#i just really struggled with the store scene

[crybaby-bkg]

just wrote 2.4k of this fic in my notes app who even am I anymore

[madigoround]

💜

[grassbreads]

Not thrilled about Vanitas losing his doomed by the narrative character poll, but I've been listening to Woe.Begone for comparison purposes, and at least he lost to a genuinely good competitor.

[cozycottagetarot]

The First Time They See You

🎥 Reading Contents:

First Impressions

Their Immediate Thoughts

What They Think About You

🎞️ Extended Reading Contents:

How You Make Them Feel

What They Tell Others About You

Impact on the Future Relationship

This reading is for entertainment purposes only! Take only what resonates be it all, some or none! ✨

LINKS: Reading Masterlist | Dividers | Ko-Fi | Patreon | Patreon Masterlist | Paid Readings | Paid Readings - $10 and Under - Open 🥂

Pile 1

First Impressions

Cards: Eight of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, Page of Wands, The Forgotten, The Founder

For some reason, the first thing that popped into my mind was We Built This City on Rock and Roll. I’m not sure if that resonates with someone here, but it feels relevant—maybe you give off a bit of a rebel vibe, or it’s reflected in the way you dress or carry yourself. Something along those lines.

When it comes to first impressions, the one you leave on your person might not necessarily stick—and that’s not a bad thing. It could simply be that while you remember meeting them, they might not, or the other way around.

I get the sense that your person sees you as someone who’s done well for themselves. They likely think of you as someone who works hard to get where you are. You might give off an air of enjoying life’s luxuries, though not necessarily in a flashy way. It could be more about appreciating the little luxuries, the small joys that bring comfort or happiness.

They might also see you as someone who’s open to adventure. A scene keeps playing in my mind: you’re chatting with someone, maybe in a store, and your person is off to the side, casually observing. It’s like the way you’d notice someone having a conversation—not really focused on them, but still aware of their presence.

Their Immediate Thoughts

Cards: Nine of Cups, The Sun, The Hanged Man

Your person will really like you. I think they’ll see you as someone who radiates joy or has the ability to bring happiness into people’s lives effortlessly. You might have this knack for lifting their spirits or brightening their mood. There’s something about you that will subtly shift their perspective as well—like a little spark of insight or inspiration. Part of me feels like this could have something to do with the way you’re dressed.

I also sense that this encounter will happen in passing—a brief, fleeting moment. Even so, they might think something along the lines of, Wow, this person is... Perhaps you have a super eccentric style, or maybe it’s just something about your personality that makes you stand out in an unmistakable way.

It feels like this will catch their attention. Their immediate thoughts might be something like, Huh, this person is different, or even, Oh, I really like them. Those are the kinds of impressions I’m picking up here.

What They Think About You

Cards: The Acolyte, The Sentinel Rev, The Catalyst, Amanita - Conduit, Pau D’Arco - Metamorphosis

Your person may think of you as someone with feminine qualities—exuding a nurturing, gentle energy. They might also see you as a bit whimsical, especially in terms of your appearance. That said, I feel like they could struggle to fully interpret or "read" you. There’s a certain complexity to you that they might find intriguing or even a little puzzling. For example, you might come across as someone who is wise and mature, yet youthful in appearance. You could also give off the impression of being a student—someone who is curious about others, always learning, and dedicated to personal growth.

There’s definitely a sense of playfulness they might pick up on, too. The imagery that comes to mind is something like a mystical or enchanted vibe—mushrooms, fairies, gnomes, that sort of whimsical, otherworldly energy.

They might also notice that you seem to be someone who’s always changing. For instance, maybe your hair is dyed one color, but your roots are showing in a different shade, signaling transformation and evolution. It could also be something they pick up on just by overhearing you talk about yourself—how you actively seek change and growth rather than waiting for life to happen to you.

Your person might think you’re someone unafraid of the unknown. They could see you as someone who thrives on challenges, always seeking the next thing to conquer or explore. There’s also a sense that they might perceive you as confident and self-assured. Depending on the context, this could even come across as arrogance or self-centeredness, but it seems more tied to how much power or presence you have—and your awareness of it.

They might also view you as someone artistic or deeply connected to nature. Mystical energy keeps coming through strongly, and I think that’s a key part of how they’ll perceive you the first time they see you.

If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read this post! 💚

✨Curious about how you make them feel? ✨ What whispers might they share about you with others? 🤫💕 How will that first glance shape your future connection? 👀💞 Dive deeper with the extended access tier on Patreon for the full, in-depth reading 🔮✨—or read "How You Make Them Feel" as a free member! 💌🌟

Pile 2

First Impressions

Cards: Eight of Wands, The Stars, The Devil, The Painter, The Gambler

This is so amusing. I feel like your person’s first impression when they see you is, are you the thing that will save them or the thing that will ruin them completely?

I think you come in very quickly, leaving your person all wide awake and alert. You’re this beacon of light and hope for them, but at the same time, there’s something so mysterious and forbidden about you. Pursuing you, or even the idea of having you, feels thrilling, but it also carries an edge of danger. That’s the vibe I’m getting here from the cards.

It’s like you have the power to show them a whole new world, and that world could be incredible, or it could be devastating. Either way, they seem willing to take the risk and dive in. Honestly, I don’t sense any hesitation from them—none at all. They’re completely enthralled by you, and that’s their first impression.

It’s like… wow.

I think they find you incredibly beautiful. In fact, I’d say they’re very physically attracted to you, and that plays a significant part in it. For some reason, I’m also getting that you might come from different cultures, which could add to the intrigue.

But more than anything, there’s just this overwhelming thrill. You’re so addictive and so enticing—it’s like, oh my gosh. That’s all I can say: oh my gosh. Pile 2, what the heck? Your person is going to be all in for you from the start. That’s their first impression.

Their Immediate Thoughts

Cards: Ace of Cups, Six of Wands, The World

I think doing this pile is definitely going to be a highlight of my day. I’m getting that your person’s immediate thoughts are something like, they just want to eat you up. That’s the phrase I keep hearing, and it feels like your person has such a bold and playful personality—it really comes through in this reading. They see you as someone who probably has a ton of romantic attention. It’s like you’re this irresistible catch, and people are all over you. That’s what keeps coming through: you’ve got so many people chasing after you, and honestly, I can’t see it any other way.

So yeah, their immediate thought is that you’re an absolute catch. You’ve got so much going for you—you’re stunning, beautiful, and it’s something I keep circling back to throughout this reading.

Your person also seems to think you’d be an amazing lover, and they want to be your lover.

What They Think About You

Cards: The merchant, The Pilgrim, The Alchemist, Rue - Protection, Ginkgo - Breakthrough

You seem to have a very magnetic aura, and because of that, you don’t let people in very easily. You’re discerning about who you allow into your energy field. Your energy feels heavily protected, and that’s something people notice about you right away. They might sense—or assume—that you’ve got a deeper layer to you, and I think that’s part of what they initially find so alluring. There’s something about you that feels guarded but also captivating.

I think they see you as someone who’s very confident and aware of your worth. You’re not the type to settle for less than you deserve, and that confidence is magnetic in itself.

At the same time, they might think you’re a bit lost or lacking direction in where you’re headed. There’s this sense that they could see you as someone who might be a little self-destructive at times—or at least that’s a perception they could have. It’s almost like they imagine you as someone who builds yourself up but then occasionally tears it all down.

That dynamic—of being both powerful and a little risky—is part of what they find so intriguing. They sense there’s some level of risk in being with you or around you, and that’s a big part of the pull they feel toward you.

If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read this post! 💚

✨Curious about how you make them feel? ✨ What whispers might they share about you with others? 🤫💕 How will that first glance shape your future connection? 👀💞 Dive deeper with the extended access tier on Patreon for the full, in-depth reading 🔮✨—or read "How You Make Them Feel" as a free member! 💌🌟

PILE 3

First Impressions

Cards: Knight of Wands, The Star, Ace of Pentacles, The Witch, The Diviner

Your person sees you as someone who is very energetic, optimistic, and motivated, with a go-getter attitude toward the things you set your mind to. Their first impression might be that you’re someone who comes up with a lot of great ideas and has the potential for successful outcomes—though what “success” means might vary. Rather than defining it specifically, let’s just say they see you as someone likely to achieve positive results.

They also view you as someone very hopeful, someone who tries to see the best in situations without ignoring potential risks. You seem to strike a balance, focusing on the positives while still acknowledging the negatives. Depending on the context, you might come across as slightly impulsive, but overall, they perceive you as charismatic and confident.

There’s a mystical quality about you, too. They might feel like you have all the answers or that you’ve got the path ahead of you figured out, which leaves them a little mystified. At the same time, you might seem like you’re in your own world, unconcerned with what others are doing and entirely focused on your own goals—what you need to do to get from point A to point B.

They might also pick up on an earthy, natural vibe from you. There’s a sense that you could have an interest in nature, architecture, or even herbalism. These impressions might come across subtly, but they add to the idea that you’re someone who knows a lot about those kinds of things, or at least gives off that impression.

Their Immediate Thoughts

Cards: Ten of Swords, Six of Swords, Page of Swords

This won't resonate with everyone, but I’m picking up on an image of someone wearing a shawl and a lot of bangles or bracelets on their wrists—depending on how they express themselves. Glasses might also come to mind, along with imagery of a greenhouse or a guest speaker at an event. Of course, this could be very specific and apply to just one person.

Your person might perceive you as someone currently in a "solo era." It feels like you’re focused on healing, recovery, or just regaining balance after a draining experience. This could suggest you’re not actively seeking social connections right now.

Alternatively, if you’re working on a project or an idea with long-term potential, they may see you as someone who prefers to handle things independently. This could lead them to think you’re not particularly looking to collaborate at the moment. They might also believe you’re already in a relationship, which would tie into their perception that you’re either unavailable for social connections or preoccupied with your personal work.

Another thing they could sense about you is that you’re someone who has "breakthrough ideas," particularly in environments like school, work, or professional settings. They might see you as a person who consistently comes up with fresh, innovative concepts.

Overall, they view you as someone transitioning—leaving something behind and moving toward something healthier. It feels like "recovery mode" is a recurring theme. Whatever you’re moving on from, they think you’re navigating it with purpose.

What They Think About You

Cards: The Warrior, The Botanist, The Mascareri, Horsetail - Patience, Cacao - Initiation

Their thoughts align with an image of someone deeply connected to nature. They might imagine you working with plants, exploring nature, or pursuing hobbies like painting, pottery, or other creative, hands-on activities—perhaps even as a profession.

They might see you as someone who strives for perfection, but they could also feel that you hide your authentic self behind a mask of this perfectionism. At the same time, they view you as nurturing, patient, and willing to put in the necessary effort to see something bloom, even if it requires isolation.

Wherever they encounter you, it seems like they see you in your element—whether it’s creating, strategizing, or working on something meaningful. There’s a serene and calm energy about you, almost like a "green witch" archetype, embodying a sense of harmony and trust in the process of life.

They might feel that you have a strong connection to the Divine, as many of the cards reflect this theme. There’s a sense of familiarity they might feel with your soul, as if they intuitively recognize something deep about you.

It’s possible they see you as a teacher or mentor in some way—someone they watch and learn from, whether intentionally or by circumstance. This observant nature suggests a level of intrigue on their part. They might think: “I know this person’s soul,” and this thought could leave them feeling both curious and captivated by your essence.

If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read this post! 💚

✨Curious about how you make them feel? ✨ What whispers might they share about you with others? 🤫💕 How will that first glance shape your future connection? 👀💞 Dive deeper with the extended access tier on Patreon for the full, in-depth reading 🔮✨—or read "How You Make Them Feel" as a free member! 💌🌟

[cyber333angel]

DEALER!BARRY X SPOILED!READER X DEALER!RAFE <3

you get a little too “spoiled” when with your boyfriends — barry and rafe!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

it was the weekend, meaning it was time for shopping spree at the mall! strolling around the coach store of your favorite big building, you struggle to choose which bag your boyfriends would pay for. behind you they walked, talking while watching you happily trudge in front of them. “blueberry or cherry?” you ask holding them both up next to you, posing with them in your pink tracksuit . “you can get both of em mama.” barry tells you and rafe looks at him, “she doesn’t need both, you spoil her too much.” barry rolls his eyes, “s’not like we can’t afford it big bruh, if she wants it she can have it.” you squeal at his retort, and hug him. “thank you bear!” giving him an attack of kisses on his cheek. rafe sighs “that’s not the point. you know how bratty she gets when she thinks she can have anything she wants. don’t act surprised when she throws a tantrum cause she can’t have something.”

“mhm.” barry says walking to the other shelf of jewelry with you, looking back at rafe and stick your tongue at him and say “bleh!” he furrows his eyebrows and power-walks toward you, shrieking at his scariness, you run and hide behind barry.

after shopping, you arrive home at tannyhill. “thank you rafe!” giving him a kiss for funding half the shopping spree “thank you bear!” you give your other boyfriend a kiss for the other half of funding and take your bags up to your room, placing them in your walk in closet.

later on a friday, your sitting on the couch with rafe, watching tv while he scrolls through his phone. bored you say, “rafey can we go to the mall? I smelt this miss dior perfume last week and I really liked it but we never bought it.” he doesn’t look up from his phone. “no. we already went this week, no need to go for a while.” you pout at him, “no but I really need it! im going somewhere with-“ he cuts you off. “what i just say huh? no. getting so fuckin bratty this early in the morning..” you look at him with a vexed face and you mumble. “I bet barry would take me..so infuriating”

rafe looks up at you from his phone. “what’d you say?” trying to escape the scene, you get up and walk to the the kitchen telling him, “s’nothing!”

“what i fucking thought.” he says quietly but harsh enough for you to hear. barry comes home later at night finding rafe in the kitchen opening a can of beer. “yo country club.” he looks for you and doesn’t see you with rafe as you usually are at this time, he asks ” where’s our girl?” rafe chuckles “sleeping off the badass little attitude she had today.”

barry, confused on what attitude you could possibly have, “what’d she do?” sighing, rafe shoots him a look “she started acting like a fucking brat cause I told her she can’t go to the mall again as if we didn’t go this week already. it’s because of you she thinks she can always have her way.”

barry had always been the one to be the most lenient with you, he loved you and would do anything to protect his girl. and of course rafe loves you as well and would do more than anything for you, but someone had to keep you in check and it was always rafe. “well come talk to her with me then. we’ll set her straight.” you wake up to barry picking you up by the armpits, blinking awake and rubbing your eyes with your manicured nails , “mm hi bear..”

“hey princess, we gotta talk so let’s go downstairs and get something t’a eat alright?” he readjusts the satin bonnet sliding off your head, you nod at him still sleepy. gaining energy you sit on the island of your kitchen while barry fixes you some milk and and a grilled cheese. rafe stands in front of you, you roll your eyes following from the earlier argument. he jerks his head back from the sudden sass, “don’t roll your eyes at me, you know your manners.“ he looks back at barry, “ you-you see what im talking about right? she’s getting too fucking rude. what is it, you need some dick? what’s with the attitude?” you look at him with all seriousness in your face “I wanted to go to the mall rafe!” he breathes hard through his nose. “im fed up with you. barry go talk some sense into that girl before i bend her over the table i swear.” barry turns the stove off, finishing your grilled cheese and cuts it diagonally placing it next to you with a glass milk. “what’s going on going on sweet girl? I hear you throwing tantrums round’ this house, what’s that about?” you pout at him “rafes being mean t’me saying I can’t go shopping!”

“well you know if we tell you something your supposed to listen even if it’s something you don’t wanna hear.” he tilts his head at you “hm? now why don’t you gone head and apologize to polo boy over there f’me.” you look up at him and huff, turning your back to rafe sitting on the couch you shout “rafe could you come over here please!” he rises from his seat and walks over to you, “don’t yell in the fucking house. what is it? you gonna apologize for the way you been acting?” you nod, “mhm i just wanted to say m’sorry daddy. I didn’t mean to be a brat, you just get me nice things all the time, and i guess I got carried away! it won’t happen again, promise!” holding up your pinky finger to pinky promise your boyfriend, rafe chuckles, interlocking his pinky with yours. “thanks for the apology baby, your gonna be a good girl for the rest of the week right?” he says nodding his head waiting for you to agree, “mhm.”

barry interjects, “well I think our pretty girl deserves a reward for being a big girl today right?” and rafe bows his head in a agreeing motion diving in to kiss you deeply from the right side of your body. your other boyfriend on your left, slides his rough hands on your thighs. “open your legs f’me mama.” you split your legs apart revealing the wet spot on your pink laced panties and through your thin shorts. barry takes off your short sleeping pants as well as your panties, letting the shorts drop to the floor, he puts your pink lace into his pocket. bending down he kisses you up from your calfs, up to your knees and to your inner thighs. “you gone let me make you feel good angel?” you nod frantically through rafes kisses. barry hooks his biceps under your thighs to bring you now soaked cunt closer to his face. “you smell so fuckin sweet for daddy, love this pussy.” he spits on your bud, sucking it harshly, making you squirm around the table. you whimper into rafes mouth from the intensity of barry’s lapping. rafe lifts up your shirt exposing your breasts and starts to pinch your nipples, with a different hand he unbuckles his pants. he grabs your hand and pulls out his cock letting you stroke his length. whispering “fuck..” under his breath, you paw at him faster. you shiver when barry thrust his tongue into your wet cunt, he takes his tongue out and shoves two fingers in and the other hand rubbing furiously at your clit. you take the one hand you have left and grip at rafes shirt from the extreme stimulation of your cunt. “be a good girl and come for daddy.” your boyfriend below you says, finishing you off. you arch your back, “mmph!” stuttering into rafes mouth, he lets go of your moistened lips, his dick standing tall from your jerking at it. hiccuping you say “that felt so g-good daddy.. I want you in me now please!”

“course mama.” barry gets up and lifts you off the counter, guiding you to the couch in the living room, you take rafes hand and he follows behind you. barry unbuttons his pants and his cock springs out, average height but so unbelievably thick. he sits on the couch and pulls you close to him, you hover over him letting him position his dick into your slick cunt. sinking down he praises you, “goood girl. shit, you taking me so well angel.” you mewl at him “mm it’s so big daddy!” rafe watches the scene and stands in front of you, gripping your jaw to force you to look up at him. “you wanna make daddy feel good too right?” you nod frantically and he lets go of your face, holding up his cock with one hand he slaps it on your cheek and positions it into your mouth. he thrusts his cock into your mouth making you choke, gripping your neck to make your gullet feel tighter. behind you, barry’s fucking up into your cunt with wet sounds heard all around the living room. it makes your head spin and clench harder around his cock “you doing so well for us princess, see how being a good girl gets you a reward?” you can’t answer with your throat being used but you do agree. “this fucking mouth..god you feel so good.” choking, as rafe speeds up the pace, he releases his warm load deep into your throat, thrusting as deep as he can to make it stick. “you better swallow all of it sweetheart..shittt..” he takes his cock out your mouth looking at your face. he grabs you face again “stick out your tongue.” you do as your told, showing him your empty mouth, cum nowhere to be seen but in your stomach. “good girl.” your eyes are half lidded and you smile up at him, still getting pounded from behind. “f-fuck daddy your going too hard..” barry smacks your ass, a firm slap that makes you flinch “don’t say that shit.” you sob at the harsh tone. “m’sorryyy daddy, your just hitting it so deep!”

“yeah I know mama..im bout to finish.” he puts in his last brutal thrust. plap-plap-plap and you cry at the rapid pace, taking your hands and placing them on barry’s thighs, a weak attempt to slow him down. looking up at rafe he tells you to “move your fucking hands.” you flinch, removing them and instead you reach your hands out to rafe, interlocking your hands together. barry at his climax, nuzzles his dick deep into your pussy, burrowing his warm cum into your pussy. “mm felt so good..both make me feel so g-good, oh goddd!” twitching when barry pulls out your cunt, he gets up from under you. they both admire you as the cum leaks out from your abused pussy. “what a fucking view..” after they finish using you, rafe lifts you up “let’s get you cleaned up sweetheart, did so good.” barry cleans up the pillows knocked off from this whole affair and goes to the kitchen, putting your grilled cheese in the microwave for you to eat tomorrow. your boyfriends both clean you up in the tub, they wash you off and clean out the load still buried in your cunt. they change you into one of their shirts, placing you in the shared bed you lay between them. you mumble as you drift to sleep “bear and rafey..can I go shopping now?” they both chuckle at you still acting like spoiled brat. “sure sweet girl.” as you fall asleep in their arms.

<3

[cracklinhaze]

wendy and dipper's dynamic is so important to me.

i know she's often categorized as just his crush, but i truly think she's the first REAL friend dipper's ever had outside of mabel. we know he struggles to make friends back home and tries really hard to be mature.

we also know wendy tries to be mature for her age, too. she's the youngest of her friend group and tries really hard to put on a whole cool, chill exterior: but she's just as stressed and anxious under the surface.

the whole "you were a freak" scene during the mystery shack party is further evidence of this.

dipper lets her be a kid again. WHICH SHE STILL IS. she's only fifteen, even though from dipper's perspective that's impossible cool and adult. she's not even old enough to drive. she still has nightmares about her mother dying. she's the only girl left in her family at home. dipper gives her a chance to not be so grown-up for once.

in almost every instance we see them hanging out, they're genuinely having a good time: building golf cart ramps, making up security camera games to pass the time at work, playing video games. friendship comes VERY easy for them. when dipper isn't freaking out about how to talk to her, they get along very well and seem to enjoy the same activities.

they keep each other's secrets. she often corrects robbie when he takes a jab at dipper and invites him to parties. she tries to make him look cool in front of her friends after what he did in the convenience store.

she gives him her hat. she takes his.

i've seen some folks say that it wasn't fair that mabel got close friends over the summer, and dipper didn't get any. to me, that's missing the obvious: he got wendy. they're best friends.

i think it's so important that it's NOT a one-sided dynamic. sure, he liked her -- of course he liked her. who wouldn't??? but he DOESN'T go the route of bill and gideon; he accepts the friendship, treasures it.

that's so fucking good.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GETO SUGURU — you always liked taking your boyfriend dress shopping with you, maybe it’s because he always gave all of your options a fair chance.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, bf!geto, public / fitting room / mirror scenes, my questionable characterisation (it’s been a while guys please spare me!) ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hii! another lil jjk thirst for now, im gonna be working on some more genshin also + a lil nagi post cos ofc it’s me <3

“do you like this one?”

you ask as you brush down the hem of the dress around your hips, meeting the dark, sharp gaze as it’s owner breathes out a low whistle before readjusting himself to sink deeper into his seat with a whisper of a grin.

“mhm, looks real good, pretty girl.”

you don’t know how long you’ve been in this store’s fitting room, but your boyfriend geto looks comfortable as he leans back in the sofa. his thighs are spread and one of his arms thrown haphazardly along the back space behind him as he hums.

anyone else would’ve probably complained by now but he looks content with dragging his gaze along your figure, tracing along the fabric that falls across your body so perfectly that he can’t help but want to peel it back, like he’s following a map to something greater.

“look at you.” geto’s words are like honey with the soft sort of drawl his voice takes with you, accompanied by the smooth twist of his neck as he urges you to do a pretty little spin for him — one that you do so easily as you giggle.

“sugu. you’ve liked all of them.” you feign annoyance, turning back to face him as you rest one of your hands on your hip, earning you a raised brow from your boyfriend before he’s shrugging his shoulders and pushing himself to stand.

you almost roll your eyes with the way geto stretches his arms over his head, deliberately as he watches the way you struggle not to watch the way every muscle seems to twitch as he moves. you pout your lips, and that urges him to take a few long strides towards you before his hands are on your hips.

it’s intimate, gentle, the way he holds you — looking down at you with a slow hum like he’s really thinking your choices over in his head. “have i? maybe it’s the model.” he eventually answers, accompanying it with a quick peck along the exposed skin of your shoulder as he leans over you.

“we need to pick one for the party.” you try again,

“mhm.” but geto’s barely listening, much too enthralled with busying himself in the crook of your neck, suckling and pressing his lips along your collarbones — hands squeezing and kneading at your hips and waist before they trace along the hem of the dress.

he steps into you, urging you back into the fitting room you just pushed yourself out of, like it was built for two and you’d have maybe put up more of a fight if he wasn’t so intoxicating. “how am i supposed to choose.,” you feel dazed with every wet press of his lips on your skin as he speaks, low hum of his voice making the nerves under your skin sing as you press your fingertips into his biceps, trembling with need.

“i’m serious, sugu—“ your words are a mere whisper, you can barely trust your own voice before he’s turning you to face the floor length mirror infront of you both. he allows you a shakey breath before he’s back over you, chest pressed against your back as one of his hands take your chin between his fingers, urging you to make eye contact with him in your reflection this time.

“i mean, see how pretty it looks.” geto’s words are honest, unwavering despite the weight of arousal that hangs in the small room and the press of his clothed cock against your lower back. both of you are only hidden behind the flimsy curtain, there’s not a lot of space in here but it only seems to push you both closer — like you’re hoping you could melt into him entirely.

“had to see it up close for a better opinion.” he grits, jaw tensing as his fingertips swipe experimentally between your thighs — the push of his wrist pulling at the hem of the dress until your panties are just visible in the mirror.

“suguru..” you try, gasp with the way your legs suddenly feel unsteady, readjusting yourself against geto’s chest despite the way you know he’s got you anyway. you can feel his hair trace along your skin as he curls over you, leaning over your shoulder to smear a kiss across your cheek before he’s meeting your gaze infront of you again, urging you to step your legs apart ever so slightly with his fingers.

“hm? i’m just making sure my girl will be comfortable for the party.”

it catches you off guard the way you feel his clothed cock push up against your panties, expertly until you’re so comfortable in him you could melt — letting his strong hold steady you as his free palm squeezes at your tits through the neck of your dress.

you swear you can feel geto throb against you, despite the layers separating you both — you can still feel the outline of his blunt tip, deliberately pushing into your swollen clit as he breathes deep into your skin. you rock into him, like there’s not a whole store of people through the thin curtain separating you both, like you’re the only people in the whole mall before you feel the vibration of his tone drip through you once more, but his sharp eyes remain on yours in the mirror.

“think you’ll have to try them all on again after this.. so they all have a fair chance, pretty girl.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[fayecreates]

Naked in Manhattan

A/N: pls send requests, i need them for my shitty trip. (A little update 2 days later) im gonna cry my eyes out if i have to stay her for any longer.

Premise: Teen!Vi x teen!reader, being unlikely friends, having a sleepover together and that leads to a bit of silly stuff (NOTHING WEIRD JUST KISSING)

Warnings: uh kissing? Idk, dont read this if you’re like 30 cuz thats a little weird. Probably a wrong description of friday the 13th, i watched it like 5 years ago so idk all i know is theres a sex scene at the start.

Words: 1,481

To put it simply, you were a weird kid. From 1st grade to now you didnt have many friends. It wasnt horrible, it was honestly pretty nice. Less drama to worry about and more time to get your homework done so you can do whatever you want. That was until you met Vi.

She was a pretty sociable person, not like happy to talk constantly, just unafraid of interaction. You both sat by each other during biology, it came to you easily but with Vi it took a little more time… after a while she started to ask for your help. It was never a demand to do her homework, and you could tell that she was really struggling. It started with a few short explanations, to a few short conversations about the shitty teacher, to plans to hang out afterschool. It was all so fast for you, was this even how friendships started? Either way it was fine, not like you could call it off when you’re 5 minutes away from her house.

Your heart raced at the thought of even being in her house. Was it weird to dress up for this? Were your pajamas appropriate? What would her house look like? You sat in the backseat of the car, gripping onto the strap of your bag for dear life, contemplating if it was even normal to be this nervous. I mean you were acting like you were going on your first date, and it’d be weird to date another girl, right? I mean Vi was pretty but wasn’t in a romantic way, maybe… your racing thoughts were cut off by the sudden stop of the car. You quickly got out, making sure you had all your stuff on you.

After talking to Vi’s dad Vander for a little, you sat on the floor of Vi’s bedroom, looking around like you about escape. She had a few posters, most of some boxers you didn’t know and some rock bands you also didn’t know. Her room was messy but you can see that she attempted to clean up a bit. It was a little after 9pm, Vi was talking to her dad about watching some movies on the TV. A part of you wanted to beg to be picked up and the other wanted to stay forever.

“Alright, you up to watch some horror movies?” Vi said with a smirk on her face, holding up a few CDs of shitty shock value horror. You smiled, standing up and walking quickly to living room together.

You both sat on the couch together, a space between the two of you. “Okay… Friday the 13th or Hellraiser?” She asked with a daring look on her face as she held both them up. You pointed to Friday the 13th, i mean you’ve heard about it more so it couldn’t be that bad, right? Vander was out going to the store, and Powder was out for the night by now. Vi put the CD in and you both sat watching. Maybe you spent a little too much time caring about if your posture was bad or if you should hold something, but as soon as the opening scene came on you didn’t know how to act. Seeing the people move in such a manner to mimic sex, you knew it was probably not real but it made you blush a bit. As you listened to the faux moans, you felt weird. You imagined yourself as the girl for a minute, it wasn’t too enjoyable compared to imagining the both of you there. But you wouldn’t do that with Vi, that would be weird, right. Safe to say you stayed silent for the rest of the movie, barely even getting scared if you excuse jumping a few times.

After it had ended you sort of just spaced out. Vi took a notice of that, assuming you were just scared or something. “…you wanna watch something easier?” She said after a second of silence, you just nodded. She quickly got up to look through CDs again, finally landing on Mean Girls to cleanse your palate. Putting in and watching felt a bit better. You both made fun of them and laughed with each other, it was weirdly bonding. The clock hit 11pm, you guys were a bit closer on the couch. You looked to Vi at a funny part, seeing if she would laugh, you didn’t know why seeing her smile made your heart race. Your eyes met and she smiled at just you, but you felt like you were caught stealing something so you quickly looked away.

The movie ended and Vander came back, telling you both to go to bed. You both obliged, even though you shared a small look, knowing you’d stay up until you couldn’t keep your eyes open. You both sat on the floor of Vi’s bedroom, attempting to think of something to do. “Maybe we could play truth or dare?” You ask, it was stereotypical but it was a fun game, theoretically. Vi lit up, like it was the idea of a century. “I’ll start, truth or dare?” Vi said with a smile, holding her pillow in her lap. “Truth?” You were bit unsure, still anxious if all your actions were okay. “Okay… who’s your celebrity crush?” Vi asks with the same smile plastered on her face. You thought long and hard, you couldn’t say some like Kristen Stewart or any other girl, that would make it so tense. “…uh… whoever the actor is for Elvira…” you say, hesitant but you couldn’t lie. Lying would be worse than making it awkward. She looked a bit shocked. “Really? You like girls?” She says like it just unexpected rather than weird. “I dont know… i mean probably.” You say, trying to push off the topic, it wasn’t something for you to decide right now, or you just told yourself that. It was silent and awkward for a moment, well for you. You forgot it was your turn. “Oh, truth or dare?” You say quickly, attempting to completely forget, or at least think of a way to give yourself short term memory loss. “Truth.” She says, her smile still unmoving. “Uh… have you ever dated someone?” You ask, a little hesitant. The warm light of a lamp illuminated Vi’s face, it was covered in scars but it was pretty to you. “No, datings for losers.” She says with a laugh, it was unexpected though. Someone so nice, so pretty, i mean you would totally date her— never mind. “Truth or dare.” Vi says, her voice daring. You couldn’t pick truth again, it’d a pussy move. “Dare.” You said with a surge of confidence. It was a moment of silence as Vi contemplated what dare to give her.

“I dare you to kiss me.” Vi says with a smirk, like she knew you wouldn’t do it. Your face became hot as can be. You froze for a minute, it was so weird to even think about doing that with any girl, let alone Vi. You didn’t know if it was a sudden rush of adrenaline or what, all that you did know was the feeling of Vi’s lips pressed against yours. You held the side of her cheek, as if she would leave if you let go. Vi was surprised, well that was before she responded with ten times the amount of force in the kiss. Almost straight up knocking you down, her hands falling to your shoulder and your waist. After a minute that felt way too long, she broke the kiss. Your insides felt crazy, you had never felt like this ever. Her smile was so wide as she stared into your eyes, your own expression just being plain shocked.

“…was that too much?” Vi asked, you shook your head maybe a bit too much. You started to smile, the warm feeling growing in your stomach. With only the smallest bit of hesitance she kissed you once more, well it was more like a hundred small kisses, but it lasted forever. Her hand that was planted on your waist gently moved upwards onto your ribcage, feeling your heart race. On the other hand, yours were stuck like they were weighed down with concrete. It was awkward, intense as well, she prodded her tongue onto your lips just a bit, as if asking for entrance. You separate your lips a smidge, her tongue quickly entering. It was awkward, you let out a few weird noises, she almost passed out from lack of oxygen. After breaking the kiss, you both sat there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do next.

“Uh… that was nice…” Vi says with a flushed face and a dorky smile. You nodded, you had never once expected to make out with anyone, let alone a girl. It was nice, very nice.

[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[eldritch-spouse]

I want Breg to grind his slit against mine 😔

The pressure would force his cocks to stay inside, but it would bulge enough to add some bumpy pleasure 🥴

[This is more of a struggle session than actual sex. Fem reader.]

TW: Unhygienic(?)

You wouldn't exactly say you're a sadist, but it's funny to watch the way Breg reacts to certain punishments.

Because even if this monster supposedly endured a past that centered mostly around the act of mating, it seems he's still far behind most others in terms of creative perversion.

Evidenced by moments such as these, if the way he's nearly visibly fuming trying to understand what you meant is anything to go by.

" You want me to keep them inside? " Breg tilts his head.

" Yep. " You confirm for the third time.

" But that way I can't make love to you, angel! "

" That's the whole point, Breg. "

He frowns, then pauses.

" Can I eat you out? "

" No. "

" C- Can you suck my slit? "

" Nope. "

With every rejection, he deflates a bit more.

The breeder glances at his tail, synapses connecting to form the dubious figment of a terrible idea.

" Can I- "

" No. " You emphasize, giving him a stern look.

The terms have been laid out clearly. After his latest impulsive stunt, which has earned you yet another ban from one of your favorite stores, you've decided Breg won't be fucking you for a while. This means he cannot penetrate you in any way, in any orifice, with any part of himself. And you're not touching his dicks at any capacity.

This leaves Breg with only one ridiculous option, relying on his slit for a mockery of stimulation...

You know it's a bit cruel to take a hypersexual monster's relief away so radically, but these kinds of punishments are usually the ones that stick the most with Breg and reap better results in the long-run. This is a necessary evil if you are to succeed in your seemingly impossible task of adapting this fool of a monster to modern society.

" You're so mean to me sometimes. "

The audacity to call you mean after the scene he made almost makes a blood vessel pop in your forehead.

" You can always wait it out. " As if.

You had a movie lined up to watch together if he miraculously agreed.

" But I don't want to... "

You shrug at the breeder. Then he ought to sort himself out, as far as you care.

Breg whines some more, hoping against all odds that you'd have a change of heart and allow the sweaty, horny monster looming over you to have his way. No such luck.

Sagging in defeat, Breg palms over his pelvis, tracing his own slit but not teasing it directly. Just enough to make himself shudder and huff. His unseen eyes are fixed on you while he paws at himself like some pathetic creature, you can only imagine half the scenes that must be unfolding in that fried brain and causing his hips to shift forward occasionally.

Frankly, for as much as he complains, Breg would be able to get off just fine if you told him he could only look at you. He's just that easy.

When Breg dips to shamelessly huff at your neck and chest, you lean your head to take a look at the situation below, finding the breeder already soaking the couch with the precum dripping off his slit, two fingers hastily stuffed in there, no doubt trying to stimulate the tips of his cocks.

He's a smart-enough guy, he knows this is the only way he can directly stimulate them. One miscalculation and they'll slip out, immediately ruining his chance to get off around you.

That doesn't make it any less of a pitiful, almost comedic act to see. The puffs of his hot breath around your neck cast goosebumps across your skin as it becomes humid, Breg breathes shallower in an attempt to get as much of your scent as he can, speed his own motions to keep up a semblance of stimulus. The monster groans something against your skin, his dominant arm straining with effort and fast, slick sounds ringing across the room. If the way his tail thrashes is any indication, this isn't really doing it for him, but he's trying.

And that matters.

" Good boy. " You encourage him, a small hand holding his head closer to you.

Although he gasps and moans in delight at your praise, Breg's irritation only grows. " 'S not enough... " He huffs.

" Yeah it is, you can get there. " You're fairly certain Breg could get off by just moving his hips against air.

" Noo- " His fingers' motions slow rapidly. " I need more, need to mate you- "

" Nope. "

" Angel please-! "

" No. "

Breg takes his hands off his pouch and buries his head on your chest, swaying in the discomfort of his own arousal.

" Please please please please please- "

Gods if his begging never fails to make the temperature in a room rise some degrees... But you can't be that weak willed with a monster like Breg, it just doesn't work.

" Not happening. And if you keep complaining then I'll just leave. "

" No- " His claws nearly sink onto your sides from the quick hold he established at those words. " No please, I'm sorry. "

You roll your eyes. " Apology accepted. "

Again, a few seconds pass as the breeder thinks of what he can do to make things work. You let him have all the time in the world to come up with an idea, because you would also struggle in his place. There are moments where Breg looks as if he wants to give up, but his determination to satisfy his desires has always been stronger. At some point, he settles on what to do, and the first move is to start tugging at your comfy bottoms.

" What are you doing? " It's more genuine curiosity than anything. You told him he couldn't eat you out, after all.

" Don't worry about it, angel. "

All you do is squint and watch as Breg quickly removes your clothes and dips between your legs. Although aware that he can't sample you, he decides that there's no issue if he flattens his tongue against your panties. Breg hums, disappointed that there's little taste but that of cotton, no matter how hard he presses against the folds of your clothed cunt.

His teeth catch onto the fabric while he begins to pull it down, removing the garment, another flash of pain on his face at knowing that he can't dive for the gold.

Once your panties are out of the way, you get to watch the monster think about how he's going to do this.

He tries to slot himself between your legs the way he normally would, pressing himself as close to you as possible. The results... Weren't that great. Breg tries and tries to readjust, but he's not getting the needed friction every time he awkwardly humps.

With a muffled curse, he pulls back and starts brainstorming again, moving parts of you from side to side, impatient. You roll your eyes throughout it, eventually ending up with one leg spread the other pushed up- Not the most comfortable.

Breg shifts then, twisting himself to fit the way he wants, like some kind of puzzle piece. More importantly, you now get what he was trying to do all this time, achieve friction from his slit directly to your pussy. Brow rising, you actually wonder if this will work for him.

Little did you expect that it would work for you too...

By sheer virtue of his frustration, the force Breg uses to grind his slit against your entrance applies enough pressure that it feels as though your clitoris is being squished and rolled around just right, making a shiver crawl up your spine at the sudden stimulus. Every muscle in his body tenses with his effort to find the perfect angle, the perfect rhythm, leading to some very frantic humping in-between harsh grinding rolls.

You didn't really expect to get invested in this. It's just a punishment, after all. But the breeder's misery proves to be a reliable and effortless source of consistent pleasure, enough that you're getting wet and biting your bottom lip, encouraging him with a few of your own motions to aid his pace. As wet as you may be, Breg manages to be wetter, soaking your cunt with his precum that allows for a steady sort of slide against each other.

Your excitement seems to be the missing trick, for as soon as Breg senses it, you can feel the way his cocks angrily push at a barrier they're not allowed to break, causing his slit to bump out humorously- But deliciously so.

Breg sweats and pants as if enduring a great workout, unsubtly drooling out the side of his mouth, grit-teeth betraying a pathetic fight for a climax that might not come at all. Eventually, his complexion starts twisting in a shocked and confused expression.

" What's... What's wrong? " You'd been clutching one of the cushions by now, hoping this would either make you climax or just feel good for a while longer.

" It feels- Feels weird. " The monster groans. " Keeping them in for so long... I- Hnng- "

You can only imagine what it must be like. It occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, his cocks swelled enough with desperation that they might be stuck in his body, squeezing against each other, unable to move. If it were painful, Breg would have gotten scared and stopped most likely, so you assume he's just crumbling under way too much pressure on his lengths.

" Ah, they're stuck? " You tease.

He halts entirely. " N-... No. "

You've said this a couple of times, and you'll say it again, one of Breg's few redeeming qualities is that he's a terrible liar.

" Then, I guess you can pull them out. "

" Huh?! " Had there not been that layer of skin in front of his eyes, they would have popped out his sockets. " Really? You mean it?! "

" Of course. " There's a limit to your blatant sadism. Or maybe not, because you know damn well he's not going to be able to push them out under this much arousal.

Breg immediately pulls back from you, holding still as he tries, rather humorously, to relax enough that, miraculously, his cocks protrude.

It's not happening. The monster huffs and whines, getting upset at himself as he even resorts to reaching in with a digit. No results.

Mildly amused, you push him further back, so that you can sit on the couch while he stands, nearly at face level with his poor, puffed slit. Small hands cling to his thighs as you rest your chin on his skin and glance up.

" Come on, Breg. I'm waiting... Don't you want me to play with them? " Your tongue hangs out, taunting and soft and warm.

If he wasn't desperate before, he sure is now, tail swishing near violently as he realizes his predicament. Helpless, the only thing Breg can do is thrill himself with the view of you so very eager to suck him off, and nudge his wet slit against your face. White claws reach down to grab locks of your hair and play with them, stroking over the sides of your cheeks and bringing you closer, as if that would fix the situation.

Ultimately, the only solution would be for him to calm down, because only with less arousal would his members deflate and his slit stop tensing enough for it to work out. But Breg has put too much work into this exercise to let it go to waste, so he's reluctant to back down.

In the end, all the breeder does is groan, almost on the verge of crying, while he attempts to get you to touch him at any capacity. Gentle hands palp the overheated and swollen skin.

" Please just- " He huffs, the denial and frustration melting into a desperate discomfort that has him rolling his head back. " I just need to cum, Angel please. "

Gave up, did he? Adorable.

Breaking the rule set earlier, you dip to kiss Breg's leaking slit, a short tongue ravishing it from top to bottom. Even when you try to squeeze it in and directly lick his throbbing cocks, they're so tightly packed together that you can hardly flirt with either. It doesn't stop you from trying.

On his end, the breeder seems grateful at last, taking this as the opportunity it is by rapidly grabbing both sides of your head and clumsily, feverishly, trying to roll his need against you. Again, he achieves a gross sort of hump against your beautiful face, even the protrusion of your nose serving to stimulate him further as he all but nearly rubs himself all over you.

With your ears covered by pale, wide palms and constant mouthfuls of overheated flesh coated in the tang of precum, you fail to pick up on the increasing volume of Breg's cries, the way they become monstrous and shameless in his finally approaching peak.

In the end, the only tell you have is the rapid twitching of his slit, the way his legs tense and the shifting of his buried cocks, before he bursts.

Maybe oozing is the appropriate word here, you'd say, because the only way Breg's seed can escape him at all is through thick globs pooling at the edge of his pouch and being subsequently pushed out by the remaining shots of his pent up load, dripping warmly to coat his hips and ass.

" A- Ahhn- "

Breg lets go of your head to whine and gasp, hisses making it through the gaps between his teeth, the sensation apparently being foreign and intense to him. He still moves his hips, perhaps hoping that he can grind it out of him faster, or maybe that's just his way of riding out the orgasm without being able to stroke himself.

It shouldn't be turning you on so much to watch the monster struggle, his overstimulation rising as trapped members are forced to keep in contact with his own hot cum, still sticking and dripping off him in a depraved show. Breg shudders, his tail wrapping around your leg for a semblance of comfort while you pet his cheek, greedily watching.

Only after a decent pause of trying to ride it down does the pressure deflate enough to give him some actual relief. The breeder growls in genuine pain when his sore slit is stretched enough, finally allowing two blue, half-hard cocks to pop out, coated in a sheen of his own seed and still pulsing from what you imagine must have been an peculiar climax.

" See? You did just fine. " Praising the horn dog after successful training is key. His shaky smile is all the confirmation you need.

It's a bit hard to resist torturing him a bit more, you think as you sink to your knees in front of the mess he made.

" Now, sit still so I can help clean up. "

[freak-accident419]

Good Looking Boy

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Summary: You go to a gas station and notice something peculiar. Immediately after, you wake up and acknowledge your current situation: in a chair, tied up to a stranger with your backs to each other, with restraints promising no way out. While you two figure out a plan to escape, you bond in the process.

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: fluff (?), gender-neutral reader (no pronouns used), kidnapping, swearing, mentions of death

(A/n: title was taken from Suki Waterhouse’s song because I find it funny how she was in this movie. Also jhutch is very good looking. Inspo from the interrogation scene in Stranger Things 3.)

-

You pulled up into a gas station, filling up your vehicle, and then going inside the store for any extra snacks or cigarettes. You had just finished up your evening shift at work, and in the process of driving home, decided to make a pit stop.

The gas station employee named Melinda, evident by the embroidered name on her uniform, scanned your items as you waited patiently, looking around the store and through the window. Then, your eyes trailed to the large security footage screen, showing the several different views of the property in a grid. However, one square caught your attention as you saw…

Was that a man? Tied up in a chair?

“What the hell?” You say out loud, peering closer at the footage of the struggling man in a secluded room. Were your eyes lying to you, or was this really happening?

You look back at Melinda, and pointed at the security footage with your thumb in hostility and confusion. “Hey, Melinda, what the fuck is thi—”

***

Your head was throbbing and your vision spinning. You slowly began to fully open your eyes, attempting to rub them with your fingers, except…

You realized your hands were restrained. You were restrained.

You were gradually gaining awareness of what had happened, piecing everything together in your head. The last thing you felt before your vision went black was trauma to your head, a short pain before losing consciousness. And now, you were in a room, in which its details matched the exact one you saw through the surveillance cameras with the tied up man.

And it only took you seconds later to finally realize that you were in a chair, restrained to him back-to-back. Your wrists were zip tied behind you to the chair with his, and bright orange duct tape restrained the both of you. And not only that, but your legs were duct taped to the chair legs as well. You could barely move.

“What the fuck…” you muttered to yourself in disbelief. There was no sign of Melinda in the room, however. She must have left you here while she would be preoccupied with working the store.

“Hey.”

His voice surprised you, only because it was a bit unexpected. He sounded tired and frustrated, which made you wonder even more what she had done to him and why, even.

It felt a bit weird and awkward to not be able to see his face if you’d begin to talk with him. This whole situation was weird. Having to be restrained to a man. Well, being restrained in the first place.

“Hey,” you replied softly.

There was an awkward silence. You felt like you should’ve been more afraid because you were practically kidnapped, but really, you were just more confused.

“Okay, what… what the fuck is this?” You asked before he could speak again. “Like, why were you here and tied up in the first place? And why am I here now? What the hell is this? Some kind of prank, or—”

“No, for fuck’s sake, it’s obviously not a fucking prank,” he said, which caught you off guard, because you didn’t expect him to be so hostile and vulgar after first hearing a small ‘hey’ from him. “Turns out, Melinda over there is a fucking psychopath who, first of all, burnt me with fucking coffee, then tied me up in this fucking stupid chair,” he explained with frustration and dismay. Well, at least now you knew what his favorite swear was. “Now, I have no idea why she would tie you up too, but otherwise, it probably was for a stupid reason as well.”

You pondered for a bit, actually trying to think of a legitimate reason why that woman would keep you captive here too, while simultaneously being slightly intimidated by this man due to his excessive swearing. But then again, you thought it was an understandable reaction to being held captive.

“Well… I seriously didn’t do anything at all. I just went up to the counter with my stuff and… and then I saw you on the security camera screen. And I was about to bring it up, but then… Oh…” You put the pieces together and found that Melinda would have held you captive as well because you’ve already witnessed what she had done—tie up and lock the man in a room. She definitely turned off the cameras after her encounter with you, ensuring nobody else would see them.

“Right,” he sighed. You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking of what to say.

“Hey, so… What about you, then? Was there a… specific reason why she stuck you in here, or is she entirely and wholeheartedly insane?” You urge, while wanting to know more of what kind of situation you were in.

“Yes, but… If I tell you, don’t be like… alarmed, or anything, or… I don’t know, hate me, I guess,” he says with a tone of exhaustion and fatigue.

That was definitely a questionable thing for him to say, but you figured that as long as you were both tied up together, for now you were both on the same team. “Alright. Yeah, just… Just help me understand our situation more,” you implore.

He took a short breath, then finally let it out. “Okay, so… I was robbing the place.” Alright, you definitely weren’t expecting that. “And before you say anything, it was for a good reason, okay? It wasn’t personal, I just needed the money to pay off debt from these stupid fucking bikers. But that’s all. I swear.”

It was kind of weird to you, how much you sort of tolerated this—tolerated him.

“Hm. So, you’re telling me… She tied you up here because you were a threat?” You asked, which seemed like a pretty valid reason why—like a survival instinct. But you figured that since you were also tied up as well, there were probably more layers to her as a person.

“Well, yes… and no. I don’t know. She… She wanted to go with me after I’d pay the bikers. Like, get out of here with me. Which was really weird to me, because, like, why the fuck would you want to go with someone who robbed you with a gun, you know?” He said, making you now think more about him and what he had done—how he got himself in this situation in the first place. “Look, she didn’t even call the damn cops. That’s how… weird this shit is. I don’t know what she wants. I guess she feels, like… shit—alone and neglected? She was saying how… how everyone paid more attention to her co-worker instead of her. But now she’s dragged you into this goddamn mess, and all of this just feels so unnecessary. I seriously don’t know what her motives are now.”

You nodded as you heard this. You could agree with that. This gas station employee was definitely unhinged at some extent. You just hoped you would be able to live after all this.

“Hey, so,” you began with slight hesitation, feeling more curious about this man. “What’s your name?”

You could swear you heard a light snicker escape his lips, probably from how unusually compliant and calm you two were to each other. It could’ve been the adrenaline, or something. “I’m Billy,” he answers very smoothly.

“Hm,” you hum shortly as you raise an eyebrow, looking at the same, light blue wall you had been facing ever since you woke up. “Well, I’m Y/n,” you tell him.

“Y/n,” he repeats softly to himself, letting out another chuckle. “That’s a hell of a nice name.”

You scoff from amusement and smile to yourself. “Thanks,” you reply, not really expecting that comment, appreciating it, however. “Looks like we’re gonna be here for a while,” you remark.

“Yup,” he said, followed by an exasperated sigh. “Don’t know when that fucking psycho chick is coming back, but we should use this time to make an escape plan, or something.”

“Right.” You observed your surroundings, seeing just a bunch of random junk, shelves, and a desk, gradually feeling a bit of claustrophobia. At least you were able to infer that the room you two were trapped in was the employee’s only room or office. However, something finally caught your eye, making your heart race.

“Hey, um, Billy?” You say as you try to clear your vision, squinting at the object you think you see.

“Yeah?” He answered.

“I think… I think I see a pair of scissors… over there.” Your vision had completely cleared up as you saw grey scissors sitting on top of a wooden desk.

“Holy shit, really?” You heard surprise and hope in his voice, which sort of lifted you up as well.

“Yeah,” you smile to yourself. “It’s like, on a table in the corner, I could probably find a way to get it in my hands..” You didn’t notice or acknowledged it before, but you finally realized that since your wrists were tied with his, the backs of your hands were touching the whole time. You also noted that you could feel a thin metal against your index finger—he was wearing a ring. However, the slight warmness and softness of his hand strangely brought you mere comfort.

You shook it out of your mindset though, as you focused rather on escaping. “Hey, so,” you began, looking down at your shoes, then up at the scissors. “It’s a pretty good distance away. I’m not sure how we can reach it.”

“Well, um, maybe we can try to, like, scoot at the same time to get closer to it. Like I could probably scoot back while you scoot forward.”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, good idea,” you reply. You look down at your shoes again, in which they were barely touching the ground due to the way they were taped. “Fuck, this is gonna be difficult,” you scowl.

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Billy reassures. “We can just try to scoot our whole bodies. Like, hop or something, anything.” You listened to him, preparing to obey his plan. “Okay, on the count of three, we scoot towards that desk, alright?” You hum in agreement. “Okay, right. One, two, three…”

With the two of you scooting at the same time, you moved yourself and the chairs about an inch forward. The scissors were still pretty far, but you figured it wouldn’t take too long to continue scooting.

“Okay, good,” he praises, impressed by the progression. “Okay, again. One, two, three…”

You two did the same movement again, which brought you even closer to the desk, but still not close enough. You grinned as you sought the possibility of escaping and leaving after this, to immediately go to the authorities and detain Melinda.

“Yes! We’re-we’re almost there, just a couple more,” you observe with enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay, okay,” the way he spoke made you just know he had a big grin on his lips. “One… two… three…”

“Fuck!” You blurted as you felt a sharp pain after falling onto the floor with him, the chairs losing balance and collapsing ever since you tried to scoot forward once more.

“Goddamnit! Fuck!” He exclaimed in frustration as the two of you were now on the floor on your sides, still very much secured to your chairs. You hear him mumble a few swears, hissing from slight pain, until he heard your reaction to this, face contorting as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are… Are you fucking laughing?”

Indeed you were. You were sort of cackling on the floor, so very amused by all of this, but you didn’t really know why. But then again, humor was one of your instinctive reactions to life-threatening situations, so it would make sense for your mind to manipulate the dire reality of the circumstance. “I’m sorry,” your laugh transitioned into soft, dispersed giggles as your eyes face the wall once more. “Sorry. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t laugh,” you say as you were still grinning. “I just… cannot believe that I am… tied up to a stranger in a goddamn gas station. At the hands of a… an apparently lonely gas station worker who took things too far? It’s bullshit, man! People are fucking crazy!”

Billy scoffed from impatience. “Y/n, I get that, but this is fucking serious, okay? I know that this seems like there’ll be an easy way out of this, but Melinda is a fucking psycho. Shot and killed her co-worker, burnt my—”

“Wait, what?” You interrupted as you thought you didn’t hear it right. “She killed her co-worker?”

“Yeah, well… Technically, okay? I wasn’t actually going to shoot her, but then Melinda spilled fucking hot coffee on me which made me instinctively pull the goddamn trigger,” he explained, now making you question everything. You don’t know this man, why trust him as well? Was he the bad guy all along? Then it looked like he knew what you were thinking, because he added, “Look, if Melinda wasn’t crazy, then you wouldn’t be fucking tied up to me as well, alright?”

You sighed. That was true. “Right.” It was a bit of alarming news to you, the fact that someone died here tonight at the hands of the man tied up behind you, but also at the hands of the woman who tied you up. You didn’t really want to think about that and your possible demise, so you shifted the subject. “Hey, so… Why a gas station?”

You heard Billy scoff. He seemed to do that a lot, you presume. “Well, I figured there’d be a lot of money here. You know, gas is one of the most expensive fucking things in the world.”

“Well, true, but nobody pays with cash anymore, man. Tell me, how much did you get from the registers?” You chuckle.

“Like… less than a hundred dollars—”

“Pftt. See, y—”

“But I got into the safe. Well, technically Melinda did. There was, like, at least thousands,” he says.

“And you said you needed to pay off, like… bikers?” You asked.

“Yes. And those stupid clown assholes know I’m robbing this place, so they’ll kill me if I don’t have their fucking money.”

“Damn, dude! What exactly did you do to piss them off?” You laughed softly.

“Debt and my anger issues,” he answered. “That’s sort of what got me here in the first place. I could’ve left with the money already, but Sheila kept fucking with me.”

“Sheila?”

“The co-worker,” he clarified. Oh, right.

“Hey, maybe once this is all over, I’ll get you an anger management book in time for Christmas, alright?” You joke sweetly, hearing soft laughter from the both of you.

“Honestly, I definitely need one of those. Like, I swear I’m working on myself, but clearly—”

“Clearly, your actions have shown—” you began to add.

“That I still have a lot to work on, yes,” he chuckled. He seemed to do that a lot, too. And, if you were going to be truly honest with yourself, you thought it was charming—that he was charming.

To think, that you’d be charmed by a gas station robber who just happened to be tied up to you. Right. That didn’t sound right. It was probably some shared trauma thing that made you have these weird feelings. So they had to be fake. Right?

But you were smiling way too much. And he wasn’t even able to see your face, so why would you be smiling—other than the fact that he could be truly captivated by him?

“Y/n?”

You slightly flinched as you were brought back to the present, realizing he had been speaking to you while you were reflecting to yourself.

“Uh-yeah?”

“What was it?” He asked.

“What was what?”

“Were you even listening to me?”

“Spaced out. Sorry,” you briefly answered.

He let out a soft, amused chuckle. Despite the fact that his face had been burned, with the biker gang on their way to kill him, and the way he was tied up by a crazy lady, he sort of enjoyed this with you. You were entertaining and patient with him. It felt refreshing. And he admired that.

“I asked you what brought you to Paradise Pumps tonight,” he repeated for you.

“Oh. Yeah, um…” You thought about how your day went today. “Just finished my evening shift and when I was driving home, I realized the fuel level was pretty low, so I stopped by.”

He hums in response. Then asks, “Evening shift? What’s your work?”

“Retail,” you answer, chuckling to yourself. “I know it’s not as interesting as gas station robber, but—“

“Hey. I don’t normally fucking do this. In fact, like, this was my first time robbing a place. I needed the money that bad. I’m not, like, some criminal,” he says with urge. You could tell he was a bit sensitive about that.

There was a sort of comfortable silence for a while as you thought about it. “Tell me about yourself, then.” You ask gently. “Like, other than your… shit with the bikers and robbing gas stations.”

Billy shrugged as he tried to think of how to answer you. “Umm… I was born and raised in Kentucky,” he began.

“Go Wildcats,” you softly add, smiling to yourself.

He slightly giggled, and there was a smile on Billy’s face as well, but with your circumstances, you couldn’t see. In fact, you never really knew what he looked like, and he didn’t know what you looked like. You tried to remember from seeing the surveillance camera, but it was too quick of a memory to have a clear picture of him in your head.

“And… I don’t know. What do you wanna know?” He questioned.

You hum. “Just convince me you’re not really a bad guy.”

You heard a sigh leave his lips. “I… I told you… I’m… I’m not a bad guy. I’m not some… evil criminal guy and I’m not a killer. I’m just… currently involved in very complicated circumstances.”

You decided to hear him out, dropping it completely. “So, what were you going to do after you paid the bikers then?” You wondered.

“I was just gonna… I don’t know… get the hell out of this place. Like leave far away, probably. Get a fresh start,” he answered, which you responded with sympathy. There was another short, comfortable silence before you interrogate him again.

“You caused this much trouble here? ‘Specially with the bikers?”

“Yeah… I don’t know… I just want a second chance in life,” he admitted softly.

You sensed that he was becoming more and more vulnerable. More truthful. You wish you were able to look him in the eye. But instead, you were back to back, on the floor, tied to a stupid chair.

You didn’t know how to feel towards this man. He was robbing the place, but only because he would’ve been killed if he didn’t have the money, and he had no intention of harming anyone. Maybe there was some type of goodness in him.

“Yeah… I understand that,” you reckon. “I believe that people deserve second chances. Especially people like you.”

“‘People like me,’ what do you mean by that?” You heard a bit of defense in his voice.

“No, I meant… You seem to… You seem really unlucky as of recently… In debt with guys who could kill you, gas station robbery gone wrong and now you’re, like… practically kidnapped alongside a stranger,” you elaborate tenderly.

You could hear a warm chuckle before he says, “Well… being stuck with you isn’t really what I’d consider unlucky.” He was smiling, looking at the white tiles of the floor. “If anything, you’re just keeping any possible insanity at bay. You’re… You’re actually very kind, which is making this… ‘experience’ less shitty than it was intended to be.”

You smile to yourself, not sure if you were feeling a bit flustered as a reaction. You were glad to know he appreciated you. “Well, yeah… I can’t imagine being alone in this situation. I think I would’ve been more disoriented without you,” you add.

He hums in agreement. “Well… we’re not alone. We have each other, and we can figure out a way to get out of this alive,” he says comfortingly. “I’m sorry that if anyone were to be restrained to you, it ended up being a lousy gas station robber, but—”

“No, it’s…” you laugh under your breath. “It’s okay. And… you’re more than that. You even said it yourself. I really hope you get your fresh start after this, Billy.”

You were a comfort to him. You were understanding and patient and kind. You even made him forget he had major anger issues. “Me too…” he says quietly.

Time passed fairly smoothly as you two had continued to laugh and converse, learning more and more about each other. Each smile and laugh you two expressed made each of your hearts flutter in such an unsuspected way. And soon enough, none of you ever brought up or reacted to the fact that, for a while now, your pinky fingers were linked together in one hand.

[boydepartment]

hiiiii i would love to request a texts + scenarios where reader is dealing with things whether it be stress or sadness and tends to shy away from opening up so they won’t answer their texts for a while or try not to seem sad through texts but enha bf knows so they come over and maybe it ends from a text from reader thanking them for being there and yeah just more comfort 😭😭

1-800-143 - enhypen comfort texts + scenarios

a/n: hiii i hope you’re doing okay :( i did something similar here HOWEVER it’s really old and outdated so i made you a new one 🫶 i hope you like it

warnings- talk about insecurities, stress, food struggle mention, etc. nothing insanely graphic or triggering though

MASTERLIST

jungwon-

you looked up from your phone to see jungwon walking towards you. it was embarrassing enough to sit there in a hot apartment in a hoodie. the other members had their respective partners over for a game night and you felt insecure.

“y/nnnnn!!!” jungwon grabbed your hands and made you stand. you followed him into his room and watched as he closed the door behind you.

“are you feeling okay?” he put his hand on your head, “you feel warm baby let me get you a t shir-“

“no thank you…. i like my hoodie and your shirts are kinda thin.” you mumbled and sat down, “i don’t want to show any part of my body right now…” you mumbled thinking jungwon didn’t hear you. but he did. he sat next to you and grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it.

“it’s okay if you feel insecure right now, if you want to keep the hoodie on i will turn the air up. i’d never make you go out of your comfort zone. just know i love you and i think you’re the most attractive person ever.” he brushed some hair out of your face and smiled. you leaned into him and tried not to cry.

“i love you a lot jungwon…”

“i love you too y/n…”

heeseung-

heeseung burst in the room, “I MADE PIZZA Y/N! PLEASE DO NOT BE NAKED!” when he noted his surroundings he saw you in bed on your phone. heeseung frowned.

“didn’t you get my texts?”

you looked up, hair messy and blanket covering most of you, “no…?” your eyes were puffy and heeseungs heart broke a bit. he took off the apron and got under the covers with you.

“what’s up?” he spoke softly, grabbing your phone and setting it down.

“i don’t know… i’m just struggling a bit today…” you felt your eyes weld up with tears again and heeseung pulled you closer to him.

“i get it trust me…” he mumbled, “do you think you can eat?”

you shrugged, “i can try…”

heeseung nodded and scooped you up, “i’ll carry you.”

you nodded and leaned into him, your body was exhausted and drained for no reason and you felt awful heeseung had to take care of you like this. he set you down at the table and slid your plate over to you.

“i hope you like it… i worked hard on it…”

you looked up at heeseung to see him nervously eyeing the food, it was cute that he tried really hard to make you a nice dinner. the scene made you smile for the first time in a week.

jay-

jay stopped off at every store you liked to pick you up different snacks and easy meals. he got used to your episodes like this really quickly, they didn’t happen often but he took note everytime they did so he could be prepared. jay follows almost a step by step in his head. when he knocked he went to walk away knowing you need space but to his surprise you hugged him. you hugged him so tightly. it took jay a bit to process you hugging him.

“are you okay?”

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry i don’t deserve you.” your hands held onto him tightly.

jay held you so softly, and got you both back inside. he held you until you calmed down.

“i love you a lot. and you do deserve me, just because life gets tough sometimes that doesn’t mean i’m going anywhere okay?”

jake-

jake is not an idiot. he knew you were bad at texting when you had episodes. so he was going to take matters into his own hands, and about 30 minutes later he was knocking at your door. you answered, rightfully pissed. but there jake was standing with a smile on his face shoving the lego box in your face.

“hi baby! look!”

you deadpanned at him, “do you not check your phone?”

“um not when my baby needs me.” he picked up the takeout he must’ve picked on the way here. he got past you and sat down at the kitchen table. it was really hard to stay angry at the world when jake sim was practically bouncing in his chair about this lego set.

“i got your favorite takeout and i’ll let you have the iron man lego figure.” jake looked up at you, he did not miss the way your lips slowly curve in a smile.

sunghoon-

sunghoon as he said was still new at being a boyfriend and so this raised all the red flags. you were acting different and to be honest on his way over to your house, his hands were sweating BADLY. he took a deep breath and rang your doorbell, you answered quickly and let him in.

“sooooo um……. y/n are you okay….?” sunghoon asked quietly.

no one had asked if you had been okay in a bit and so that question made you break down immediately.

“baby…” sunghoon walked over to you and pulled you in his arms. he rubbed your back softly.

“just let it out okay? i’m here i’m right here.”

you nodded and tried to breathe properly again, “i’m sorry for trying to push you away.”

“it’s okay baby i’m here anyways….”

you looked up at him, “if this was a boyfriend test you would’ve passed.”

sunoo-

you were sleeping after a really rough day. you had cried yourself asleep and had a headache prior to that. you had fallen asleep also watching the awards show.

“Y/N?!”

you jumped up at the sound of your boyfriends voice now in your apartment.

“huh?!”

sunoo ran over to you on the couch, “i thought you were like dead or something! baby you weren’t answering.” he frowned and looked at you all bundled up. you blinked slowly looking at him.

“i’m sorry i just had a rough day and fell asleep…” you mumbled, spaced out.

“oh.” sunoo frowned again and sat down next to you, “do you want water? or anything?” he held you closer to him.

“can you just hold me for a bit?” you asked quietly.

sunoo nodded and kissed your head, “anything for you.”

riki-

you were already in a sour mood towards people, it wasn’t anything anyone specific did it was just how you felt at this moment. obviously you felt bad after snapping at riki but you just waited until he showed up to apologize to him.

he arrived really quickly and set bags on your counter, “i know when you get into moods like this you don’t want takeout. so i picked up groceries and tea.” he looked at you, “do you want to talk about it? or are you going to sit there quietly while i do the work? it’s okay if it’s the second option i don’t mind.”

and it was true, riki didn’t mind taking care of you at all. in fact he liked that he was able to.

you studied his face and suddenly felt REALLY bad.

“i-i’m- i’m sorry for snapping at you…. i didn’t mean to and i know you- you really try to take care of me and i’m sorry.” you looked down and heard riki sigh before he pulled you softly in front of him and hugged you from behind.

“i know you didn’t mean to. and i know it’s really hard sometimes to do basic human things. i get it okay? just please talk to me about this stuff…”

you flipped around and hugged him properly, “thank you…”

[flemingsfreckles]

Replacement Part 2

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Other chapter HERE!

Warnings: none, language, it’s a tiny bit angsty I guess

WC: 2.7k

A/N: I’ve been struggling to write this to say the least… I’ve got certain scenes written, I’m just struggling with making those scenes come together in a fluid way 🤷‍♀️ hopefully things ease up and I’ll be able to get this series rolling

You spent the next day ignoring Jessie’s texts, thankfully not having practice today meant you could avoid Janine’s questions as to why you were being so stand offish to Jessie as well.

However when you did walk into the locker room the following day, there was Janine. You greet her with a smile and a wave and she returns with a cold glance and a whisper of a hello.

“What’s up with you today?” She’s sitting down in her cubby just a few over from yours.

“Why didn't you text back Jessie?” Her voice is hushed despite the locker room being nearly empty. You knew it was coming, you knew Janine would ask.

“I- '' You start to think, you couldn't sit here and tell Janine it's because you wanted nothing to do with her Canadian teammate. You wanted her to go back to London, back to where she wasn't a threat to your playing time, you wanted her anywhere else. Instead you play dumb. “I just, I opened the text late at night, I didn’t want to wake her if she was already asleep, and I guess I forgot to respond in the morning. That's my bad.”

She gives you a questioning look. “Alright, but maybe text her back, I really think you two would get along, I mean you'll meet her today so, forget it whatever.” You give her a nod and find your way over to your locker, noticing the locker next to yours, where Weaver used to be set up, is now empty, Morgan’s name plate is now sitting two lockers away. You ignore it and sit down, starting to change into your practice kit. You change your socks, shorts, and shirt before you make your way around and down the hallway to where all the boots were stored, you grab yours out and turn to head back to your cubby. You hear increased chatter coming from the locker room and when you walk in you see why.

Sinc is standing in the middle of the room holding the shoulders of a shorter player in front of her. You realize Jessie must have arrived given the line of teammates standing in front of her to greet her. You turn your focus back to walking toward your cubby, you sit down and begin unlacing your boots, occupying yourself with them instead of the excitement revolving around the new girl, you’d meet her eventually.

It takes two tries for you to tie your boots comfortably, accidentally pulling way too hard on the laces the first attempt, cutting off the blood circulation to your feet temporarily. As you begin to retie them you see a pair of feet come to stand next to you, facing the empty locker. You feel a bag get set down, you already knew what was happening.

“Hi.” you look up to see Jessie smiling down at you, she's got a hand extended out to you.

You take a second to look at her. You had never met her in person, you’d seen her play before but never been this close to her. She’s smaller than you thought she would be, you knew she wasn’t tall but you now realize that if you stand up her eyes would probably line up with your mouth. She’s got a hat on, her hair is down resting at a length just above her shoulders. The brown of her eyes is lighter than the brown of her hair and her face is covered in freckles. You look down to her big smile, looking at her lips for a moment before snapping out of your thoughts realizing you’ve been sizing up the girl for a little too long.

You reach out your hand, taking hers giving it a shake before you return your focus back to your shoes.

“Hey. Guess this is your cubby now?”

“Uh yeah, I guess they reorganized it for numerical order or whatever, I feel bad they had to shift everyone, I really didn't mind being at the end, it would've been fine. I didn't want to come in here and disturb the system, but the equipment team insisted. I guess it's easier for them, I don't know.” She rambles at you. “Sorry, I don't know why I’m telling you all this.”

You go back to fixing your shoes as Jessie gets ready for practice, you couldn't help but be annoyed by all of your fellow teammates making their way over to Jesies locker, standing conveniently in front of you to talk to her. You listened to them all say how they are looking forward to getting to know her, how they were excited for her to be joining the team, how they were excited for her to be bringing in talent into the midfield, unintentionally insulting you.

As the next few weeks of preseason training went by you could feel your playing time slipping through your fingers. All of those minutes falling into the lap of Jessie.

She was perfect and that pissed you off. You watched her everyday at practice. She was everything you were and also everything you weren’t. She was more tactful than you, she knew more about other players than you, she was faster than you, she rarely made a bad pass, hardly ever missed a pass coming to her, she made clean touches, she was an ideal midfielder.

On top of being a damn good player she was too nice. She was nice to everyone, all the time. It drove you crazy. She was especially nice to you. She would chat with you while you dressed for training, you thought maybe she’d get the hint when you only gave her one to two worded answers and never really initiated a conversation but she didn’t. She’d offer small words of encouragement during practice as well as helping explain what a coach was trying to get across to you, she’d answer questions in meetings and it seemed she always had the right answer.

During her second week, she walked in with Janine, two coffees in her hand before she made her way over to you. She extended her arm and before you could ask her what she was doing she explained for you. “Janine and I stopped for coffee, I figured we’d get you one too, Janine said it was one of your favorite places.”

“Oh, thanks.” You found the interaction a little weird but it was probably Janine’s idea anyway to get you the coffee. You look across the locker room and catch Janine’s eye before raising the cup and shouting her a thanks. You forgot about the surprise coffee incident until a few days later when Jessie brought you a muffin.

She once again stopped in front of where you sat, hand outstretched in your direction with a muffin in her hand. You recognized the muffin, lemon with a blueberry glaze on it. “Uh, Janine mentioned how much you like these when she and I were at the coffee shop a few weeks ago, she said they’re always out and it’s hard to find them, they had them this morning, I remembered so I got it for you.”

You looked from her to the muffin in her hand. The genuineness of her offer was frustrating you, she truly was just being a kind person, but to you it felt manipulative. Like she was trying to somehow get under your skin, into your brain, she brought you treats and coffees, somehow it would lead to your downfall. That’s what ran through your head every time she walked in with something for you.

“What do I owe you?” You reach for your wallet.

“Oh, no, nothing, it’s just a gift.” She shakes the muffin at you, you finally take it from her and she sits down into her cubby next to yours.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” You place the snack into your cubby for safe keeping, you were definitely going to eat that after practice.

“I just wanted to.” She responds with a smile before changing into her practice gear.

The small gifts didn’t stop. She’d bring you coffee or a snack every once in a while which you politely would accept but you couldn’t fathom why she kept doing it. You couldn’t lie, the more it happened the more genuine your thank yous became, it made you feel a little fuzzy inside when she’d hand it to you and your fingers would brush against each other. As if the two of you could maybe be friends at some point. But then you’d go on the field and that feeling would be gone as she would outperform you again and again. You’d see the coffee cup upon returning to the locker room and suddenly have the urge to throw it out, to not let Jessie continue to think you were friends, you weren’t, she was competition. The cycle of hating her, to being a civil acquaintance for just a little bit before training and then back to hating her on the field continued day in and day out, week after week.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when the first game came around and you found yourself as a substitute. You tried to keep your emotions at bay as Jessie’s name was listed in the position yours typically was. You clenched and unclenched your jaw, trying to ignore the frustration bubbling up. When you walk to your cubby Jessie is already there, getting dressed.

“Hello.” She smiles at you as she changes her shirt. Her tone happy, upbeat, of course she was happy, she was starting.

“Hey.” Your tone was the opposite, monotone, dull, no sense of excitement.

“Are you excited for the game?” Jessie continued on. You just shrug in her direction before putting in headphones and sitting down to put on your socks. “A woman of many words.” Jessie is still smiling at you when you look up at her. “Come on, be excited, it’s the start of the season!” She gently shakes your shoulder before turning away to go talk with Janine. You look across the room and catch Sam’s eye, she raises an eyebrow in your direction and you see her stand up quickly looking down at the ground.

Sam finds her way to your cubby. “What’s up with you?”

“Huh?” You pull a headphone from your ear and look up at her.

“You’re moping, you’re quiet, it’s so obvious you’re not yourself and you haven’t been.” She’s standing one hand on her hip looking down at you. She must’ve noticed the way you looked around the room to all your teammates standing within earshot. “Alright equipment office, let’s go.” She points a finger in the direction of the always empty office.

You follow her in and quickly hop on the desk, grabbing the pen that’s sat on it to begin fidgeting with it.

“Talk to me.” Sam crosses her arms leaning against the door.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, lying straight through your teeth. “Just in a mood, woke up on the wrong side of the bed I guess.”

“Okay, bullshit. I’m not stupid. You’ve been waking up on the wrong side of the bed all pre-season, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you’re lying. Are you unhappy here? Did something happen in your life? Because you’ve been weird for weeks and I’ve tried, Janine has tried, but you just shrug everyone off, so what gives?”

“Janine’s too busy with her now, I’m surprised she noticed.” You mumble it and you really don’t mean for Sam to hear it but she does. It was true though, you found yourself spending less and less time with Janine. Despite what she had promised you in the car before Jessie’s arrival, you felt replaced. You’d invite her out for a walk, she’d already be with Jessie, she’d invite you to dinner before conveniently mentioning Jessie would be there too. You felt like not only had Jessie come in and taken your spot on the team, she had taken over your spot in Janine’s life.

“Is that what this is all about? Her? Jessie?” Sam makes her way over to you.

You shake your head, it was, but it also wasn’t. It was more about the fact that you were being replaced, not just used as a sub. “I don’t know Sam.”

“I think you do, you just don’t want to say it.”

You throw your hands up toward the door. “It’s so obvious she’s here to replace me.”

“She’s not.” Sam tries to wrap an arm around your shoulder but you stand up before she can. You didn’t need her sympathy or whatever she was trying to do here. You were frustrated, annoyed, she wasn’t helping.

“Don’t lie.”

“I'm not!” Sam tries to explain to you but you don’t want to hear it.

“Hard to argue when she’s starting instead of me today.” Fed up with everyone, you push past Sam back into the locker room, not saying anything to anyone you throw on your warm up shirt and head out to the pitch early just to escape.

The game is relatively uneventful for the first half. You want nothing to do with watching Jessie play but it seems to be all you can do. Your eyes are constantly on her, as if none of your other teammates or the opponents exist. You watch how she effortlessly can make space for herself, how she can make accurate passes barely having to look at the other players, everything she does is clean. She makes an assist just before the half you cheer for a moment, happy to take the lead before a sinking feeling builds in your stomach.

The second half starts with you kicking your feet together as you sat on the bench still. It isn't until 30 minutes remaining that you get told to start warming up and it’s not until 61 minutes that you are standing next to the referee as Jessie’s number is lit up in red and yours is in green. She gives you a high five as you sub on but you don’t listen to the words she says telling you to do well.

You don’t do much for the remaining 29 minutes only getting a few touches, nothing good but also nothing bad. The game ends with a victory and you start walking around the pitch with your teammates.

Jessie finds her way to your side. “You had some nice passes.”

You look at her, feeling as if her comment is almost backhanded. It wasn’t backhanded, Jessie was genuinely complimenting your playing, she meant nothing negative by the comment, you did have some good passes. You just look at her, no smile, no words, nothing.

“You alright?” Jessie presses.

“Look, Jessie, I’m really not interested in talking to you right now.”

You can’t miss the look of confusion, hurt, and sadness across her face. “Oh, okay, I’m sorry.” She stops walking, letting you walk off ahead of her, you continue to walk alone around, signing a few things, taking a few photos but then making your way into the locker room.

You get undressed and shower quickly before coming back to your locker when Jessie walks up. The tension is obvious between the two, she didn’t greet you like normal, she barely acknowledges your existence. You look up to her. She still has a sad expression on her face, she refuses to make eye contact with you as she grabs her stuff and walks away. You notice Janine’s cold stare when she walks past you as you’re headed out of the room your backpack already packed and on your back.

“That was a dick move. She’s just trying to be your friend.”She mutters to you as you pass her. For a second you think about turning around, telling Janine how despite her promise to you that your friendship wouldn’t change, it had, how she had abandoned you the second Jessie showed up. You debate telling her you want nothing to do with Jessie, that you hate her but she’s too damn nice that you can’t outright shoot her down. But you don’t, you keep it in and continue to walk down the hallway. You open up the door to a rainy evening, leaving your head down you pull your hood up and make your way to your car.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

IX. I'm the well they're gonna drag you down.

parts: previously / next plot: and they were rooommates. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, mentions of blood and stitches and drugs and alcohol, this chapter is fluffier because reader deserves a break, reader and bruce discussing their one-night stands, bruce thinks he's funny but he just can't hide how much he likes you okay, jealousy thy name is "disturbed". words: 6.9k. a/n: shoutout to allnurses.com contributing to at least 8 hours of research on how medications are stored in hospitals for one scene. any nurses in chat please do not stone me, I took creative liberties. also, in case there is any confusion, this chapter and the vignette take place all in (mostly) the same day.

The car gets about halfway down the street before Bruce observes out loud, "Something's bothering you."

You're clean and changed, but your hands are shoved between your thighs as you try to control their shake. Knowing what you know now, you have no reason to keep this from him. He is, by all means, the one person you should tell.

But you struggle to work up the courage without a mask looking back at you. The character of Batman you'd created in your head clashes violently with the character of Bruce. You'd written your own Jekyll and Hyde and tripped yourself up in the final act when it turned out they were one and the same, "You have a lot on your plate right now."

"So do you."

You resist the urge to grit your teeth, "It's about Judith."

Bruce thinks for a moment, "The old lady who doesn't like me."

"The very same. I... wasn't there for her last night, when I should have been. She was mugged on her way home."

Bruce doesn't make a big show of a reaction, though you notice he sits straighter, taking a break from gazing out of the window to glance at you every once in a while, "Is she badly hurt?"

"It could've been worse but... she's more shaken up than she wants me to believe."

"And her family?"

"Murdered." Bruce's car rolls by a street corner where a young mother wrangles her child back from the crosswalk, "I tried to convince her to have one of the deacons from church ride home with her from now on but she wouldn't listen. She doesn't want to be babied." Her stubbornness isn't at all unfamiliar.

"Did she see who did it?"

"She said some guys at the liquor store down the way. They hang out there every night," your eyes trail from the window down to the floor before finding Bruce's face. His profile is sharp and clean, the dark neck of his sweater stops just before the hair at his nape begins to cluster. Your eyes follow the bridge of his nose and it mirrors Batman's profile, a mix of pointed and blunt edges, "There's a... an heirloom in her purse. A lighter. She keeps it with her all the time. Her husband had it on him when he... well, he had an awful habit. She'd really like it back."

Bruce turns his head to you and you steel yourself. In the bright early morning, he is annoyingly resplendent. In the unfair way that all pretty people tended to be. It feels wrong to be asking him this. This is a stranger. You're begging for help from a stranger. You force down the sickness rising in your belly, "Please, will you-"

"I'll take care of it." He answers and it is final. He seemed to have made up his mind before you'd even asked.

The resolve in him is enough to slow your shake to nothing. There's a part of you that still doesn't quite believe what you'd seen last night, and so the certainty of Judith's well-being does not deluge you. It trickles down, dripping over your eyelashes, sprinkling off your fingertips.

You let yourself get caught up in his eyes the way you used to. You let the familiarity of them ground you and, though not with a sweeping acceptance, sigh in relief.

It's a small win in the grand scheme of steaming hot bullshit going on in your life.

You’ve taken things from General for Bruce’s sake before. Bandages and needles and disinfectants. This, however… this was a schedule II drug that could land you in prison if you got caught with it. And you were going to walk out of here with it like you were none the wiser.

A hand on your elbow forces you to slow down, drawing you back to your companion’s side. You don’t need to hear it so he doesn’t say it, but you’re embarrassed anyway. How Bruce maintains himself is enviable. “You’re a good actor.” Bruce peeks at you as you guide him through the first floor, “The thing with Gordon. You took it on the chin like a champ. You turned into a whole new person.”

“I avoid implicating myself when I can.”

“The party too. You diffused the tension, like, perfectly.”

Bruce hovers beside you as you call the elevator, a few patients and nurses lingering further behind. You can feel him probing your words for your natural line of thinking, “Couldn’t pull one over on you, though.”

No, you think, you just creeped me out while every bat-shaped clue flew right under my nose.

The elevator door slides open and the two of you squeeze into the back as the rest file in. You find yourself in a corner, braced against Bruce’s side as his hand reaches around your back to hold the railing. One of the nurses catches sight of him and swoons, the other trying (and failing) to look uninterested.

“Coming to see the new wing?” The swooning nurse asks, turning around to grin at Bruce. “Sounds like it’s coming along great. They make lots of helpful noise all day long.”

Bruce laughs good-naturedly, “Hopefully it’ll make up for all the trouble once it’s finished.”

The “uninterested” nurse nods, eyes frantically flashing from Bruce’s eyes to the floor and back over and over, “For sure! It’s really great you give back to General like this. Your dad would be proud.”

His face has no distinct reaction to it, nothing immediately telling that that comment hit too close to home. He smiles as he always does and thanks them as he always should do, and as they get off on the second floor, it’s just you two and an old man waiting for the next stop.

Bruce, to you, had long lived in his father’s shadow. The great Thomas Wayne who, despite his briefly smeared reputation, had been the face of the Wayne family for you. Even the some-twenty years after his passing had yet to shake that image from your brain.

It was his father’s legacy he was tending to here. All of the good and ugly that came with it. You couldn’t imagine how many times he’d heard his father would be proud. Did it comfort him? Frustrate him? Did he do this to make his father proud, or because it was expected of him?

Before the flood, you’d heard gossip about Wayne Enterprises going under, the reclusive in the tower giving no sign if he was alive or dead. Knowing what you know now, you wonder how much he truly wants to be a Wayne… with all the baggage that comes with it.

He’s wound tight. You can feel him against you.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you find his hand on the railing beside you and cover It with your own. He’s shocked, judging by the way he jolts under your touch for a second. You think you’ve overstepped but when you go to apologize, he is already staring wide-eyed at you. Like when you’d caught him on the stairs.

The tension is still there, and his face has fallen in its warmth and friendliness. His hand had only partially slipped out from underneath yours, but as the seconds pass you feel it rest once more, not bothering to shake you away any further.

You both force yourselves to stare ahead until the elevator dings to let you out, but through the reflection on the door, Bruce is still looking at you.

You break first, distracting you both this time as you walk out, “You kept hitting me with your knee.”

Bruce, in a daze, asks, “What?”

“At the party. While me and Roberts were arguing, you’d nudge me with your knee like it was an accident.”

Bruce seems to remember who he is and where you are, because he quickly gets back to himself, “Guess I’m not that good of an actor.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I knew where the conversation was going. I could feel you thinking.”

You remembered holding your breath as the mayor prepared herself for confrontation back then, “And the second time?”

“I was trying not to laugh.”

You flush. You’d been so impassioned that night, defending your hero who, unbeknownst to you at the time, was hiding a snicker behind his glass. You feared you’d be remembering a lot of moments like that over the next few days.

As soon as you both get into your office, you shut the door behind you, “I need you to wait here for me.” Bruce’s face tightens, “Don’t… argue. They keep extra vials of the antivenom down in the ER. I can grab one from the med room, but I can’t have you following me down there. It’s off limits for anyone without ID, let alone a patient and a donor.”

Bruce doesn’t look comfortable. Since last night, you hadn’t been anywhere Bruce or your police detail couldn’t follow. You hadn’t even been allowed to enter your apartment until the latter had deemed the place safe. A med room not much bigger than your office—locked behind an ID scanner—posed less of a threat than your two-bedroom ten minutes away.

But it was two stories down, and anything could happen in the time you were away from Bruce.

You can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to think up some plan that allowed him to remain by your side. You have to restrain yourself from feeling… flattered.

Flattery turns to bewilderment as Bruce reaches into his pocket and drops something into your hand. It’s a gadget the size of an AirPods case, shining in the light of the fluorescents. It looked perfectly unassuming and hid—lightweight as it was—a marvel of expensive technology. You could tell just by looking at it. “The hell is this?”

“It’s an EMP generator. Put it in your pocket and I can disable any communications within your vicinity, including cameras.”

“Okay, no. This is a hospital, and I’d be going into the ER with this thing. That’s too dangerous.”

Bruce looks offended. You can practically hear him say “You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” with his eyes. He silently holds his phone up to your face and you shouldn’t be as shocked as you are that it’s got live camera feed of the entire hospital. “I can control the radius. You said you trust me. So trust me.”

You swallow back your retort. You did say you were going to trust him on this. Whether or not it would be your doom had yet to be seen. You nod once, dropping the device in your pocket. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.”

Bruce’s lips purse together. He still doesn’t look settled with letting you go alone, but he has very little room to argue, “Ten minutes.”

You don’t waste time. You skip the elevator for the emergency stairwell, taking two steps at a time until you’re back on the first floor and walking to the ER. The med room at the very end of the hall would—if you were lucky—be as empty as the waiting room. All you needed to do was get in, grab what you needed and very quickly get the hell out of there. Without raising suspicion. You can feel the phantom pull of Bruce’s hand on your arm, begging you to slow down before you draw unwanted attention.

You round the corner to the med room, scan your ID, and head in.

The two nurses waiting inside greet you, analyzing you curiously, “Hey doc, need something?”

Words rattle in your brain like a d20 on a deception roll. You pray for something good, “I just wanted to grab some meds for my patient.”

One nurse sits at a computer, head titled in confusion, “Did you put in a prescription? You could’ve sent a nurse to grab it for you.”

Your eye catches the camera on the ceiling, its dark glass glinting at you, mocking you. A scrying glass recording your every move. And Bruce on the other side of it, hopefully buying you an alibi. “It’s a… special case. My patient needs it soon, so I thought I’d speed up the process and grab it myself.” You force a lightness into your tone, trying your best to appear apologetic and not at all suspicious.

The nurse hums. Then, she jabs the pen she’d holding over her shoulder, “Cart’s over there. Help yourself.”

You maneuver through the shelves separating either half of the room, keeping your head straight and eyes from wandering.

Your biggest hurdle was at the back of the room.

It’s a clunky cabinet on wheels with a monitor on top and an ID scanner on the side. In one of its many drawers, your golden ticket awaited, but these things kept logs of who checked out what, and if someone were to go through them later and find out you’d stolen a highly addictive drug without prescription…

You swallow. The generator in your pocket suddenly hangs heavy against your thigh. You glance at your phone for the time and note that four minutes have passed. You need to move quickly.

You approach the cart, fingers twitching at your sides, and right as you step up to the monitor, it flickers and goes dark. You give the power button a push for good measure but nothing happens.

Well, not nothing. You hear the cart drawers all click at once, like they’d unlocked by themselves. Tentatively, you try the top drawer and it slides out without issue. Glancing behind you, you check to make sure no nurses have wandered over, but you are the only one on this side of the room.

Your fingers drift down to the right drawer next and that one slips open too—by the grace of some god—and there you see it. It has an alien glow to it, a more subdued blue to its adversary’s green. The top of the tray holding the vials pops open with just as much ease as the drawer, allowing you to sneak one into your pocket. You shut the drawers, slowly backing away from the cart, but the monitor does not turn back on.

“What? This thing too?” You’re startled when the nurse from before suddenly jogs up from behind you, grumbling under her breath as she smacks the monitor.

You rush to cover, “It just went kaput on me.”

“Yeah, so did mine.” She maneuvers around the shelves and back to her desk where you see the other nurse at the desk scratching his head. Their monitor is glitching, having some gory digital stroke, “Here. You can sign out what you take for now and I’ll bother IT about this.”

You write down “Ibuprofen” and your name next to it, “Never seen that happen before.”

“Yeah. Thing froze up on me a minute ago. Guessing around the same time this thing died on you.”

Your stomach is still nervously fluttering, but you do feel a little smug. “Weird.” You hand her back the clipboard and go to grab a bottle out of a different drawer. “Good luck.”

You try not to sprint past the nurses as they fuss with the computer. You’re out and back upstairs before your ten minutes are up.

Bruce is sat leisurely on your couch, no doubt watching you scurry into the office on his phone. He looks from the pill bottle in your hand and back to you.

You toss the bottle into his lap, plopping down on the couch beside him. He frowns at the label. “For you,” you poke his injured leg and his eyes follow your every movement, “you’re favoring the other leg today.”

He can’t bring himself to deny that, even if the look he gives you from beneath his eyelashes says otherwise. You flash the antivenom at him as a peace offering. “How’d I look?”

His gaze flutters slowly from the vial to you before he shows you his phone. The screen is a recording of the medication room. It shows you greeting the nurses, walking up to the med cart, and then… nothing. Black screen for forty-five seconds. When it flickers back on, you're signing the clipboard and walking away. Your body sags into the couch with relief.

“You did good.” Bruce praises you.

“I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest.”

“There are worse places to do it.” You look at him and he’s smiling just a little. You’re aware, though, that he’s aware of the toll this has taken on you. He takes the vial out of your hands and puts it in his own pocket, holding his hand out to you. “We should get going.”

Bruce follows dutifully behind you as you lead him back down to the first floor. You feel much better than when you'd arrived, but your heart stutters each time a security guard passes you by. Years ago, stealing and getting away with it was second nature to you. You were also arrogant back then, uncaring of what happened to you. How quickly the tides had changed.

You feel Bruce nudge you with his arm. He isn't looking at you, but you know what he's trying to tell you: you've got a few more hallways to turn down before the exit. You just have to-

Someone calls your name.

You spin around, nerves electrified, only to find Em running to catch up with you, "What are you doing back at work already? Is your arm okay?"

The adrenaline rush had done wonders for your pain tolerance. You didn't even think about it until she brought it up, "I'm fine, it's fine. It's-" You go to rush out some sort of explanation but at that moment, Bruce turns around.

You can see the moment of impact across Em's face as soon as she realizes who you're with, her back straightening and hand pressing down flyaways. In an instant, she has forgotten all about you. For better or for worse. She rubs her palm on her leg before holding it out to shake his hand, "Mr. Wayne! Hi! I'm surprised to see you here." Her eyes are twinkling, "Everything alright?"

"Just some leg pain, nothing painkiller can't fix." He flashes the pill bottle for good measure. You're honestly impressed he admitted to being in pain at all, "It's good to see you again, Dr. Madison."

Em's face droops into a frown, "Well, you look fantastic, but you've got a mirror," she pats your arm, "and I'm sure you're being well taken care of."

"Only by the best."

You smile (borderline pleadingly), preparing to dismiss yourselves while you still have your wits about you, but then Em asks Bruce a question and, to your surprise, Bruce is happy to entertain her.

It strikes you that you had landed in your situation with no prior interest in who Bruce was, and it shows in how you barely keep up with the topic of conversation.

It's like watching a tennis match between the two. The topic in Em's court, then Bruce's, then Em's, back and forth without issue. No awkward pauses or uncomfortable looks. She recalls details about him out of thin air, your knowledge in comparison merely fringes of what Em knew.

The longer it goes on, the more it weighs on you that aside from the strange man who'd circled around you like a frightened kitten, you really didn't know anything about Bruce.

You knew Batman. You felt you knew him. Even when his identity was still a secret, you had felt comfortable with him. Vulnerable, even. He'd let you touch him in your home, fixing him up and helping you with this mess and... outside of that, what did you really know?

You feel an odd twist in your chest.

Em's voice floats back in, disrupting your retrospection, "I've always wanted to go to Italy. You must get so sick of these places after having been so many times."

"They still have their magic," Bruce grins, "but I don't like being far from home."

"Really? You could go anywhere in the world and you'd still miss Gotham?" Em's tone is teasing, but curious. Something flickers in her eyes as if she'd just remembered something.

Bruce takes in the hallway, chest swelling with pride, "Lots of things to miss about it."

"Name one."

Bruce's eyes cut to the side as he thinks, "The noise."

"You can get noise anywhere. LA, Chicago-"

"It's special here."

"No, try again."

His smile turns sheepish, "The rain."

"Now you're lying. Come on, pretty boy. I know you've got something. Penthouse, nightlife- heck, I'd even understand the freaks and clowns giving everyone PTSD."

Bruce exhales, purses his lips. His eyes flit around the white walls, "Okay. I'd miss you."

What the hell?

You straighten up. The absurdity (blatant sweet-talk) of the line shouldn't work—seriously, it wouldn't work on you—but Em goes pink in the cheeks. A strand of dark hair falls from her bun and frames her smile just so, "Well," she snorts, "aren't you just a flirt?"

To your utter dismay, they are both eating this up. "You light up the room, Dr. Madison. Your patients are very lucky."

"My patients are usually seven and way more interested in the candy I bring them."

"Candy?" Bruce finally looks at you, all humor and charm, "I never get candy. I just get yelled at."

Something in you is disturbed when Em grabs onto Bruce's arm, hanging off him as she pouts at you, "Oh! You're heartless!"

"Very much so." Bruce is somber.

"I don't-" Your voice comes out strained, a little too defensive right off the bat, "I don't yell." But you'd gotten close, and you got closer everyday, "But if I did, you'd deserve it."

Bruce is amused. You watch as he pretends to cower into Em, even as he dwarfs her in size. They start joking back and forth, more teases at your expense, and you notice that the persona he puts on around others is practically nonexistent here. You'd watched it dissolve within minutes. It's refreshing, you realize, that he seems to really be enjoying himself right now.

You catch Bruce insisting that he ought to get going, sharing pleasantries and desires to visit once more. Em looks genuinely saddened to let him go. The second Bruce's back turns, Em reaches out and squeezes your hand, whispering, "Please tell me he's single."

You fluster. You imagine yourself in the car ride back to the tower asking Bruce what he thinks about Em, offering to exchange numbers between them, and you're disturbed again.

Twenty-four hours ago, you would've been warning her to run for the hills. Twenty-four hours ago, he was only Bruce Wayne. Now he was Batman and all that came with it and, well... once upon a time, you would've wanted nothing more than for Bruce Wayne to sweep Em off her feet. Batman had always been more your style.

Then, you realize, you don't actually know the answer to her question.

Em looks expectant. You shrug. She exaggerates her disappointment but releases you all the same, "Keep me posted."

"I'm comparing the samples from the crime scene to the antivenom. I should have something in a few hours." Bruce taps the antivenom vial, watching the remaining blue liquid slosh against the glass, before handing it off to Alfred.

You're mesmerized by this backyard (or, more aptly put, garage) chemistry lab. Beakers and flasks spread out on the long table as you watch from a stool a few feet away, "How'd you get so good at this?"

"College," after a few seconds of silence from you, he adds on begrudgingly, "I started messing around with stuff down here when I was 13."

"You had all this when you were 13?"

"Some of it, whatever I could get my hands on. I liked to see how things worked."

You have a unique opportunity to learn about Bruce here, so you take it with both hands, "You majored in chem, then."

"And biology, and physics."

Your eyes blow wide. "You had three majors?"

"I bounced from one to another, sometimes double majored if I liked the professors. I followed my interests and they took me everywhere," Bruce picks up the venom test tube, little drops of green pooling at the bottom of the glass, "I've enrolled in more universities than I have degrees."

Your eye twitches, just a little annoyed, "Must've been nice going wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted."

Bruce senses your tone of voice. He peers at you from the side, elbows resting on the table, "I spent a lot of time away from home. It must've been enough because I don't miss it."

"You said the same thing to Em earlier." You recall.

"I didn't think about it as much while I was gone, but when I came home for good... I just couldn't imagine myself leaving like that again."

"He barely liked boarding school," Alfred chimes in from the other side of the room, lazily reading a book at Bruce's desk. Boarding school was posh. You imagined little Bruce in a school uniform like the British boys in movies, "I should bring out the scrapbooks once we have a moment."

Bruce sets the test tube back on its rack with a bit of aggression, "Thank you, Alfred. You can go now."

Alfred chortles. He skims one more page of his book and then shoves it under his arm on the way back up. The elevator clinks and rattles up the tower until it stops some sixty stories up.

It's quiet now. You sort of appreciate the silence- the relative silence. There is the steady drip, drip, drip coming from here and there in the cave. The whirring of the machines, the humming of the lights, the very faint sound of a news anchor forecasting snowy skies this weekend. Bruce's breathing.

It's harder to hear unless you focus on it. His mountainous build hunched over the table—staring into the venom as it stares back—rises and falls in slow rhythm. You watch him being and it captivates you. For the umpteenth time since last night, you are struck with the reminder that this was Batman. In all his broody glory, an arm's length away from you, about a hundred feet under the city.

It's funny; you paid so little attention to the man before, and now you wanted to take him apart and examine his terrible insides. You have accidentally become obsessed with the man.

"I want to take you to Blackgate."

"Sorry?"

"Lucien is there," the name makes your blood run cold, "he was with the Vipers the longest. He could answer a few things for us."

You do your best not to immediately say no. Not because you think he'll force you, but because you know—somehow—that he won't, "What about Detective Gordon? Shouldn't that be his job?"

"I think he'll talk to you." Bruce turns slowly until his back is pressed against the desk, arms crossed over his chest and pulling his shirt completely taut. "He knows you."

You hadn't seen Lucien since the night Alex died. For once, you're kind of grateful Bruce can read you. He turns fully toward you, "I can go alone."

"You just said you think he'll talk to me."

"I can make him talk." His head droops a little to meet your eyes, expression impossibly understanding. You have no doubt he can. Your throat feels like it's on the verge of closing up. Somehow, sending Bruce alone to handle him felt worse.

"But you think I can..." You have to pause to force in a breath, feeling yourself go lightheaded, "You think I can get more out of him." Bruce doesn't respond to that. He's still watching you like you might start stress-sobbing. "Okay."

"You sure?"

"Mm."

Bruce calls your name. You'd been tracing the lines of his arms with your eyes to distract yourself, not processing how much closer he'd gotten until you feel his breath against your eyelashes.

His arms are uncrossed now, one hand pressing into the table beside you, the other hovering by his hip. His fingers twitch. Does he want to touch you? You were about to go three for three with the crying in his arms thing.

You force yourself off the stool and the speed at which you stand gives Bruce very little time to react. Your chest bumps against him, but you're already slipping behind him, "Lemme see your stitches," you rasp, hand ghosting over his shoulder, "need to... redress them, probably."

Bruce tries looking over his shoulder at you but you hide behind him and after a moment, he relents. His shoulders drop in defeat. You watch him drag your stool into the light and sit.

The dismal mood did you a favor. He looked like he'd be submissive today.

You're halfway through clearing away his dried blood when you ask, "Are you single?"

Bruce's shoulder jolts just the tiniest bit, almost driving your finger into the stitch. "What?"

"Em asked," you quickly explain, "and I realized I didn't know."

You don't know exactly what he's thinking, but his answer is as straightforward as you could hope for, "Yes."

"Oh."

"You sound surprised."

"I mean... I sort of assumed..." What did you assume, exactly? You couldn't see him with a long term partner, definitely not like this, but the idea that there wasn't anybody didn't sit right with you, "no flings? Situationships, even?"

"Why? Is Dr. Madison interested?"

Your jaw clenches. You force the muscles in your face to relax, "I just don't want any secret lovers of yours adding me to their shitlist if I go through with your plan. I can't stress how little I want to fake-fight over you right now."

Bruce huffs. You finish cleaning around his wound when he pipes up again, "I had something... someone. It didn't last."

"Oh. Are you... tender about it?"

"Not anymore. I don't have time for that kind of thing anyway."

He says it like it doesn't bother him, but in the way someone might brush off a scrape on the knee or a paper cut. Like it stung, but you had to be a big boy about it. The pain would go away eventually.

You press new gauze over the stitches, taping it down as gently as you could, "I assumed someone like you would have a whole lot of someones, a revolving door even," your eyes flit over his other bruises and healed cuts, "I never made time for relationships either. I was kind of just going through the motions."

"No one interested you?" Bruce rolls his shoulders once you peel away from him. He doesn't look at you when he asks that.

"Just... childish crushes here and there. Sometimes I'd let someone take me home..." Your voice catches in your throat for a moment. You recall a stamped down memory, one of you standing blindfolded in your apartment imagining the Batman with his mouth on your throat. That wasn't very long ago. Your breath shudders as you fit Bruce into the memory instead. You don't... know how to feel about it.

"Never back to yours? And here I thought Judith was just hard on me." You belatedly register Bruce standing, rolling his shirt up his arms before pulling the neck over his hair. His question hangs lightheartedly.

Your shoulders sag, "You're not gonna believe me if I tell you I was paranoid about letting one-night stands into my home."

"Why? 'Cause you let me in?"

The back of your neck grows hot. "What about you? You ever bring yours back to the cave?"

After he's done tucking his shirt into his pants, Bruce shakes his head at you, "No. Just you."

That was the second time he'd said that to you. You were starting to feel special.

You step out of the shower and you think, almost as soon as your foot touches heated floors, that you really despise Bruce Wayne.

The towels are warm too, waiting for you as you preen yourself in the mirror, a clean you staring back. You kept your toiletries bag on the bathroom counter, afraid to unpack anything as you rustled around for deodorant. It was massive and quiet. The water pressure alone had you swearing at the marble lining of the shower.

Bruce eventually lured you downstairs with the promise of making dinner. Alfred was skeptical, but had backed off and allowed Bruce full range of the kitchen, still possessed by his book next to the fire.

He'd asked you what you had the stomach for. Eventually he was copying something out of a celebrity recipe book with you beside him.

You argued that he hadn't really made you dinner given that you had helped him do half of everything, but it was his ingredients and it was his kitchen and the food tasted good so you didn't argue long.

After Alfred offered his stamp of approval, he'd retired for the night and left you and Bruce in the kitchen to clean up. Bruce had left the pots and pans to you when you proved too nervous to handle the porcelain, "Alfred won't kill you if it breaks."

"Alfred would kill me for less, I think."

Bruce gives a short laugh, drying off the last pot. He's pouring you a glass of the wine you'd opened last night when you slide his little gadget across the counter, "I forgot to give that back to you." You swirl your glass, admiring the color as Bruce packs away the leftovers. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself with Em earlier."

"I was. Your friend is funny."

"I... also noticed something you said. When she asked you what you would miss about Gotham, you mentioned the noise and the rain. Would you really miss all that?"

Bruce glances at you, popping a top onto a glass bowl, "Of course. It's part of what makes the city."

Your eyes narrow, searching for the lie, but there isn't one. He's being sincere. "Is that why you became Batman? Because you love this city that much?"

You can feel the mood getting doused with ice water. It forces you upright in your chair, makes your hand clench around the stem of your glass. Anyone with eyes could tell you'd just touched a nerve.

But he answers you, intense as it comes out, "I hated it." The loathing is a mere shell of what it used to be, you can tell, "I hated what it took from me." His eyes cast down to the countertop. "At first, I was aimless. Everyone was worried about the future of the company but Alfred and I were just trying to make it through the day. Over the years, I boiled up with this... restlessness. I still didn’t know where I was going but I was full of something for once. I studied, I traveled, I learned from all manner of teacher. And when I came home, I was... determined."

His words sit heavily on you. You can see flecks of that restlessness in his eyes, the slight tremble of his hands as he rests them against the countertop. "Why a bat?" You whisper.

"They're what I feared the most."

Past tense. "Feared?"

"I got over it. I won't let them close enough to bite, but..." The humor in his voice breaks the intensity of his expression.

You mull that over, "You became what you feared to strike fear."

"Not anymore," his head shakes, "fear is a tool, but... there's enough fear in this city. I wasn't making a change, I was making it worse."

You remembered the first time you'd ever heard of the Batman. Back then, he was just "Vengeance". In the grand scheme of fucked up things this city had to offer, someone running around dressed as a bat didn't register as abnormal. Another Tuesday, maybe. You awaited what they'd say about his crimes: a mugger beaten and strung up on the street, a gang felled and dropped at the GCPD's door. You remembered something stirring in you when he put away the Joker.

"I remember when you became a hero. Like really, to everyone. When you took shape… they were flying in people. I was rushing in patients while you stood on top of the Garden and pulled people out of the flood. I hadn’t felt hope like that since… yeah."

Your admission moves something in Bruce. His eyes find yours, "I was just doing what you'd been doing for years."

"But I never left that hospital. You transcend boroughs, the gangs, everything. I used to think you couldn’t possibly be one guy. I still can’t believe it. How are you not dead on your feet by now?" Bruce smiles knowingly at you and you feel yourself flush, "Besides that. You’ve been doing this for longer than I've been around to patch you up."

"That would be Alfred."

"You should tell him, you know. That you appreciate him. I think he'd like to hear how much he means to you more often." Bruce's eyes soften. He doesn't debate you. "Anyway. How's that sedative going?"

"I'll take another look before I leave tonight."

Oh, yeah. This guy is Batman.

You don't know when next you'll get this chance, "Can I ask a favor? Can I... watch you put it on?" Bruce wobbles to the side, genuinely confused. "The suit?"

He examines you, mouth almost curling up into a shocked smile. He hadn't expected you to ask that, that's for sure. "All of it?"

You grip your glass so hard you think it might shatter, "No." And then, when he has the audacity to snicker, "Asshole."

He stays true to your request.

You watch with your back pressed up against the wall. His under suit hangs undone at his hips while he leans over his desk, digging his fingers into a can of black paint. He uses the reflection of his computer screen to smear it over his eyelids and under his eyelashes until the white skin beneath disappears.

Next is zipping up the under suit. You barely resist rushing over to hold his bandage steady as the suit catches on it, but he manages to get it up and over without pulling it off. Then come the plates of armor. Each piece clips into place, clinging to his waist and chest and arms. You've seen it up close enough times to know the quality of it, a wonder how he'd gotten his hands on that kind of stuff until now.

You don't ask him to, but when it's time to put his cowl on, he turns sideways so you can see.

His gloved hand combs through his hair, pushing back the longer strands so he could fit the cowl over it.

It's kind of embarrassing how it takes your breath away. Bruce had quite literally transformed before your eyes, and now there was no denying it.

Bruce stands still as your eyes bore into him.

After a few seconds of admiring every piece of the suit, your eyes flit up to his face. He's not looking at you, almost shy. Apart from Alfred and, perhaps, his someone, Bruce has probably never put on the suit in front of anyone else. Is it weird you missed seeing him shy? "It fits perfectly." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Of course it does. You know it's dumb to say. Bruce doesn't say that, though.

He waits a beat before turning away from you, his cape sending a breeze of cool air up against your legs. His car awaits on the train tracks, headlights beaming into the near endless darkness as he approaches and you follow.

The car thrums eagerly with life at the push of a button, sending vibrations through the ground, all the way up to the ceiling where you hear a sudden flurry of wings and chirping. Bowing your head close to Bruce, you watch about a hundred bats scurry about above you, disturbed by the sudden rumble of the engine. Bruce holds his cape over your shoulder, though none of the bats fly low enough to concern him. "They don't freak you out a little bit?"

"They haven't bothered me."

"Well, when you dress like them I guess they get confused."

"I'll be back before sunrise," Bruce promises, "and I'll look into Judith for you. Maybe you should... call first."

You're tickled by the discomfort he's so desperately trying to hide, "Scared of a little old lady?"

He pointedly ignores you. You step back as he throws open the door and settles into his car, but before he can pull off into the darkness, you shout his name to get his attention over the roaring engine, "Hey! Be safe."

Bruce looks at you and... you don't know what he's thinking, only that the muscles in his jaw relax a bit. Was he used to that? Did Alfred often stand on the cold, empty train tracks before every patrol and wish him luck on another night of beating criminals to a pulp? Was he used to the worrying? Annoyed by it, even?

He doesn't say anything. The car leaves in a spray of dust and you hide your face in your shirt to shield yourself from it. By the time the dust settles, you can only see two red lights blurring into the distance.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Do you have any advice for writing with adhd? I can craft these elaborate storyline in my head, but the minute I try to write any of them down I get bored. (Or is that just regular writer block?) It's really discouraging, because I feel like my mind is moving faster then my head, and any time I try to bring any of my ideas to life it just disipates.

Writing with ADHD: 5 Game Changers for Me

Here are some things that have been game changers for me as a writer with ADHD: [Edit: everyone's ADHD is different. This is just what works for me. It may not work for you...]

Planning: It's different for everyone with ADHD, but for me it's essential to spend time planning my story before I start writing. I like to flesh out as much as possible concerning plot, timeline, setting, world, characters and arcs, subplots, and themes.

Summary, Outline, and Scene List: Three items that are critical for me to have in hand before I sit down to write are a beginning to end summary of the story detailing all plot events as far as I know, an outline loosely based on the story structure template/s that feel right for the story (for example, I may use elements of Save the Cat! and some elements of of the Six-Stage Plot Structure), which helps me navigate my plot and hit the relevant plot points. And finally, I need a detailed scene list/timeline combo which lists chapter, scene, date/time, POV character, location, and a one to two sentence summary of what happens in the scene, including the character's goal in the scene, the scene's conflict, and the scene's resolution or how it carries into a later scene.

Gamifying: When I'm struggling with a particular time period or project, it can help me to gamify things. You can do this using a game board strategy, the Yahtzee Method, making a list of bench marks that serve as "levels," race against yourself by trying to bet the previous day's goal, etc. The key to gamifying is to set reasonable benchmarks and give yourself periodic rewards. Rewards can be anything from buying yourself a boba, watching a favorite TV show episode, an hour of playing your favorite game, or going to a movie. Some people like to go to the dollar store and buy a lot of small fun things and use those as rewards. Whatever works for you! Sometimes, turning it into a game with tangible progress and rewards can keep you motivated.

Setting Up a Routine: Although I have my general daily routine, I am without a doubt more productive when I can stick to a more specific routine that includes writing time. For me that works out to writing early in the day before other distractions start ramping up. When I put on my music, sit down with some coffee and a snack, and pull up my manuscript, my brain knows it's time to get to work. That doesn't always mean the work happens, but it's much more likely I'll get something done.

Minimizing Distractions: Anything that can be a distraction when I write is problematic. For that reason, I only listen to music without words and advertising. I turn off my phone or leave it in the other room. If possible, I try to use placeholders for things I need to look up. If I absolutely have to look something up and I get distracted by headlines, interesting articles or videos, or other things, I bookmark them in a special folder and immediately close the window. That way, I know I can go back to them later (I almost never do...) And, for me, as much as I love Scrivener and the ability to organize by chapter, have quick access to character profiles and photos, toggle between scene cards and my story... it's just too distracting for me. I'll sit down to write a chapter, then decide I need to re-do my scene cards, or cast characters, or do mood boards for every location in my story.

For that reason, writing in Word works best [for me] It's simple and there's nothing to distract me. Any story references I might need while writing, such as character profiles and photos, mood boards and aesthetics, setting inspiration photos, etc. are all organized in a special folder, categorized into sub-folders, so I can go straight to the required reference.

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[starstruckmiraclekitty]

THE 141 RESPONDING TO READER'S CRAVINGS (pregnant or not) SUSPICIOUSLY BUT STILL GETTING THEM WHAT THEY WANT cuz they love them 😭😭

Hehe, absolutely! I did this one just as pregnant readers cravings if that's okay! I've heard of some really interesting ones to say the least🤣

141's + König's Reactions To Pregnant Readers Cravings

Warnings: mentions of gagging, urge to throw up

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon awoke to an empty bed, groaning as he stretched his arms out to find your side of the bed cold. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched before swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

His brows furrowed slightly as he could smell the aroma of tomato sauce in the air. It was 8 am, what were you up to downstairs?

He made his way down to the kitchen and found you singing along your favorite song, cooking away at the stove.

"...babe?" He asked, approaching you slowly. "What, uh, what are you making?"

"Have you ever seen the movie ELF? With Will Farrell? That scene where he makes the spaghetti? It just sounded really good." You turned to him with a wide smile, as you giggled maniacally.

Simon swallowed thickly, slightly terrified at what was unfolding in front of him. He'd be lying, though, if he said he didn't find the sight of you adorable. You had a raging bedhead, your makeup still slightly smudged from yesterday, and were draped in one of his shirts, which practically dwarved you despite your growing belly.

He watched as you struggled with the pasta and chuckled slightly before making his way over to you, placing his hands on your waist as he kissed your forehead. "Need help?"

"Yes! Oh, that'd be great. The sauce is almost done. Can you get the syrup and the candy from the pantry?" You turned to him with a smile, and there was no way in hell Simon could ever say no to you.

He did as he was asked and felt his insides churn slightly as he watched you throw all of the ingredients together on the plate.

"Darn bottle won't open!" You huffed in frustration, prompting Simon to come to the rescue. "Thanks, Si. Once it's opened, can you pour it all over the pasta?"

"You want...syrup all over the pasta?" He suddenly realized you were being quite serious about the reference to the Christmas movie. "I uh.. okay."

He felt bile rise in his throat as he poured the syrup all over the pasta and tomato sauce, and it took everything in him not to puke as he watched you scarf it down. "It's SO good, Simon!"

"Sweetheart, I love you, but that looks dreadful." He chuckled, patting you on the head. "I'll go to the store and buy some TUMS, lord knows you'll need it later."

He gave a kiss to your head before grabbing his keys, stopping when you called out to him, waiving a small piece of paper. "Wait! I have a list. Can you get me these?"

"God, you're lucky I love you." He rolled his eyes playfully as he pressed a kiss to your lips. "Oh blood hell, that tastes horrid."

He grabbed the piece of paper and had to bite back a laugh as he looked at what was on the list. "Hot sauce? Ice cream? Tuna? Do I want to know?"

"Probably best not to ask."

John Price-

"Babe, I was going to order us some dinner, what did you want?" Your husband, John, called from the other room.

"I'm actually okay! Order for yourself. Found my new favorite snack." You shouted back, digging into the food in front of you.

Confused, given that you never turned down the chance to order food, John made his way into the kitchen, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you.

You were perched on the counter, 5 months pregnant, and in your lap was a carton of ice cream, with a jar of pickles right next to you. He watched as you scooped at the ice cream with one of the pickles in your hand.

John had to practice wicked self-restraint, as he tried desperately to not puke. "Love. Are you eating pickles... and ice cream?"

You nodded your head vigorously before biting off a chunk of pickle and spooning ice cream into your mouth seconds after. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a content sigh.

"Who knew! That pickles and ice cream would be SUCH a good combination?" You exclaimed, a wide smile on your face. "You should try it!"

"Oh. No, that's all you love. Wouldn't want to take it from you." He replied, trying to be polite. Though he found the idea utterly repulsive, he didn't want to make you feel bad about what you were craving.

John watched on, horrified, as you downed nearly the entire carton of ice cream and at least a half dozen pickles. How you weren't getting sick from it, he'd never know.

"Do you know if we have peanut butter?" You asked, turning to your husband with a hopeful gaze.

John blinked a few times before realizing you were talking to him. "Oh, yeah. Let me uh, grab it for you."

He reached in the cabinet next to you and slid you the jar of peanut butter. You grabbed at it and methodically dipped the pickle you were holding into the peanut butter. This time, Price couldn't hide the look of disgust on his face.

"Oh my God, this is incredible. I don't know why I didn't try this before!"

"I can think of quite a few reasons why a perfectly sane person wouldn't try it." He chuckled, and quickly dodged as you threw the spoon at him.

"Hey, Mister! You know better than to rile up a person when they are pregnant! It's not good for the baby!" You said playfully, as you flicked pickle juice at your husband. "Anyways, go ahead and order whatever you want!"

"Oh, sweetheart, my appetite is long gone."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Hey, when you're out... could you possibly get pickles... and jelly?" You approached your husband shyly as you twirled your hair between your fingers. You'd had this craving for weeks, and it was getting to the point where you could no longer ignore it.

Johnny stiffled a laugh before offering a mock salute. "No idea what you'll do with those, but sure thing. I'll be back soon."

~

You met Johnny at the door when he returned, and were quick to grab the bag from his hands and sprint to the kitchen. You tore through the bag to grab the jar of pickles, and the jelly, and made quick work of spending the jelly all across the pickle.

"So, you going to make a peanut butter and jelly sandy? I didn't know if we had bread so I bought it... I bought..." Johnny's words trailed off as his eyes landed on you, practically inhaling the jelly covered pickle.

You turned to him with a sheepish gaze as you swallowed the remainder of your concoction. "What?"

"You just...ate pickles and jelly?" He asked, his brows raising.

"Look, it sounds gross, but I promise you, it tastes amazing. Try it!" You held up the second jellied pickle to him with a proud smile.

Johnny shook his head, chuckling and against his better judgment, grabbed the pickle from you, and took a bite.

"Not.. Not terrible." He said, coughing slightly. "Have you heard of dipping chips in honey though? Heard that's a weird craving but am tempted to try it if you're down, we've got the ingredients for it."

From that moment on, Johnny helped you with any pregnancy craving you had, and even encouraged some of them. He'd find various combinations on social media and would try them along with you.

The two of you even made it a game to see who could come up with the tastiest, weirdest combination. Surprisingly, Johnny won nearly every time.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"Hey, babeeee?" You called out to your husband, Kyle, who was cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

"Yeah love, what's up?" Kyle asked, looking over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon.

"Could you possibly put a glob of Nutella on the side with my plate of bacon?" You bit your lip nervously, unsure of how Kyle would react to the unusual request.

"Sure, but what did you need it for? I don't have any toast made."

"I uh...dipping the bacon in it sounded rather good, so I wanted to try it."

"Well that's a new one, don't think I've heard that one before." Kyle chuckled.

He finished up cooking and put together a small plate of bacon and Nutella for you. He stared at it for a moment, wondering how you possibly could've come up with this concoction. To say he was curious of how it would taste, was an understatement.

He walked over to you with a smile and handed you the plate, laughing softly as you did a small happy dance. "One plate of bacon and Nutella for my love."

"Oh, it smells heavenly, thanks, Ky!" You dug right into the food, groaning loudly as it tasted even better than you thought it would. "Kyle, you have to take a bite. I know it looks gross, but it's so good."

Kyle couldn't help himself. The giant smile on your face had you looking adorable, and he'd do anything to make you happy. He walked over and took one of the slices of bacon before dipping it in the Nutella.

"Holy shit. This is so delicious, babe." His eyes lit up as the flavor exploded on his tongue. He grabbed another slice of bacon and used it to scoop up a large bit of the hazelnut spread.

You giggled as you moved the plate to the middle of the table, and gestured to the seat next to you.

Needless to say, the two of you spent the better part of that morning eating Nutella and bacon, not that either of you were complaining.

König-

"Maus, what's all this in the cart?" König asked as he watched you throw yet another thing into your overflowing shopping cart.

"Oh! I'm just super hungry. I had a few things I wanted to try out." You gave him an elated glance before barreling down another aisle to grab another ingredient.

König chuckled to himself before looking down at the array of ingredients in the cart. You had everything from hot sauce to ice cream to oranges. He swallowed thickly as he remembered reading something in one of the pregnancy books he bought about the weird cravings those who were pregnant got.

You both made it home about an hour later, and he watched as you bolted inside, with one of the bags tucked firmly in your arms. He followed behind you and nearly gagged when he watched you grab the bottle of hot sauce and the jar of peanut butter. Surely... you weren't going to..

"Kö, can you get me a spoon?" You asked sweetly as you opened the ingredients in front of you.

König stood there for a moment, unable to process what was happening before he shook himself. He walked over slowly, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and handing it to you hesitantly. He watched as you snatched it from his hands, got a spoonful of peanut butter, and drizzled a decent bit of hot sauce on top.

You put the spoonful in your mouth and licked the entire spoon clean, moaning as you absorbed the taste. You put the spoon back in the peanut butter, before repeating the process with the hot sauce. "This is just what I needed."

"It...it tastes good?" König asked, bewildered. In his life, he'd seen people eat some pretty weird shit, but this easily took the cake.

"Oh gosh, it so does. Try it?" You asked, beaming as you turned to him. He gulped audibly as he approached you, taking the outstretched spoon.

You watched him with a hopeful gaze, as he took a tiny bit of the concoction on the spoon. He did his best to keep a straight face as he processed the taste and was trying not to gag as he desperately did not want to hurt your feelings.

He cleared his throat a few times before darting over to the fridge to grab a drink. He grabbed the first beverage he could find and downed it. "Maus.."

You gave a small giggle as you watched your husband's struggles. "Not a fan?"

"Oh, no, it was.. it was good. I'm just very thirsty." He gasped out as he finished the last of his drink. "Perhaps, I could make you a better snack though? I don't know how filling this will be for you."

"What kind of snack did you have in mind?"

König gave a hearty chuckle. "Well considering we bought half the store today, I'm sure I could come up with something."

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