing you have the keys. Stepping in, you both stay quiet as you take off your shoes and jackets.

Trudging up the stairs, Melissa follows you. Neither of you speak as you change into your pajamas, nor as you get in bed. Facing away from you, Melissa stares unblinkingly at the outline of her dresser. Turning to face her back, you watch her breathing, seeing the stuttering in the rise and fall. Leaning forward, you press a tentative kiss to her shoulder.

“I love you,” you whisper, patiently waiting for her echo. All you get is a little hum, and her face burying into her pillow.

—☽—

Heavy eyelids crack open as sleep crumbles away. Instinctively, you look to the side, seeing Melissa still sleeping beside you. Curled in on herself, she seemed to have shuffled further away from you before falling asleep. The thought alone makes you look away, turning to the clock. Only six in the morning, on a Sunday no less. Sighing softly, you roll out of bed, blindly grabbing a sweatshirt from the chair in the corner. Quietly as possible, you walk out of the room, sure to avoid the creaky floorboard right outside the door. Slowly moving down the stairs, you round into the kitchen.

Feeling too lazy to bother with the French press, you scoop grounds into the coffee maker. As the pot sputters, you reach above to the cupboards for three mugs. Part of you hopes that Jacob doesn’t come down for a while, leaving space for you and Melissa to talk when she finally gets up. The other part sort of hopes he does, that way you can delay whatever this conversation will be.

Stirring your coffee, you hear the door of the bedroom open, slow steps coming towards the kitchen. Hearing the familiar shuffle in her steps, you make Melissa's coffee, adding sugar to hers unlike your own. Leaning against the counter, you hold it out the moment she enters the room.

Taking it with an averted gaze, she gives a slight hum in thanks. Resting against the butcher block, she finally looks at you. Fading mascara and eyeliner crumbles around her eyes, lips no longer glossy. Even if she wouldn’t agree, she’s achingly beautiful. Her tired eyes are just as hard to read as usual, too many thoughts circulating behind jade.

A moment of silence falls over the space, both of you sipping out of your mugs in contemplation. Melissa places her mug down first, breaking the tension. Tilting her head, she prompts you to speak first.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, placing your mug on the counter next to you. “I shouldn’t have yelled- or swore- at her.”

“No,” she mutters, “you shouldn’t have. But why did you?”

Feeling your face warm a little, you look down at the floor, eyes tracing the grain of the wood. “For the same reasons I said. You’re my family, I love you,” your fingers flex against the marble counter. “And hearing her talk to you like that, I couldn’t just sit there. Even if she’s your mother.”

“I love you, too. And how much you love me,” Melissa says. Stepping closer to bring your attention back to her, her brow raises as she speaks, “and you need to keep your temper in check, especially if shit like that ever happens again.”

Scanning her face, you can see that the lingering anger from last night is entirely gone. There’s something close to appreciation, and a hint of warning with her cocked brow. Pursing your lips to keep from grinning, you just nod.

A hand releases from the counter, drawing an X over your heart, “no brass. Real or metaphorical, promise.”

“Good,” Melissa mumbles with a smile growing on her lips. Grabbing your wrist, she hauls you towards her. Soft lips press against your own, slow and gentle. Pushing into her, you back her into the butcher block, hands locked on her hips. Your tongue glides across her lips, immediately let in. Delighting in the sighed moan that follows, you smile against her. Her hands slide up your arms to cup your face, keeping you close as she deepens the kiss.

Eager fingers slip underneath her shirt, gripping warm skin. Goosebumps rise up your neck as Melissa’s nails dig into you ever so slightly. Just as your hands move to her thighs, ready to sit her on the counter, fast steps descend the old staircase. Jumping apart, you fix Melissa’s shirt, rolling your eyes at the interruption. Grabbing your mug, you press a kiss to her cheek before shuffling back upstairs to shower.

When you come back down, Melissa has migrated to the couch, sprawled across as she watches whatever was on. Rolling over the back, you carefully drop on top of her. With a quiet oof, her arms wrap around you loosely, letting you get comfortable. Tucking into her shoulder, your eyes linger on her neck, tracing the chains. Your hand comes up to fiddle with the saints, thumb brushing over in indented designs. They’d become faded, time and her anxious rubbing of the metal taking the impression away.

Feeling your attention, Melissa peeks down. Her own hand comes to single them out.

“This one’s from Nonna,” she says softly. “Mary, basically every little girl gets this one. And this one’s from Barb, John Baptist,” her thumb brushes over it, “he’s for teachers.” She pulls up the last one, the least degraded of the three, “and this one’s Raphael. Healing.”

You hum, fingers more so tracing her skin than medal anymore, “who’s he from?”

“Myself,” she says coyly. “Kinda against the rules, they’re normally gifted, but…”

You press a kiss to her shoulder, cuddling into her further, “rules, shmules. Intention is what matters. At least I assume it is.”

Melissa doesn’t answer, just tightens her grip around you. Tears fight to fall down her cheeks, and she lets them silently go. So free and comfortable in this moment, with no separation between either part of who she is. It has taken her so long to allow herself the duality, to strip away the bits of her faith that didn’t allow her to simply live. With the family she’s built herself, her Abbott people and now you, there is no choice that must be made.

note: thank you sweet anon for the compliments, they mean the world. this was genuinely one of the hardest reqs i have had because i didn't know this song previously. i went down a rabbit hole to understand the meaning and find a way to incorporate themes of the verses and chorus. thank god for my christian family for giving me something to pull from /s

as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. love you big time xo

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian

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cookie-crumblr · 8 months ago

Note

Can I request bully Ezra with a crybaby fem reader with separation anxiety

Yusssss!!! <3<3<3 this sounds actually so cute, like if innocent reader would have went along with it, i think this would have been the best way to really get to him too!!!

F! Crybaby Reader x Bully Yandere OC

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: F!Reader, reader referred to as she/her, reader has a vagina, degradation(little slut, slut, ) dacraphylia, gunshot, dacryphilia, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, size kink

Status: Dating<3

Ezra gets up to leave the booth you’re sat in, and you grab the hem of his shirt, your already watery eyes downcast.

“What is it, slut?” He brings some rough, silver ring covered fingers to your face and tilts your chin up roughly.

He’s wearing a white button down, his sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows.

The veins in his forearm arm bulge, and you flinch before you quickly let go, and then answer defensively, “Sorry! I just don’t want you to go…” tears brim your eyelids.

“Aw, my little slut misses me already?” He squeezes your jaw a little tighter and jostles your head playfully. As he leans down closer to you, his other arm snakes behind you over the top of the booth.

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. Yes!

He brought you to a pub earlier and was just about to ditch you here. “I’ll be right back, if you can keep it together for me, I’ll reward you.” He smiles at your pouty expression. No!

You watch his broad back as he leaves.

You’re sitting there in the booth alone, shaking to your bones with anxiety, trying to keep any stray tears from sneaking their way out of you. When you hear the *pop* of a gun just outside. Your body jumps and continues after that to shake violently like a chihuahua.

You think for a second about running out there, Ezra might be hurt! But you can’t. You know he’s fine… He has to be.

Soon enough, a blood splattered, six foot nine, strawberry blonde walks back into the pub, his two guys behind him.

He sits back down next to you, arm returning above your head behind you and his other now gripping your thigh. “Sit boys, I have a treat for all of you,” He tells his gang members while staring into your eyes.

Your insides flutter.

You lean forward and hug him around his mid section. He shoves you off of him quickly and looks away.

You smile to yourself, satisfied for the moment.

His grip tightens and you yelp and jump in the booth. “Eep!”

“Hah, I love when you make those stupid slutty noises,” Ezra purrs into your hair, his hand now wrapping around your shoulders and finding your chest.

He helps himself down your collar, and pulls your tit out, putting it on display as he massages it with his big rough fingers.

“You’re such a pretty little slut,” He coos.

He’s being so nice… Tears start falling freely now from your eyes and you sniffle as your insides continue to melt, and flow and pull toward his touches like the tide to the moon.

“That’s my pretty little slut, cry for me,” He roughly slaps your exposed mound, and then pinched your nipple, pulling on it as he does.

“Owww!” You writhe until the hand on your chest moves up to your jaw and locks you in place. His muscular arm is wrapped around behind your neck. He shakes you, and you sob.

“Keep crying,” the words rumble in his throat.

He enraptures your mouth with his own, your mind hazing as his tongue dances with your own.

The hand on your thigh roams to your pants button, and undoes that, and then the zipper fast after. His assault finds your swollen bud instantly, and he pulls his hand as far away as your tight pants allow and slaps your pussy a few times rapidly.

His fingers find your hole through your panties and he grabs them and yanks them to the side before diving into you.

His hand is pressed so tightly to you it feels like his palm is suctioned to your mound. He shakes his hand as his fingers continue to pump inside you.

He pulls away from you, fully removing himself and you hold your arms up to cover yourself and let more tears fall.

You feel so cold and empty so quickly from the warmth previous.

He on the other hand, was freeing his cock for you and getting ready to plop you down onto your throne. You can’t see that though through your heavy tears.

“Ezra…?”

“I’m here slut,” He gently picks you up under your arms and puts you over his lap. He puts you down a little ways first to pull your pants down far enough for access. Then he picks you up again and you press your hands onto the table to help.

He lowers you onto his member, letting it spear you open slowly. By the time he’s fully sheathed, he already bouncing you.

He pulls down your shirt so that both your tits are out now. They bounce roughly with your body.

The pressure inside you is too much with the force he slams you down, you feel like a fleshlight.

“Ezraaa!” You sob, “Kiss me…please?” You say in a desperate voice.

He flips you over in his lap, forcing a leg over his lap and then onto the leather and bent beside him. You straddle him, because he’s so tall it’s easier to kiss him, even in this position. You hold onto his shirt as if he’d disappear if you let go even just a little. The table is digging into your back harshly scrapping at you through your shirt.

Ezra’s mouth finds yours, he’s delicious, it’s a flavor that’s all his own, it’s comforting, mixed with a contradicting tenderness to his character… Like he’s really sharing an intimate part of himself with you just by kissing you.

His dick finally hits that spot that has you crying out at a volume that has any other patron that wasn’t looking before, aware of what you’re doing in that booth.

He pulls out and cums all over your stomach, while rubbing against your body.

You bury your face into his shoulder and nuzzle his neck.

Instead of pushing you off like normal, he just turns his blushing face away from you and tries to act nonchalantly. You giggle, happy and warm.

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Could I request a plus size!reader with James? Maybe where she gets upset because she can’t wear his clothes and she can’t do cute little girlfriend things like him picking her up and stuff like that?

Thanks for requesting babe!

cw: size insecurity

modern au ig because new girl

James Potter x plus size!reader ♡ 956 words

“I’m kind of thinking of jumping back to season four,” you call towards the bedroom. “Jess is about to leave for jury duty, and I don’t like those episodes as much.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got them all memorized anyway,” James says back. “Why don’t we just watch Friends instead?”

Your mouth twists even though he can’t see it, but luckily, the feeling behind the expression carries in your voice anyway. “Because it’s not as good.”

“Okay.” James rolls his eyes lightly as he emerges from your bedroom, now clad in pajamas to match you. “We can do New Girl again, but I need my pillow, please.”

You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance as you uncurl your legs from underneath you and prop your feet on the coffee table. James hurries over, sprawling out on the couch and settling his head on the cushion of your thighs. He’s due for a haircut. His thick curls spread out around him like the sun’s rays. He smiles up at you, dopey, and you tamp down a grin as you start the episode.

Not ten minutes in, there’s a flashback about when one character was in college. Bigger, dorkier, romantically inept. It’s played for a laugh. You glance down at James. He’s wormed a hand under your leg and is kneading the fat there like putty. It’s an absentminded gesture, nothing critical about it, but you wonder if he’s correlating you with the actor on screen, bumbling and the butt of the joke in his fatsuit.

You comb a hand through James’ hair, and he looks up, catches you watching him. He’s never been one to mind being observed. He shoots you a smile, catching your hand with his other and pressing it to his lips.

You smile back. “Do you ever wish you had a skinny girlfriend?” you ask him.

If he’s surprised by the abruptness of the question, he doesn’t show it. “Nope,” he answers. “Never. What would I do for a pillow?”

You consciously keep your smile in place, fixing your eyes back on the screen. The one character is telling the story of how embarrassing it was to lose his virginity. Like sex was borderline impossible, just because he was chubby.

You feel James’ head shift on your legs, and look down to find he’s turned towards you. “We manage just fine,” he whispers conspiratorially.

You exhale amusedly through your nose. “Yeah? I don’t near crush you every time?”

“It’s really cute that you think you could, lovie.”

You roll your eyes, letting them land on the TV. “Sometimes I wish I could do more…quintessential girlfriend stuff.” You can feel James’ eyes on you, but he keeps quiet. “Like when girls steal their boyfriend’s hoodies and stuff.”

You look down, and James’ eyebrows have lowered slightly. “You could borrow my hoodies if you wanted to,” he says. “Angel, you know I think you’re the perfect size, don’t you? Do I not tell you that enough?”

You give him a little smile, shoulders coming up bashfully. (He does. He makes little comments all day long—how pretty you look, how he loves your thighs, how soft and warm you are when you’re cuddling, how lovely and squishable your ass is in his hands.) “It’s not you,” you say, “it’s just hard not to think about those girls who, like, drown in their boyfriends’ clothes, you know? And your stuff fits almost tight on me.”

James looks at you considerately, nodding. You and he aren’t vastly different sizes, with James’ bulky frame and wide shoulders. You just…he treats you like you’re precious, but sometimes you wish you looked precious standing next to him, too. You wish he could pick you up with one arm or make jokes about you being tiny like a chihuahua or whatever else it is the boyfriends of petite girls do.

“I realize this is rather selfish,” James says, “but I actually quite enjoy that I’m able to borrow your clothes from time to time.” He glances pointedly down at his shirt, which you now realize has been pilfered from your wardrobe. “And if it’s baggy clothes you’re looking for, I could always get a couple loose-fitting hoodies, wear them around and get ‘em all smelled up, and then pass them on to you.” You must look about as lovesick as you feel, because his smile returns, brown eyes sweetly knowing. “Does that sound like something you’d like?”

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip to keep from beaming too embarrassingly. “Yes, please. Thanks, Jamie.”

“Course.” He gives your thigh a hearty squeeze, turning his head to press a wet smooch to your skin. “You know, those other girls are missing out on things, too,” he says. “I doubt their boyfriends spend so much time lounging on them, and I know how much you love it when I make your legs fall asleep.”

You snicker. “You’re right, I do love that.”

James’ smile spreads wider at your response. “I know you do, lovie. All for you, of course. Also, I know it’s not a hoodie, but I have that one red jumper that’s pretty big on me. You know the one?”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” You sit up straighter. “I totally forgot about that. Could I use it?”

“What’s mine is yours.”

“Thanks.” You scoot out from under him, and James sits up, upset.

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going? I was comfy!”

“To change,” you call back from halfway down the hall.

“Never change, angel!” You roll your eyes at the stupid joke, grinning to yourself. “I love you just the way you are!”

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yuwuta · 5 months ago

Note

How do you think megumi handles a jealous gf? Try to talk? Give her affectionate head pats? Hug her a little more? Or just rails her all night?

He'd getting an ego boost regardless btw

You have opened a wormhole for me with this ask and I’m gonna try to be normal while answering it but also I have to get this out so walk with me….

In short, yeah he does get a sort of ego boost, but it’s mostly… reassurance? He’s so spoiled with attention and he doesn’t even realize it until you’re Not jealous… and even though he’ll deny this until the day he dies, it’s so evident. He doesn’t really need you to get overtly jealous, he doesn’t need you throwing stones at people who look at him twice, or scolding him for thirty-second interactions with attractive strangers—but he does expect a certain level of protectiveness from you. He’s your significant other, shouldn’t you want to?—he knows he feels it. And besides, he really doesn’t know any other way to show his love for people, and more importantly, how to see that other people are showing their love for him. Megumi has always had dogs in the literal sense of his pets, but also in the people who care about him: Gojo follows him around and bothers him and nips at him like a spoiled chihuahua even if Megumi tells him off for it, Nobara invades his life and personal space like a bratty yorkie, and Yuuji is the husky he mistakenly gave affection once and is now dramatic whenever he doesn’t receive it. So when you don’t follow Megumi around, when you don’t nuzzle yourself into him to get his attention, when you don’t paw at him to get him to pay attention to you instead of whoever or whatever he’s currently engaged with, he’s so confused, and a little bit upset, and a lot pouty. Because why do you hate him… if you loved him, you’d simply bark for his attention, wouldn’t you 🙄?

So when you DO any of those things, when you huff when he’s not paying attention to you, or get upset that he has other plans, or tell him you don’t like the person he’s been spending time with instead of you, then that teeny part of him that loves that reaction is very satisfied. He knows he probably shouldn’t feel this happy to have you jealous, but he does, and such is life… sometimes he acts gruff if you’re being unreasonable dramatic about whatever you’re jealous of, but most times he tries to play it cool, reassure you that he doesn’t like who or whatever more than you—gives you a pat on the head, pokes at your cheek briefly, if he’s feeling really happy about you having your paws on him you might get a kiss to the side of your head; all his silent way of calming your nerves and saying “good girl,” because that’s the reaction he expects of you. Honestly, he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy if you really are upset with him, because he loves you and he doesn’t want you to feel badly, but also because he’s a little bit giddy that you want all of his attention like this, so who is he not to give it to you

#anonymous #he’s so…. he’ll do anything but Ask for attention but when you Don’t pay attention to him he’s like ?????#and when you’re paying too much attention/jealous he’s HAPPY about it??……. he’s so………… he’s not shit that’s what he is 😐#listen i tried to keep this ask normal but i could have mentioned his thing about putting collars on people but that’s more his jealousy #and possessiveness coming to fruition not Yours #how many dog analogies can i make with him… only time will tell 😁😁#oh to be one of megumi’s puppies….. even tho he says he didn’t ask for any of them 🙄 (liar) and now he’s #upset if you all don’t show him affection… such a fake idgafer #megumi x reader #jjk x reader

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awkward-walking-potato · 5 months ago

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if it's no bother I have another request jdjdjdjdj so wade who hasn't liked anyone romantically since Vanessa and now reader occupies all his thoughts but he's trying his hardest to ignore it until he literally cannot and finally blurts it out to reader. 🩷🩷

Back to the Start

Wade never thought he’d find himself back at Sister Margaret’s after everything that happened. But then again, Wade wasn’t exactly known for making the best decisions, so here he was, nursing a drink that would be too strong for most, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of the mercenary dive bar.

It was a place full of memories, good and bad. Mostly bad, but those were Wade’s favorite kind. And yet, as he stared into his drink, it wasn’t the past he was thinking about. It was you.

The club was the same, but things felt different now. After Vanessa, Wade had sworn off feelings—at least the romantic kind. He’d convinced himself that he wasn’t capable of that sort of thing anymore. It was easier that way, keeping people at arm’s length, pretending like he didn’t need anyone.

But tonight, something was pulling him back, a nagging itch he couldn’t scratch, a feeling he couldn’t quite ignore. It was you—he knew that much. But admitting it to himself? That was a whole other can of worms.

You’d worked at the club the same time Vanessa did, back when Wade was still figuring out what love was supposed to look like. You and Wade had hit it off almost immediately, but he never saw you as anything more than a friend. You were the person he joked around with when he needed a break from the intensity of his relationship with Vanessa. You were fun, light-hearted, a reprieve.

He never thought about you as more than that. Not until now.

It had been a while since he’d last seen you, since he’d last been in the club, but when he walked in tonight and saw you up on stage, something in him clicked. Like a light switch he didn’t even know was there suddenly flicking on.

You were dancing, lost in the music, the way you always did. But this time, Wade couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every move you made was hypnotic, every glance you threw out into the crowd sending a jolt through his chest.

“What the hell, Wilson?” he muttered to himself, taking a long swig of his drink. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to feel this. Not again.

But he did.

As your set ended and you disappeared backstage, Wade felt an unfamiliar pang of disappointment. He wanted to see you again, to talk to you, to joke around like you used to. But most of all, he wanted to figure out why the hell you were occupying every inch of his mind all of a sudden.

“Still love them strippers, huh?” a gravelly voice interrupted his thoughts. Wade didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan. The guy had a habit of showing up at the worst possible moments.

Wade rolled his eyes, not in the mood for Logan’s brand of tough love. “Screw off, Wolverine. It’s not like that.”

Logan grinned, the kind that said he knew better. “Right. That’s why you’ve been staring at her like a lovesick puppy since you walked in.”

Wade bristled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not a puppy. More like a wolf. Or a… a really angry chihuahua.”

Logan just chuckled, taking a seat next to him at the bar. “Face it, Wade. You’ve got a type. And apparently, it’s women who can dance circles around you—literally.”

Wade grumbled under his breath, trying to ignore the truth in Logan’s words. But it was hard to deny what was staring him in the face. He’d been trying to suppress these feelings for weeks, ever since that first night back at the club, but it was getting harder. Every time he saw you, it got harder.

He let out a heavy sigh, slumping over the bar. “It’s just… complicated, okay? She’s different.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Different how? She’s still got two legs and a pole, right?”

Wade shot him a glare, but Logan didn’t flinch. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. It’s not just about that. She was there before everything went to hell. She was… she was my friend. And now…” He trailed off, frustrated with himself for even thinking about it.

Logan gave him a look that was somewhere between sympathy and mockery. “And now you’re thinking maybe she could be more than that.”

Wade groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You don’t get it, Logan. It’s not that easy. I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not the guy who gets the girl.”

Logan snorted. “When were you ever that guy?”

Wade peeked out from between his fingers. “Touché.”

Before Logan could make another smartass comment, you appeared from the back, still glowing from your performance, a light sheen of sweat making your skin glisten under the dim bar lights. You spotted Wade and smiled, heading over with a sway in your hips that sent Wade’s heart racing.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sliding onto the barstool next to him. “I haven’t seen you around here in a while. Thought maybe you forgot about us.”

Wade managed a grin, though it was a little strained. “Forget? About my favorite dancing queen? Never.”

You laughed, a sound that was like music to his ears. “Good to know I’m still your favorite.”

Logan rolled his eyes, muttering something about “strippers and mercs” under his breath, but Wade ignored him, focusing entirely on you. He couldn’t help it. You were too damn captivating.

“How’ve you been, Wade?” you asked, your voice softening a little. “Really.”

The sincerity in your tone caught him off guard. Most people didn’t ask him how he was doing—most people didn’t care. But you did. You always had.

“Better now,” Wade admitted before he could stop himself. “Now that I’ve seen you.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting that answer, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Flirting with me now, huh? I thought we were just friends.”

Wade’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth to come up with some smartass remark, some deflection, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stared at you, the realization that he couldn’t keep pretending this was nothing hitting him like a truck.

“Yeah, well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maybe I’m not so good at the whole ‘just friends’ thing.”

Your smile widened, something warm and hopeful in your eyes. “That so?”

“Yeah,” Wade blurted out, his usual confidence crumbling under the weight of his feelings. “And maybe I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Like, a lot a lot. And maybe I’ve been trying to ignore it because I’m a mess and you deserve better, but…”

Logan snorted loudly, cutting him off. “For fuck’s sake, just ask her out already, Wilson.”

Wade shot Logan a glare, but you were laughing, and it was the best sound Wade had heard in months. It was light, free, like you’d been waiting for him to figure this out all along.

“Well?” you said, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “You gonna ask me out, or are you just gonna keep rambling?”

Wade felt like the floor was about to fall out from under him, but he took the leap anyway. “Okay, fine. Let’s go out sometime. Somewhere nice, not just Sister Margaret’s, because I’m classy as fuck when I try.”

You grinned, leaning in to brush a kiss against his cheek. “Deal. But you’d better bring your A-game, Wade.”

The feel of your lips on his skin sent a jolt through him, and before he could say anything else, you slipped off the barstool, giving him a playful wink as you headed toward the exit.

Wade watched you go, his heart pounding in his chest, a stupid grin plastered on his face. It was only when Logan spoke up again that he realized he still had a bright red lipstick mark on his cheek.

“God, you’re hopeless,” Logan said with a smirk, shaking his head. “Always falling for the dancers.”

Wade didn’t even care. He wiped the lipstick off with the back of his hand, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but this time… this time feels different.”

Logan just chuckled, finishing off his drink. “Well, good luck, Wilson. You’re gonna need it.”

But for the first time in a long time, Wade felt like maybe, just maybe, luck was finally on his side.

#deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #deadpool oneshot #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson #marvel imagine #x men imagine

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redflagshipwriter · 4 months ago

Text

Halfa Cass ch 10 pt 2

masterpost

Gotham was a closed fist that night, tense and ready. Black Bat gleefully swung out to match it.

Before they even left the batcave, Barbara Eyes called in to tell them that there was a hostage situation. Black Bat and Robin cleared out the civilians trapped in the building while Batman riddled the SillyMan. Batdad was still glowering at the truck to take SillyMan back to Arkham when a fire broke out in an apartment complex.

Sad.

Robin was too little to drag grown people out of windows, so he worked triage as Black Bat evacuated residents and hunted for pet cats. The fire trucks arrived. The blaze went out, but the building was still dangerous. Black Bat kept an ear open and paid attention to Robin through comms as she made sure everyone was out into the night air. He found the people with carbon monoxide poisoning and he gave strict instructions and he said, “Move! You, when the ambulance arrives, call for an AED.”

Black Bat moved.

The chihuahua in her equipment pouch quavered and shook, because he didn’t know that Robin was too 8-years-old to administer the correct pounds of force for CPR. The cat clinging to her front yowled a war cry and dug 20 toes into Cass’s armor. Good cat. They all went down the outside of the building together to where Robin was starting CPR. He glanced up at Black Bat as she arrived. Rhythm? Perfect. Depth? Not enough.

Again, Robin is small. Human body is the limit. Weighs about 50 pounds. Baby birds have light bones.

“Trade,” she said tersely. “Cat.” The dog was secure enough.

Robin professionally took the cat and Black Bat did chest compressions. An old man wailed, hands in his thin hair. The old lady laid there on the cement in a sooty house coat with bony, bare feet. Air puffed out meaninglessly with the lung massages. Robin leaned forward to do the breaths, cat held against his chest and cradled carefully with one hand.

Black Bat focused. Bone in the chest cracked under her hands. She grimaced, the expression hidden under her mask. If only she could reach in and directly massage the heart. She would give it the squeeze that would bring grandma smokey lungs back and the old man would stop crying, crying, crying–

Her hand slipped.

She stopped.

Black Bat looked at it. Her wrist was poking out of the victim’s chest. No blood, no broken skin, no force. Strange feeling, like being in fog and jello. She flexed her hand carefully and it brushed through bone and veins.

“How convenient,” said Robin. “Can you apply direct stimulation?”

She felt for the heart. Found the depth. Wanted it. Yes! Black Bat grasped carefully, butterfly-gentle.

It worked! Holy shit! Black Bat laughed incredulously. “Moving!” she said.

Robin held his hand up to check for breath. “She’s breathing,” he reported, so pleased. We did it. We have done the only thing that matters. He had? No curiosity as to how she had done this. She had big sister powers, that was how. Haha, Robin. So cute.

The man started to pray, little things like “Thank you, sweet lord, thank you, thank you.”

Black Bat stood up, looking around for something soft and warm. The lady had bare feet. She would be cold.

Fortunately, she saw the blue lights of the first ambulance arrive. She waved it over. A line of others were right behind it. The people who Robin had arranged for triage reported for treatment.

“I request that you do not speak of this,” Robin said tersely to the old man. Good bird. “It would be very inconvenient for Black Bat if the criminal element understood her full capacity. I, in turn, would make life very inconvenient for you-”

“Have a good night,” Black Bat interrupted. She reeled Robin away, found someone who knew the dog, and barely remembered that Robin had to give the cat back as well. Once this was done, they went back on patrol. Cass felt like she was in a dream. Maybe? Maybe being a dead little girl was a good thing.

There was a carjacker working busy-bee, there was a mean man shoving his boyfriend into a wall outside a club, there were a dozen little fights. They should have been too busy to deviate from patrol. But Cass felt a restlessness in her chest to go back, back to the mechanic. More than before, she felt full of strange energy and possessiveness. This was her Gotham. It was her territory. Pretty mechanic girls can’t go put magic guns on her street: it is rude.

So Black Bat stopped in a private place to consult with Robin, using talking hands. No voice: no Batdad weighing in.

Robin agreed.

Yes!

They went.

If it was anything like the other night, Miss Jacqueline would be asleep on her couch. They would sneaky in and loom until she woke up. Then, they would fight.

Or talk. Whichever.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #red halfa cass #dead silent

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banananutmuffin28 · 21 days ago

Text

HCs On Surviving Squid Game And Dating Kang Sae-Byeok & Ji-Yeong

A/N: I love them too much, your honor. @insane-hag, @eremikas-bby. Warnings: Very briefly and mildly suggestive

⋆You lucky, lucky bastard. Somehow, you managed to get not one, but two hot women after you?

⋆Even when they were supposed to be competing against you, they both always watched your back.

⋆One time, the three of you were squished into one mattress. It wasn’t exactly…comfortable, but hey, you got to have two pretty women pressed up against you, and that was a win in your book.

⋆Sae-Byeok keeps you away from Deok-Su and his gang.

⋆Ji-Yeong threatened Gi-Hun that if he let you get hurt, she’d be taking Sae-Byeok and you out of the team.

⋆The night before Marbles, a group of men in black uniforms had infiltrated Squid Game and knocked out some of the guards.

⋆Then, they took their outfits and pretended to be working for the game.

⋆Squid Game had always been under their radar, but they never had the clear, solid proof to truly prove that it was real. So, when Gi-Hun had ran to them in a fit of fear, their interests were peaked. They had to turn Gi-Hun away, pretending to not believe him so that they could track down where he would go.

⋆And now, they’re trying to be careful and aiming to shoot in such a way that it only looks like they killed the contestants. During the clean up, some of their moles will bring the “dead bodies” to a hospital.

⋆And, that’s how you, Sae-Byeok, and Ji-Yeong managed to all make it out alive.

⋆You had woken up on an unfamiliar bed, and demanded to know where Sae-Byeok and Ji-Yeong were.

⋆The nurse beside you had anticipated this reaction, seeing as the two women you were urging to see had woken up before you and demanded similar requests.

⋆She told you that they were safe, and ordered you to stay and rest.

⋆The first time you saw them both again outside of the games was in that very same hospital.

⋆You bolted toward them, completely tossing the nurse’s words out of the window.

⋆Fuck the gunshot wound on your head, you needed to make sure that they were okay.

⋆Sae-Byeok was holding back tears when you and Ji-Yeong fell into her arms.

⋆Ji-Yeong was openly crying though.

⋆Eventually, Sae-Byeok pressed her face into your neck, and you felt your collarbone grow wet. You tried to move your head, but Sae-Byeok’s gripe on you wouldn’t budge.

⋆Don’t worry though, you kept her secret.

⋆By the time you were released from the hospital (and the police station since you were all forced to give your testimonies), Sae-Byeok took you two to see her brother.

⋆Cheol was elated to see her, and it was adorable to see the normally stoic woman melt into her little brother’s embrace.

⋆But, when Cheol turned his gaze to you and Ji-Yeong (who Sae-Byeok had called her “very special friends”), you suddenly felt like you were under a microscope.

⋆Though he took kindly to Ji-Yeong, he gave you the stink eye.

⋆The kid looked you up and down, scrunched up his cute little face, and then simply walked away.

⋆Never had you felt so utterly roasted by a child. He didn’t even say anything!

⋆In an attempt to make you feel better, Sae-Byeok pats your back and tells you that he’ll warm up to you eventually.

—

⋆Since you’re dating two women who had been through hell and back, you’re extremely protected on both sides. Especially so if you’re a WLW (WLWLW?) throuple.

⋆They don’t want to ever risk losing you.

⋆Both Sae-Byeok AND Ji-Yeong will throw hands if someone gets your order wrong.

⋆Lord have mercy on the worker who does.

⋆We already know Sae-Byeok’s resting bitch face is terrifying, but when she uses it to its full potential?

⋆There’s a 50/50 percent chance the worker will collapse onto the floor.

⋆If Sae-Byeok’s death glare doesn’t do the job, then Ji-Yeong will.

⋆That girl may be short but MAN is she fierce.

⋆She will not stop demanding that they fix your order STAT.

⋆Think of her as an angry, deadly chihuahua (who may or may not sack someone in the face if the situation calls for it).

⋆Oh, and if someone purposefully tries to mess with you? Like, a random ass man stands up trying to intimidate you while also cussing you out?

⋆Don’t be surprised if Sae-Byeok and Ji-Yeong come home late that day.

⋆Shhh, don’t worry about it, they were just throwing away a dead body “taking out the trash.”

⋆Oh hey, look! Ji-Yeong bought fried chicken for dinner! Now hurry up and get some plates and don’t pay attention to the red stains on your girlfriends’ jacket.

⋆When you pressed for more information, Ji-Yeong just gave you a peck on your cheek and brushed you off.

⋆”It’s just ketchup!”

—

⋆When you guys sleep, you’re always sandwiched in the middle.

⋆Your face will be sandwiched in Sae-Byeok’s chest while Ji-Yeong will wrap her arms around your waist.

⋆Usually, Ji-Yeong’s hands will wander, her fingers dancing along the hem of your shirt.

⋆That little minx

⋆Her hands might caress your chest, or move down to rest on your thighs.

⋆When you inevitably blush, Ji-Yeong will simply pull away innocently.

⋆”What’s wrong, baby? I’m just trying to cuddle you.”

⋆(Sometimes Sae-Byeok notices the exchange and both your girlfriends will team up on you.)

⋆She would press one hand to the back of your head, keeping your head sandwiched between her breasts.

⋆The other will sink down to grab your ass.

⋆Might bite you once or twice. Or five.

⋆She’s just marking her territory.

—

⋆Sometimes, Sae-Byeok accidentally wakes you up at night by squeezing you tighter than necessary.

⋆Some part of her is scared that she’ll lose you two somehow, whether that be from her loan sharks or from enemies slinking back to enact vengeance.

⋆Sometimes, her mind will take her back to Squid Game, to when Ji-Yeong chose to sacrifice herself so that Sae-Byeok could live.

⋆Of course, you can’t have your girlfriend be so sad, so you kiss her nose and tell her that you and Ji-Yeong are right here.

⋆Your talking will wake up Ji-Yeong, who will crawl over to Sae-Byeok and flick her head affectionately.

⋆”You idiot, do you think you’ll lose us that easily? We all managed to survive Squid Game and our own personal hells. Don’t worry so much.”

⋆Then, before Sae-Byeok can retort, Ji-Yeong will wink at you and then pounce on Sae-Byeok, peppering her with kisses.

⋆You grin and join the dog pile.

⋆Sae-Byeok will grumble and try to weakly fight back.

⋆Her attempts are only half hearted though, because deep down she secretly loves it.

⋆(She’ll never admit it. But, that’s okay because you and Ji-Yeong already figured it out a long time ago).

⋆Eventually, your movements will die down and all three of you will lie down on top of each other.

⋆Ji-Yeong kisses you both on the lips and then ushers you to go back to sleep.

⋆You oblige, nuzzling into the crook of Sae-Byeok’s neck as you squeeze Ji-Yeong’s hand.

⋆You’re content.

#sae byeok/reader/ji yeong #sae byeok x reader #ji yeong x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game

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