#stitch fix men

[tododeku-or-bust]

I need y'all to understand that the list of things this male lead has done to the MC is a strong enough list for anyone to wonder why we're supposed to be rooting for them, and that's with me having skipped like 65% of the chapters so far. God forbid I actually read all of this to add more sins bc the fact that it's looking like she's gonna go back to him is INSANE like girl RUN he's fucking NUTS none of the men in this story are good they're all GARBAGE-

[mad-hunts]

👄 + Scarecrow

there's a pause from barton, or THE DOLLMAKER, as he was currently dressed in all of the garb appropriate to his namesake upon being asked about the complicated case that was jonathan crane. a displeased hum left his lips then as if the act of just mentioning him was bothersome to him — and truthfully, gauging by what he said next, it might have very well been, ❝ ugh. you can't tell because i'm wearing my mask, but i'm rolling my eyes right now. if i tell you how i feel about him, then will you finally leave me alone? i'm busy, you know, ❞ barton's voice was very matter-of-fact as he spoke, though it was raised a degree, like he wanted to make sure whoever this was who was asking him this would hear him. he leaned forward towards them with his hands gripping the autopsy table in front of himself.

❝ i think he squandered his potential the moment he decided to pursue the very unreachable goal that is conquering his own fears, and so, i don't know whether i want to grimace at him every single time i see him or simply avoid him. because fear is something that is engrained in us, and without it, we'd all likely be dead. so by pursuing a way to find out how to remove this very necessary thing we have for survival... it makes him look like he's incredibly ignorant because it's something that doesn't need to be conquered, in my opinion, and so he isn't exactly using his 'smarts' effectively. which is why i consider him a waste of potential; he's just going to keep on running in circles for eternity trying to find a way to get rid of it. but what do i know, i'm not a psychologist like he is. ❞

there's an important distinction there as barton referred to him as a psychologist in the present tense rather than the past tense. barton's mask suddenly creased in the furrow between his brows as if he were getting annoyed, ❝ i also think he's an uppity asshole who acts like he's a lot more important than he actually is, but i have to say... and don't tell him i said this because the last thing i need is for him to think we're suddenly friends; i do somewhat respect him at the same time. he does seem like a really intelligent man, but like i said; if he'd just ditch the whole ' i have to conquer my own fear ' thing, he would so much better off. i suppose he has been kind of drifting away from that in recent times, though, but not nearly enough. he is also someone who likes experimenting on people and exploiting their fears because he likes to feel as if he's being taken seriously and like he's big, powerful. so it was out of insecurity that he started making his toxin at all. or, at least, that's how i see it. ❞

barton shrugged his shoulders slightly and turned around to have his back pressed against the table. whether this was on purpose or not was unclear, but he could've been doing it to hide his reaction to what he was going to talk about next, ❝ i think he himself still has some beef with me over the incident me and him had in arkham. which is fine, of course, i don't really care. but it has been a while since i took that needle and thread to his lips because he really does have the widest smile. and it makes me physically want to squirm whenever i see it because i just... want to fix it. it's too wide, you know. i suppose it's probably likely he remains hung up over it to this day because i didn't use anesthesia, ❞ barton flipped his whole body around then, a bit of a twisted snort leaving his lips. ❝ but where are you going to get that in arkham? they don't even let us see the dentist half the time, so you know. i had to improvise. but anyway, does that answer your question? ❞

[buckyalpine]

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

-

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

-

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

-

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

[atyourmerci]

† Repent †

Read pt.2 here

†

Summary: You are sent off on a mission for 2 months. Abigail Anderson, the group leader, resents you for your sexuality until she gets drunk and ends up at your doorstep.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, alcohol usage, sub!abby, comphet!abby, brattop!reader, religion play, oral, fnv, tribbing, dirty talk yurrr, mentions of Owen so sorry, no use of y/n

A/N: Hey my horny sluts, this was very self indulgent fic. Definitely not for everyone but I wanted to play with this internal homophobia abby angle and through hella porn in it<3 hope you like it:)))

†

You were stationed off at a base camp for two months along with a group of WLF soldiers. This group was Issac’s top of the line, best fighters, engineers, and you accompanying as the best medic on line. The area was cased with scars and there was likely to be bloodshed. Issac couldn’t risk letting more than one medic for this long trip but there was no way he was sending a training med to work on his top of line children.

You knew most of the group well since you were always given the honor of fixing them. There were a few girls that kept you busy when there wasn’t a wound to heal. No one you’d keep around for long, you didn’t have the time to start relationships in this job, but a good fuck wasn’t beyond you. Days turned into long nights either stitching lesions or under the next sculpted woman that begged at your knees.

You were used to the attention, you were charming, beautiful, slightly bitchy, maybe a bit overzealous in your work but your forte was needed for these people. The men had attempted their shot with you, but everyone knew where you stood in the sheets. That’s why Abigail Anderson despised you.

It took you awhile to understand, from the moment she found out what you were doing in off hours she resented your lifestyle. Sure, she played it off by saying you were, ‘too distracted for your position’ or that ‘you got around’. Frankly you didn’t understand why she fucking cared. One day drunkenly her best friend Manny had said your ‘ways’ made her uncomfortable.

You knew she had been with her boyfriend Owen for a couple of years, and never left her room without her cross neckless- fuck she’d even shower with it on. That day in the open showers you had seen her look over at your naked body and return her hand to her cross gripping it tight with her eyes closed, leaving in a scoff. You just didn’t understand why her distain for you persisted- you thought it would space off once she got to know you.

After a couple months of backhanded comments, side eyes, and aggression you chose to just distance yourself from her at all costs. Maybe she had gotten the memo since she always requested your secondhand med to treat her, even knowing she wasn’t as suitable.

Once you found out shed be leading the mission for 2 months in close proximity you were blown. You asked Issac to switch you out for your secondhand- but he refused. After days of pestering him, he said he wouldn’t be changing his mind, Abby had asked for you specifically to accompany the mission. Why the fuck would she ask for you was beyond you, but you made it your agenda to fuck with her relentlessly for her decision.

You made sure to chose the room directly next to her so she could hear your sinful cries getting your back blown. leaving your white shirt un-buttoned low enough so your cleavage would spill out when you worked on her, blistering irritated grunts out of her. For someone so worked up about your lifestyle she always seemed to be watching your every move.

Watching you out of the corner of her eye change in the showers, walking out of her room just as you were heavy breathing lip locked with a girl making your way into sin. One time you were stitching a gash on her leg she gripped onto your hip in pain, her eyes trailed to your spilling cleavage before she snapped out of her haze saying, “uhhh- sorry its just painful there. Just fucking hurry up.” Knowing you had phased her you responded in a simple “mhm,” and continued working.

Maybe her morbid curiosity was at play, maybe she was just a fucking homo- but she’d never admit that to anyone and definitely not herself.

A month and a half in the base lagged by, there was only 2 weeks left of the painful glares and snarky comments left from your leader. The area had grown quiet for a while, most of the scars had retreated from your stay. Manny had made the decision for everyone to take the night off, set up a bonfire in the wooded areas behind the abandoned hotel, and get shitfaced on some homemade wine that was finally finished fermentation. It tasted like piss but was strangely intensely stronger than anything you had found in vacant bars.

Once the sun had fallen you were all seated around the roaring fire under the nigh sky. You had downed two glasses of piss wine and were already pretty spent. Abby was perched upon a log across the fire from you, in her usual dominating manspread and arms draped across her meaty thighs, on her fourth cup of sour. The sight was quite shocking- Abby never drank that much, something about the loss of control she didn’t like.

Her eyes were like lasers on you, usually she’d attempt to hide her ever glaring stare, maybe she was too intoxicated to care. All day she was on one, lashing out at people, throwing shit. She was always mildly aggressive, but you had never seen her to this extent.

The girl adorned behind you, pulling at your hips was probably the cause of her disapproving eyes, but this time felt harsher. You watch as she finishes off her glass and returns her eyes back to you with gritted teeth. “Manny hand me the wine,” she barks, her eyes never leaving you. Manny looks at her angered stare, crossing his eyes back to your direction and back to her, “Que pasa amiga, I think you’re good for now,” he says with a laugh.

“Just hand me the fucking wine,” she directs her attention to Manny- some people throw out ‘woahs’ and ‘damns’ at her attitude. Manny hands her the bottle with no reply. “Somebody needs to get fucked already,” you throw out with enough drunken confidence knowing it will rile her up. “Not everything can be fixed with sex, not that you’d understand,” she drives her eyes deeper into your own.

“Well, if I was having the sex you were having, I’d go celibate,” you say causing a guttural laugh from everyone, easing up the built tension.

“Whore,” she retorts.

“Awh someone’s mad her boyfriend can’t make her cum,” you give her a pout.

Her cheeks grow red in anger- maybe embarrassment since you didn’t have to take 2 looks at Owen to know he couldn’t please a women, especially not one of that stature. She darts up from her seat, all but a growl escaping her mouth. She grabs the half full bottle from Manny and takes off.

“What crawled up her ass?” You direct to Manny. He gives you eyes that speak louder than his mouth could utter in a way of ‘you’re the reason she’s so pissed off, you know that’. Maybe you had pushed her too far, but fuck did she deserve it. She deserved to get called on her bullshit for once- everyone just cowered down to her. Sure, she was tall, muscly, and heavily intimidating but you know how to drive the knife right into her.

You enjoyed riling her up, driving her to her very edge. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but you were hot at the sight of her aggression, the way the veins in her arm popped as she ripped the bottle out of Manny’s hand. You weren’t attracted to straight girls, especially not homophobic straights- but you thought of her. Every snarky remark, touching her skin in passings as you healed her danced in your mind.

You brushed off your thoughts, you were just drunk you told yourself. The fire had died down soon after Abby’s fit, everyone was either ready to retire to bed or fuck. You chose the latter with the touchy girl sitting behind you. She was a good one, never had to kick her out after you finished- she knew what you wanted.

You make your way back to the dingy hotel, hand and hand with the pretty brunette. By the time you had made it to your doorway the girl had you up against the door needily. Of course, you let it happen, you were waiting for Abby to conveniently walk out and watch you. She never came out; you were almost disappointed but persisted with the brunette. You made sure to exaggerate every moan, every sinful word, even unsuspectedly convinced her to fuck you against the wall you shared with Abby- just to make sure she would hear.

After orgasming twice, she was out the door, no awkward post-sex cuddling or talking, wasn’t your thing and she knew that. You lay your sleepy drunken head on your pillow ready to sleep. Within five minutes you heard Abby’s door slam shut, and a harsh knock on your door. You knew that you had pissed her off, your job was done so you ignored her calls and nuzzled back onto your pillow with a smirk.

Another knock slams your door, “I know you’re in there, open the door,” Abby huskily demands. You walk over to the door, wearing only your loose tank top and panties. You swing the door open to a disheveled Abby, heavy breathing, eyes half lidded, in a white wife pleaser and loose black sweats, cross necklace adorned by her collarbones. Her muscles looked as if they were pulsing, her abs etched through her shirt.

After seconds of intense glaring, she moves past you into your room without an invitation. “Abby what the hell could you possibly need right now…” you can smell the liquor reeking off her sweaty body, “how much have you had to drink” you say but she quickly cuts you off, “do you really think I cant fucking hear you in here with those- girls?” She says girls with a disgusted flare. “I know you can,” you retort with your arms crossed. “Why are you like that,” she says confused. “Like what Abby? Gay? You can say it- God wont strike you down for speaking it,” you shoot her a smug laugh. “You- you’re fucking insufferable,” she says drunkenly. “You walked into my room; you don’t have to be here.”

She walks up so close to your face you can feel her breath, the smell of sour laced. “I came here to tell you how you disgust me,” she says heavy breathed. “Is that so?” You pierce your eyes into hers, not giving into her intimidation. “Ye-yeah,” she falters at you standing your ground. Her eye contact directs down to your plush lips, she licks her own. You bite your bottom lip to drive into her.

“Why are you such a bitch?” She raises her eyes back to yours, this time glassier, gentler. “You’re mad you don’t scare me,” now you step closer to where you are exchanging each other’s breath. She responds wordlessly breathing heavier than before, lips parted as if she was waiting for something to come out. You stare up into her eyes dragging your bottom lip back into your mouth with your teeth. “Stop fucking doing that,” she demands not moving a muscle.

You give her an innocent pout, “I’m not doing anything Abigail, you can leave right now if you’re so uncomfortable,” trailing your eyes back and fourth from her lips to her eyes. “Give in to me,” Abby pleads almost submissively, her eyes looked like she could cry. “I’m not going to make this easy for you, if you want something take it,” you are eager at this point, still trying to keep your confidence intact.

She gives it a second, probably internally battling, in a huff she mutters “Fuck,” and grabs your face crashing your lips aggressively together. She took the breath out of you, kissing you like she needed it for survival. Both of you are too ravished to process reality. You grabbed aimlessly at her chest needing the friction of her warmth. She forces her tongue onto yours letting a moan escape her mouth. You were done for.

You pull her to your bed never leaving her lips, crashing over boxes and shoes but neither of you falter your embrace. You push her onto your bed, making your way on top of her. Before you can reattach your lips, she pushes a hand into your chest stopping you, “I- I’m not gay,” she says with weary eyes. You simply respond with “okay,” and reattempt to kiss her, she pushes you back again, “okay?” she questions. “Do you want me to me to stop?” You question back. She pulls you in ruggedly, so her mouth is against yours, needy again.

You pull back from her embrace, “I want to hear you say it Anderson,” she shakes her head like a child, like she couldn’t say it aloud. You start to get up from the bed when she pulls you back down grasp heavy and deprived, “jus- just do it, I- I want it.” “Good girl,” you reply and straddle on top of her causing whimpers to flow out of the husky blonde.

You move down to kiss on her neck, biting slightly then licking the wound. You can see her hand white knuckling her cross necklace, eyes shut. Through heavy moans she confesses, “Thi-s is- isn’t right…what you’re doing t- to me.” You smirk into her neck trailing your fingers down her arching chest, “just pretend I’m Owen,” knowing you’ll strike a chord at the mention of her boyfriend.

You go back to her collarbone nibbling and licking as you rise her shirt slowly, exposing her sweaty chiseled stomach. “You don’t fe- feel like him, he doesn’t touch me like this,” before she can finish your hand is under her shirt teasing at her nipple slowly. She throws her head back in a groan, unknowingly bucking her hips into you.

“I’m barely touching you Abby- he’s never done this to you,” you say not surprised, moving your free hand to grip her other nipple. She shakes her head at you in a pout. Seeing her like this, so unraveled and vulnerable made you pulse, you could feel your cunt pooling already.  

While you have her eye contact you move your head down to suck and lick circles around her soft pink nipple, her eyes barely open and mouth open panting. While sucking on her bud you trail your hand down to her sweats, teasing your fingertips at the waistband, but continue down to palm her covered pussy.

Her hips jolt up at your touch, “Jesus fuck me!” she yelps. “You say your prayers with that mouth, huh?” You jab, palming her cunt over layers of clothing. Her hips continue to rut against your hand, her hand continues to grip onto her cross for dear life, the other gripped down into your sheets. “Please… please take them off,” She begs you weary eyed. Since she was getting increasingly pathetic you drag down her sweaty pants to reveal grey boxers, a patch of wet pooled at her pussy. You lay kisses down her thighs and legs as you slowly unclothe her.

Once you pull them all the way down you meet your face at her cunt, wrapping your arms around her thick thighs, she couldn’t stop whimpering at your little touches. You place a slight kiss on her boxer clade cunt. “Fuckkkk,” she moans out. “If I eat your pretty pussy, are you going to repent after?” You say smirking at her desperation. “I- I have to, ke-ep going please,” she pants raising her cross to her heart. “Aren’t you a good little servant?” You drag down her soaked boxers.

You push your fingers into her soaked slit pushing it open to admire her. “You’re so fucking wet fuck,” you say gawking at the ‘straight’ girls mound, her slick running down her thighs. “a- are you going to use your fingers,” she asks in a pant. “We’ll get there,” you say smirking latching your tongue on her swollen clit. “oh my god,” she screams out at the feeling of your tongue against her.

You begin sucking and tracing crosses and circles on her clit that causes her back to arch her back and let go off her cross to grip into the sheets with both hands. “Fuck fuck fuck- you feel s’good fuck me fuck me,” she begins babbling. You start to tease her soaked hole with your finger that sent her hips bucking into your hand to force entry.

“So impatient Anderson,” you taunt her. “Ill do wh-whatever you want just please fuck me,” she begs you now cupping your face with her large veiny hands, her eyes droopy and pout on her lips. “Tell me how much you like getting fucked by a girl,” you pump just the tip of your pointer finger into her entrance. “You feel so good,” she says panting in desperation.

“Not good enough,” you say pulling out your fingertip. She whimpers feeling your retreat. “I- I worship you, yo- you feel so good Ill get on my knees and worship you please baby,” she looks like she’s nearing tears, but the pleading hits you deep in your core. You needed to see her fall apart just as much as she needed to feel it.

Without warning you plunge two fingers deep inside of her cushiony walls, sending her falling back into the sheets, her hands gripped into your scalp. You return back to her clit, watching her chest rise and fall in breath idly, sweat dripping down the creases of her abs. You hear as she mumbles prayer under her breath, maybe she was worshiping her god, maybe at this point you were her god.

You continued nonetheless; it didn’t matter at this point she had submitted pathetically to you. Your tongue laps at her creamy slit, your fingers coating in her slick. “I-m going to cum I- cant take that much longer,” she moans out shaking around your head.

You pull out of her abruptly making her whine out, sitting up on her elbows. “Not yet…” you say getting up taking off your soaked panties and returning to her. She watches you intently, her eyes grow at the sight of your cunt. “A-are you going to let me touch you?” She asks doe eyed. “No, I’m going to rub my cunt against yours, okay?” she sheepishly nods. “Gonna make sure you cum from just my pussy,” she whimpers at your words.

You nuzzle your cunt on top of hers in between her thighs. “You feel so good against me fuck,” she whines. You lazily drag your clit against her as moans now flow out your own mouth. She grips into your hip helping you grind into her, at the slight act of dominance causes you whimper into her raised thigh. “Fuck keep t-talking you sound so fucking good,” her mouth is wide open, beads of sweat on her legs mixing with your own. You feel as your slick combines with hers making a complete mess on your sheets.

“Baby I- I’m so close,” she whimpers gripping so deeply into your hip she was sure to bruise you. “Cum for me pretty girl, be a good girl and serve me,” you pant driving your eyes into the broken Abigail. She begins shaking at your words, falling apart beneath you. “fuck fuck fuck oh my fucking god i-m cu-mming ahhh,” she begins soaking your sheets. Of course, she was a fucking squirter.

You help her ride out her orgasm, gently rubbing down her thigh with your fingertips. “Wh- why is it so wet?” she rises groggily and confused. You giggle at her innocence, “you squirted dumbass, you’ve never done that before?” you cant help but grin up at her beauty and pure innocence. “No never, I’ve never even…you know…reached my peak with someone before,” you look into her eyes in pure shock gapping your mouth exaggeratedly.

“God I really would go celibate if I was you,” you giggle, and she gives you a slight smirk pulling you down on top of her. You circle your fingers across her chest, feeling her breath steady, she drags her fingers through your messy hair. “I’m not going to tell anyone Abby, this can be between us.” You say assuring her. “o-okay,” she responds sheepishly as if there was something else in her throat. Maybe she wanted to say it would never happen again, that her sexuality was intact after your night, maybe she wanted to say she wanted to leave Owen and linger on your skin forever, or maybe she began to repent.

[hangeswif3]

Somewhere safe

Pairing: Bonten!Rindou x Pregnant!reader

Warning: blood, mentions of pregnancy, cursing.

Summary: they needed a place to stay and just happens that Rindou knows someone who could help them.

Note: English isn’t my first language so be nice. I liked a lot how this turned out so maybe I could keep writing about Rindou’s little family. Anyways, I hope u like it and thanks for reading <3

“We need to go somewhere safe” said sanzu. “Mikey needs to rest”

They had been running from the police for a while now. Mike had recent stitches on his abdomen and they had been carrying him for about an hour or so. The 4 men were exhausted and they all knew Mikey couldn’t make it any longer by himself. They needed to rest.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Sanzu spoke again. Recharging his gun, almost preparing himself to fight a lost battle.

They could hear the police cars around them, while they were currently hidden in a dark alley, all of them panting and tired.

Ran looked at Rindou with question in his eyes. They were thinking the same thing. They needed a safe place to rest and wait for the police to go away. They were in Roppongi and just happened that someone close to the brothers lived close by.

Rindou was hesitant. Making eye contact with his brother who could almost read his mind. He couldn’t believe he was even considering going to the only person who never wanted to get involved in this.

“Fuck… fine” he said while putting his gun in his belt. “Follow me.”

Ran already knew the way but he left his brother walk alone for now. He wasn’t happy about this either.

“Where the fuck are we going?” Asked sanzu, who was in the back, holding onto an almost passed out Mikey. No one responded to him, instead they just kept walking in between apartments and houses.

It was a nice neighborhood. Without counting the fact that they were covered in blood and all disheveled, it could almost look like they were taking a walk tonight. It was dark though, the street light almost didn’t work and besides the sounds of sirens, it was completely quiet. They could only hear their footsteps.

They arrived to a nice house with a nice garden and a nice car parked outside. The 4 men stood at the front porch and Rindou looked at his brother, Ran only nodded once, trying to make him feel more confident.

Sanzu was the only one who didn’t know what was happening, since Mikey was too out of it to even notice.

“Hurry up and open, who the hell lives here anyway?” Said the pink-haired man, clearly frustrated to not know.

“Shut the fuck up and behave.” Responded Ran.

Rindou ringed the bell once, while trying to look decent by fixing his hair a little.

A moment passed before the front light turned on and they could hear someone managing to open the door.

-

It was 2:30 a.m. so you were obviously sleeping before someone knocked at your door. You opened the door, and everyone stared at you. You were wearing shorts and a white t shirt, your hair looked a little crazy since you had just gotten out of bed.

Rindou and Ran had seen you like this before. But sanzu couldn’t help but stare. He had never seen you before in his life. You were beautiful, your hair in a messy bun and strands of it adorning your face, your pretty freckles and your rosy lips. You were just perfect. But what surprised him the most was when he looked down at your belly. You were pregnant. But who the hell were you?

“What the actual fu-“ he started, but you interrupted him.

“You’re bleeding” was the only thing you said, walking towards Rindou and examining his arm.

They were all so surprised and nervous to see you that they almost forgot why they were there.

“It’s not mine. I’m fine, okay?” He said looking for your eyes, putting his hand on your cheek.

“Hey princess” said Ran. You smiled at him, and couldn’t help but look at Sanzu and the man he was holding. He looked bad. “We might need your help.”

“I’ll explain everything” said Rindou.

You nodded and entered the house with everyone following you.

“Make yourselves at home, and I’m sorry for the mess. I fell asleep while baby proofing the house.” You said, while taking the tools away, so they all could sit and relax.

Sanzu layed Mikey down on the couch and made sure he was still okay. His stitches were miraculously still okay and he was still breathing. But he couldn’t help but stare at you. There was certain tension in the room.

“Oi, shithead, stop staring or I’ll take your eyes out” suddenly said Rindou, walking towards you, placing a hand on your lower back and the other on your belly.

Ran laughed and you only smiled, handing out a hand for Sanzu to shake.

“Y/n L/n. Nice to meet you.” You said.

Sanzu was so surprised that he couldn’t help but shake your hand too.

“Sanzu Haruchiyo.” Was all he said.

“Now that we all know each other, would you all like some tea?” Ran accepted your offer and you went to the kitchen, followed by Rindou.

After you were gone, Sanzu finally could talk.

“What the actual fuck? Rindou? With her? And- and- a baby?” He blurted out all at once.

“Yup” was all that Ran said, laughing at him.

“Huh, who would’ve thought that asshole could pull someone like that” he said resting his head on the back of the couch, trying to make sense of everything he just witnessed.

In the kitchen, you were trying to make some tea, feeling Rindou’s presence at the counter. He still couldn’t speak.

“Are you okay?” You asked him.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he said.

You walked towards him and put a hand on his cheek, looking at him in the eye.

“It’s okay” you responded, pressing your forehead against his.

“No it’s not, I don’t wanna put you in danger.”

“You can take care of us, I know you can.” You tried to calm him down.

“We just need a place to stay for the night, I promise I will never bring someone else here.”

“This is your home too, we will be okay, you can stay and they can stay too. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Rindou kissed you, it was a sweet kiss.

“How’s our babygirl doing?” He said, caressing your belly.

“She’s a pain in the ass, just like her father” you said laughing. “Now let’s go back before that friend of yours loses his mind.”

“Too late for that” said Rindou.

-

“So, miss L/n. Care to explain how you know our dear Rin rin?” Asked Sanzu with a smile.

“Shut the fuck up, you psycho” snapped Rindou.

“Don’t be so rude, Rin rin” you said, mocking the nickname. “Well, mister Sanzu, we actually meet at an illegal car race, he saved me from getting robbed.” You replied laughing.

“Interesting woman.” Sanzu said.

It was true though. Your friend had dragged you to a race where a “friend” was going to participate. You looked so innocent but at the same time so relaxed that Rindou couldn’t help but stare at you. One thing led to another and he ended up saving your purse from being stolen. And now you were here, pregnant with his baby.

“And how far along are you, may I ask?” He continued.

“23 weeks, actually. Thanks for asking.” You responded.

“I can’t believe our little Rindou here is gonna be a father.”

“Okay, enough with the questions.” Rindou couldn’t help but interrupt. “Y/n, to our room.” He said without looking at you.

You looked at him, raising your eyebrow. He noticed this.

“Please.” Was all he said.

You knew he wasn’t happy so you decided to obey.

“Gentlemen.” You said, walking to your room.

“Goodnight dear.” Said Ran.

Once you were gone, Rindou walked towards Sanzu.

“Okay now you little shit, we’re gonna stay here for tonight. Only tonight. When we’re gone, you’re gonna forget this place. You’re gonna forget she even exists, she’s won’t ever get involved with you or any of this.” He said. “Understood?”

“Now now, Haitani.” Said Sanzu, raising his hands, with a smug smile on his face. “Calm down. I won’t do nothing to her, I like her actually.”

“If you ever lay a hand on her, we will kill you.” Now spoke Ran.

Sanzu didn’t say another word, just smiled and nodded.

Rindou walked to your room. Like hell he was gonna let you sleep alone with that psychopath in his house. You were already asleep. The pregnancy made you extremely sleepy sometimes and it was past your bedtime.

Rindou layed down next to you and fell asleep with a hand on your belly.

-

The 4 men left first time in the morning.

“Sleep well darling, I’ll be back later today.” Rindou whispered to you, since you were still half asleep. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You said when he left.

“Congratulations.” Said Sanzu when they were walking towards their cars.

“What?” Asked Rindou, unsure on what he was talking about.

“For your baby, congratulations.” He replied, in a more serious tone. “I didn’t say that before.”

“Thank you.” Was all Rindou could say. He knew Sanzu was never going to say something about you to anyone.

If anything, Sanzu was loyal. And he knew how much you meant to Rindou. And who knows? Maybe your baby could actually grow up with a family.

[archangeldyke-all]

hiii I just found your blog from a recommendation and your writing is sososos freaking good omgosh. I was wondering If I could request nurse!reader who is hired by silco to help his team when they get injured and sevika is acting more careless during her fights just so she can go see her 🙏🙏🙏🙏

-💌

okay this is so cute

men and minors dni

you'd been working for silco for months before you even meet sevika.

from what you've heard from the crew, sevika doesn't ask for help. she serves herself at the bar downstairs, she goes on her missions alone, and she patches herself up after fights. if she can't reach her wounds so be it.

so you're not surprised when the first time you're introduced to the woman, she's bleeding out, half sedated, and still resisting the way singed and silco are dragging her into your little office.

"'m fine, jus' need a drink..." sevika insists as they lay her down. you chuckle at your patient, pulling on a pair of gloves.

"you're bleeding out." you point out to the woman. she huffs.

"'s a scratch."

"the knife's still inside you."

sevika blinks down at her side and pouts, like she hadn't noticed the knife sticking out of her side.

"will you be able to handle this?" singed asks, slowly backing away toward the door. silco's already vanished. you nod and wave singed away-- sending him back to his creepy lab to run experiments.

"you're the new nurse?" sevika slurs as you help her lay down, preparing injections and stitches.

"nice to finally meet you." you chuckle, nodding down at sevika as you hand her a vial of shimmer. "drink this." you ask. sevika obeys surprisingly easily, not taking her eyes off you once. "i got something on my face?" you ask.

sevika's eyes get droopy-- the shimmer's doing it's job and knocking her out. but right before she sleeps, she shakes her head no. "jus' pretty, 's all." she mumbles, before closing her eyes and snoring.

you blink down at your patient, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at her words.

you only remember that you're supposed to be working when her blood starts dripping down onto the floor.

after that first meeting, you start seeing sevika a lot more frequently.

she comes in the next week with a nasty gash on her cheek-- courtesy of some brass knuckles-- and a bleeding lower lip.

and despite the fact that you get her fixed up in fifteen minutes, sevika spends the rest of the afternoon in your office, making small talk with you and asking you about your time with silco so far.

she's surprisingly conversational-- funny in a deadpan, blink and you'll miss it kind of way-- and the two of you laugh so much that you go home that evening with sore abs and cheeks.

you see her again not three days later-- her good arm having been dislocated in a fight.

"you don't know how to do this to yourself?" you ask as you try to get the proper angle on her arm. sevika's moaning into a pillow in a way that's making you think horrible, dirty things.

"y-you're more gentle." she grunts, before biting the pillow again.

her words fluster you, and you shove her arm back in place without warning.

sevika howls and you cringe. "sorry, sorry. it's over now though." you try to soothe her, gently petting her hair.

sevika's pained moans get quieter, but she doesn't lift up from where she's collapsed against you in her shock. instead, she nuzzles just a little closer, wrapping both of her arms around your waist.

you gulp-- hoping she can't hear how fucking fast your heart's beating in your chest-- before gently wrapping your arms around her shoulders. "you okay?" you ask.

sevika nods against you. "yeah. are you?" she asks, an offer to pull away.

you just cling to her. "i'm great."

sevika starts visiting you on a daily basis after that.

from a puncture wound to a paper cut-- sevika will take any excuse to see you.

you see right through her. it's hard not to, when she's always milking her injuries to get kisses on her bandages and hugs and head scratches. you love it. she's fucking adorable, and she's keeping your mostly boring work interesting. especially since she sticks around for hours after you're officially done with her.

but then she comes in one day-- more like she's dragged in unconscious-- with a gunshot wound to the chest, and your heart stops.

you and singed work overnight to get her stable. and then you stay by her bedside for the whole day, waiting for her to wake up.

the moment she does, you burst into tears. sevika just pulls you into bed with her, letting you curl up around her. before you fall asleep, your ear pressed right against her heart so you can be sure she's fine, you can feel her press a gentle kiss to your head, her own arms wrapping around you.

she gets a week off to recover, but you see her again two days later.

"what the fuck are you doing here?!" you ask as sevika walks into your office. she's holding a paper bag in her hands. "if silco is making you work so soon after you were shot i'm gonna fucking kill--"

"relax." sevika giggles, placing the paper bag on your desk. "i, uh. i have a confession." she says.

you giggle. "that you gotta crush on me?" you guess. "you're kinda obvious, sev." you tease.

sevika rolls her eyes and flips you off. "no, shut up. you like me back." she says. you giggle. "i, uh. i mighta been fighting stupidly to see you more often." she mumbles. "y'know. blockin' with my face, 'n shit. and it was workin' real well, but then i got shot and i realized maybe i should just... ask you to lunch, or something."

you grin. "it might be easier for all of us."

"fuck off." sevika giggles. "look. i got us jericho's." she gestures to the paper bag on your desk. you grin.

"sit." you demand, pointing to the free chair by your desk. sevika smirks at you, and pulls her chair out, before pausing.

"just, one thing..." she mutters.

"oh! don't worry about it, i started storin' hot sauce in my desk for you, sev--" she cuts you off with her lips to yours, and you sigh, melting into the kiss and wrapping your arms around her.

by the time she pulls away, her lipstick is smudged, and you're certain the food is cold. you don't care. especially not when sevika sinks down into the chair across from you with the sweetest smile you've ever seen.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[asumi2020202]

Was I truly that Bad?

Pairing: Dad!Daemon x reader

Summary: Whilst fulfilling the wishes of his Queen, Daemon accidentally hurt you beyond repair. He regretted it till death.

A/n: This idea just recently popped up in my head. So I wrote it down hehe. Anyways, this will have the ending same as Helaena's. Thank you for reading.

Note:

There are some changes in the storyline.

It is short, I don't really know if I like it.

____________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ_____

All throughout the realm, you were the only one acknowledged as a true born child of Rhaenyra. You had silky white hair, and violet eyes like you mother and... Father

Rhaenyra had a you in secret. You were conceived after the birth of Jace but before the birth of Luke. Everyone knew you were Daemon's daughter since his affection was not really secretive.

You were offered to Aemond Targaryen to 'fix' the rift between the family much to your father's dislike.

The Hell broke loose when Luke died because of your husband and his dragon.

You had a son with Aemond. He was the only light you had after receiving the news of Aegon's coronation.

Aemond tried to be there for you when Aegon said that you would not leave your room. He wanted to keep you hostage knowing you were the Queen and King consort's daughter.

_________________________________________

"He has white hair and one eye. Should be easy enough to find." Daemon spoke.

The man before him stayed silent for a second before replying "What if we can't find him?".

Daemon only looked him in eye before giving further information.

_________________________________________

You were in the nursery, singing to you child when suddenly someone entered.

You thought it was a maid or Aemond. So you turned around only to find a rat catcher.

You were going to scream but he put his dagger on your throat before you could. You son was still in your arms.

The rat catcher smirked as another man entered.

"Who's she?" The other man asked.

"She's the Queen she is." Replied the rat catcher in a whispering manner.

"A son.. for a son he said."

"I know but look in her arms. That's the prince's son."

The rat catcher released your throat before saying " we ain't here to hurt ya. We only want the boy."

You looked visibly shocked and fear stricken.

"I have a necklace..... It is of great value." You spoke as you tried to removed it with one hand. The taller man tore it off you neck before saying "thats not a son."

"Kill me please. I beg you don't hurt my child." By now you were already crying. The rat catcher forcefully took your son from your hands.

In front of your very eyes you saw your little boy's head getting separated. The men hastily put his head inside a bag before leaving.

You started to sob heavily. Having difficulties breathing.

Aemond barged through the room after he heard your screams and wails. Alicent, Aegon and Otto were present too. Alicent wanted to throw up.

Aegon was sad. He always did love you. He wanted your mother to betroth you to him but he was already betrothed to Helaena. Now that he saw you like this, desperately trying to wipe the blood that oozed out of your son's body, he felt hurt too.

From that day forth, you didn't eat, sleep or even bathe. You were completely dead inside. More so when you got to know that the one who sent them was your father. Grief blinded you.

_________________________________________

The green council had decided to send you and the Dowager Queen to the funeral after they caught one of the perpetrator.

The people tried to reach for you as they saw your son, Baelor's body. The way the 1 year old boy's head was stitched with his neck.

The cart which held your son's body fell in a hole in the road. People tried to approach you and touch you, giving their condolences. You desperately clutched on Alicent's cloth as she tried to help you through your panic attack.

You couldn't hear anything. Only a ringing in your ear as you knelt in your and the Dowager Queen's cart. The last thing you heard was

"A curse! A curse on Rhaenyra the Monstrous!"

Someone cursed your mother. Soon all went black as your vision faded.

_________________________________________

"How could you do this Daemon?! To our sweet child!" Rhaenyra shouted, fury and sorrow flooding through.

"I told them specifically for Aemond. Shes my daughter as well, I know I did wrong. It was a mistake.

I was there that day. The day she was forced to attend the funeral. I am hurt as well knowing my daughter lost her son!" Daemon replied.

"You will never understand what a mother feels when she loses her child. My little girl lost her only child. Alicent reached out to me in secret! She told me that my girl is not even eating properly! She's down with a heavy fever..." Rhaenyra argued. She was crying.

Daemon had made a grave mistake. He never wanted to hurt you. He never meant for his grandchild to die. Right in front of your eyes. He wanted to kill Aemond for Luke's death, yes. But he wanted to kill Aemond so you could be free. So you could come back to your family. He never wanted to bring you pain. You were his daughter, his little zaldrīzes.

________________________________________

The black council was going on and on with what move they should play. Rhaenyra was getting frustrated.

Rhaenyra's personal maid, Elinda came in. She bowed before all, her eyes watering. As Rhaenyra was going to ask her what happened she said

"The princess is dead." All stopped. Everything and everyone silent. Rhaenyra stood still.

"A raven came in just n-now.... It said that Princess y/n jumped off of her window. H-her body was stabbed by Maegor's blades...." Elinda cried as she said. Leaving the room quickly.

The lords all left the council. Only Rhaena, Baela, Jacaerys, Daemon, Rhaenyra and Rhaenys were there.

Daemon couldn't comprehend anything. Her daughter..... Dead? No she wouldn't do that. A dragon's flame cannot be extinguished so easily.

Rhaenyra fell on the floor as Rhaenys supported her. She felt fury. But all she could do was cry. Her sweet girl. Her little Y/n. It was as if only yesterday she was tugging on her skirt and now she's....... dead.....

Jacaerys didn't know what to do. His little sister was dead. Consumed by the grief of the death of his nephew. First he lost Luke now y/n...

Baela and Rhaena cried that entire day. Blaming themselves for not protecting you as elder sisters should.

_________________________________________

Daemon was going to Harrenhal. As he was about to mount Caraxes, as guard came in and handed him something.....

....it was a necklace..... The same one he had given you. He felt a tear fall down his cheek. His heart hurt. So much. Yet he couldn't express it.

_________________________________________

Daemon had conquered Harrenhal. He was walking inside his leaking room when he heard his door being violently knocked on.

After picking up his sword, he carefully came down the stairs outside his room. He found a room.

He saw a figure humming while sitting infront of the fireplace.

As he got closer, the figure spoke to him

"I'm a bad child aren't i? You hate me. I always disobeyed everyone. But I only did so to be with you." It was you. His eyes watered. You were wearing the necklace he gave you.

He shook his head no. He didn't hate you because you disobeyed. He loved you for it.

"Why did you punish me so much ? Was I truly that Bad...... Kepã?" He heard you say as he got closer. He saw you stitching your son's head while crying.

His sword fell from his hand as he woke up. He opened his eyes to see a tree. He turned around and saw a woman.

_________________________________________

It was tough. But he did it anyway. He jumped off of Caraxes and landed on Vhagar.

Gripping the Dark Sister tight in his hand, he stabbed it straight through Aemond's right eye.

He saw as Aemond fall in the water. He stumbled as he fell off. Caraxes took Vhagar inside the water.

As Daemon slowly fell from the sky , all he could think about was you.

How he wished he could watch you grow. You were only seven and ten. To young to die.

Before his eyes flashed all the times that you ran away from your septa and hid behind his legs.

The little infant wouldn't stop crying until she was in his arms.

The little toddler first took her steps only to hug her father as he picked her up.

His little y/n. The one who died because of his one mistake.

His eyes were getting blurry and all he saw before he fell in the water was your face, the same face from his dream. Crying. Stitching his grandson's head.

He clutched your necklace tight in his arms as tears gathered in his eyes. His eyes were shut tight. And as he cried...

He repeatedly heard you cry and say

"Was I truly that Bad.............kepã?"

-Lillian

[rubyvhs]

nightmare [dean winchester]

pairing; dean w x fem! reader summary; you go on a hunt with the brothers but when it goes to shit, dean can’t help being overprotective. tags; angst, stitching yourself, alcoholic dean, some you and sam in there cause he's the cutest baby, your dad died.

“fuck! sam, quick, get the girls.” dean runs into the impala forcing the engine to roar to life and flashes his lights at the highest setting for the vampires, burning their eyes as the other four get into it and he drives off.

it's quite for the first five minutes, except for the heavy breathing. the two girls that the trio rescued are sleeping peacefully, though you think it's anything but peaceful. their faces aren't relaxed, instead covered in blood and frowning, but their breaths have slowed, at least.

five minutes. that's all it takes before the tension is broken with a, “let me drive, dean.” the older winchester lets out an exaggerated airy laugh for all of two seconds before putting on a straight face and telling him no. “you're hurt, you can hardly keep your eyes open, let me drive, either of us.”

sam is right, dean is hurt way more than both of you combined, he fought off most of the vampires on his own while you took the girls and ran, but he was mostly hurt because he hadn't expected it.

your plan was to get the girls and dip then come back in the morning to wipe them out in their sleep, but you had woken one of them up with the loudest noise you've ever made when one of the girls stabbed you in the stomach with some glass she’d found on the floor. 

again, taken by surprise. obviously the girls thought you were one of the vampires. 

“shut up. it's only a ten minute drive to the nearest hospital.”

“we're going to a hospital?” you don't usually hunt with sam and dean, opting to stay in the motels and do some research, maybe figure out a better plan, but you've never seen them go to the hospital for their injuries, they'd always come home to you bleeding out on the floor.

“for you and the girls, yes.”

“what about you and sam?”

“it's fine.” that shut you up, his strict tone, and stare in the rear view mirror made you slide down in your seat.

ten minutes later you’ve reached 'northwest tawara horspital' and sam is helping the girls out of the impala. dean, while a wanted fugitive, does the same with you. 

but you refuse. “i won't go inside if you two aren't.”

“what?” he moves a little too quickly and holds his side as he winces. god, that can't be comfortable. 

“i won't go inside, we're just wasting time,” sam comes back and stands in the drivers side to talk to you, door open. “see? sam's back, let's get home quickly so we can fix you both up, and me.”

“no, you're going in.” sam was the one to insist this time but you just shake your head and stay planted into your seat. through the corner of your eye you can see both men discussing what to do then they get back in the car with a sigh.

on the drive home it’s mostly silent until you feel your eyes flutter closed. just a few seconds of sleep— but dean’s loud shout of your name wakes you up, “don't close your eyes, we need to fix you up first.” you nod and straighten up, “and what you did back there? fuckin’ reckless, don't pull that shit again. when we tell you to do something, you do it. or you don't come on hunts with us.”

“what the hell? i was the one who decided i didn't want to come with hunts on you guys, you can't take away my choice.”

“like hell i can't!” he isn't looking at you through the mirror, instead focusing on the road because you're on a busy one, but you can still feel his eyes burning into yours. it makes you shrink down in your seat. you hate how much his words affect you, and how visible it is too. 

sam has has never yelled at you really, but even if he had it wouldn't have done much damage, he's too soft for that. dean though... he scares you sometimes, not that he'd hurt you or kick you out, just that he'd be disappointed in you, maybe give you the silent treatment. you don't want that, but you also hate being barked orders at.

“you can't, dean.” sam says to his brother, slapping his shoulder once to ground him back, and it seems to have worked. because you’re not a bad hunter— if anything, you have their back most of the time, you aren’t clumsy or unreliable and what happened had been a mistake that any other hunter would have made. this isn’t about hunting. this is about dean being too controlling.

you thought it was over now that you're at the motel but when he parks baby, he looks back at you, “i can, and i fucking will. you can't act like a child and expect us to let you come on the hunts. you listen to whatever the fuck we tell you to do.” your lips part in surprise, thinking of how to respond, but he doesn't even give you the chance and gets out, slamming the door behind him. 

you don't look at sam as you close baby's door and start walking to the motel. sam catches up and tells you to wait and because you don't have it in you to be yelled at anymore, you turn back and face him.

he says your name, low and soft, “that wasn't an order,” 

shut up before i cry “hey,” he hugs you, your head on his chest and you just let it all out. god, you feel so stupid. you can't believe you were so unprepared and you caused them all this damage. if you had just been in defense mode you would've never screamed, you've been through worst and kept quite. and though you know it’s a little irrational, you can’t help but blame yourself for not being quiet.

“hey, he's just worried about you, he means well, you know that.” you let go slightly and he kisses your forehead, telling you to go into their room and that he'll be in yours to get cleaned up. 

+

walking into the room of the man who just basically called you a two year old is nerve-wrecking. you don't want to be screamed at and god knows you don't want to be treated like a child again. every time you think you’re getting through to dean, or that you’re becoming closer, something happens and he reminds you you’re still young, naive, and only with them because your dad had told them to.

your father is— was a hunter, he used to hunt with john sometimes, and when he heard about the apocalypse that's soon to be here and all the angels that seem to stride onto earth, he wanted to tie up loose ends, so he asked the winchesters to keep you with them until further notice.

then he never came back. but all of this is something you’ve dealt with ages ago. years even. but this? dean pushing you away all the time? acting like you’re some burden? that, you can’t get over.

“hey,” you hear his voice and turn around, not even having seen him walking towards the bathroom. “how you holding up?”

it’s a stupid attempt to make amends, but it works. the second he says anything, it works. it always does.

“fine.” you mumble and notice he’s finishing supplies to stitch himself up. ouch. you know the boys prefer to do it themselves than help the other out but you’ve always found they need a gentler hand. 

you walk towards him and hold his hand in place to stop his movements, taking the needle from him. he doesn't complain, just drowns the bottle of whiskey. with one hand, the other holding his shirt up. 

when it’s done you hold my hand out for the bottle and he scoffs, as if wasting his alcohol hurts him more than the wound that just got stitched up. he hands it over reluctantly.

you pull down his shirt and decide it’s better if you take a swig too. “does it hurt?” the questions rolls off easily, no matter how angry you are at him. 

“i'll survive.” he shrugs like it's nothing. like the gash over most of his stomach is nothing.

“not what i asked.” dean half-heartedly glares at you but your expectant expression makes him think there isn’t a way out. and there isn’t.

“it's fine, my arm’s just sore.” you sit next to him on the bed, pushing his sleeve up and he hisses, muttering something under his breath and snatching the bottle from your hand to drown it. 

“dean...” it’s surreal. it knocks all the air out of your lungs. you’ve never seen the mark, the one an angel of the lord imprinted on dean’s shoulder, though sam talked about it a couple of times. you clear your throat before he notices the staring and point to the wound, “i think you need to stitch that one too, hand me another needle.”

he does and you get to work. it’s mostly noiseless but it feels like there's something heavy in the air, a confession. though it’s impossible to tell who’s supposed to make it.

“i'm sorry.” you try to hide the surprise on your face by looking down but he doesn't let you, hooking his fingers under your chin and he makes you look up at him. “i was so worried about you.” he lets go, taking a breath in, “the way i felt when you screamed? damn it, i've never felt so scared before and i've been to hell,” he lets out a dry laugh and you smile a little. god he's so perfect.

“i don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart, never, so when i ask you to listen to me it isn't because i'm treating you like a child, i just wanna keep you safe.” there are more words on the tip of his tongue but he shuts up and it doesn’t nothing to help the growing smile on your face. it's more than you thought you’d ever get out of him.

you pour a more of the alcohol on his stitches and pull the sleeve down. “okay, you officially need a shower now, you're all booze and cologne. i need to clean this place up.”

“it's fine, sammy and i will do it.”

“not happening. go get cleaned up, i'll finish here.” you knew that what you’re doing is painfully obvious, but you hope he lets it go, just this once. 

of course he doesn't, instead pulling your shirt up to reveal the various cuts that don’t need stitches, just some treatment, and the stab wound you fixed in the car when they were both too busy sulking in the tension. you’ve gotten a lot better at handling pain since you’ve started with the winchesters.

“when did you do that?”

“doesn't matter, it's done. get in the shower dean, let me clean up and go to sleep.”

“damn it, just answer me when i ask something. when did you do this?”

“car.” you’re scared, tired and you don't want to fight. but he just apologized, for god’s sake, can’t he give it a rest.

you wait for his harsh blow. words that will knock you off my feet, anything really, but he just sighs, letting the shirt go and stands up. you do the same and he embraces you in a hug that you’re quick to reciprocate. so quick you’d already had your arms around his neck before he got his around your waist.

the whiskey burns your nose but it's nothing compared to how your body burns with you so close. “dean?”

“you're so strong, you know?” he takes a beat, a breath, “but that doesn't mean shit to me, i still wanna keep you safe all the time because god knows i don't deserve you but i'm too selfish to let you go.”

you pull away just to see his face. you need to know he means what he's saying. that you’re talking about the both of you in the way you’re thinking. the desperation to convey how he feels to you, it gives you all the confidence in the world to stand a little taller and finally kiss him.

you kiss dean winchester because for the first time in ages, someone cares, someone wants you safe. someone learned from their mistake and did better, someone is fucking perfect and it's dean. 

one of his hands is rough on your waist, the other on you cheek. his tongue, his cologne, it all makes you melt into him. 

then ten seconds later, way too deep into the kiss he pulls away slowly, shakes his head and groans, “why'd you do that.”

you step away him in panic. you were ready for rejection, sure. a small ‘i don't see you like that’, not this.

“i'm sorry, i didn't mean to—”

“no, no, hey,” he steps closer “i just... i don't wanna do this if it's gonna hurt you. i don't know how good i will be if we go down that road and you deserve something good.”

“you are dean,” he licks his bottom lip and it catches you attention, forcing you to bite on yours, “you're good. you're perfect.”

one thing i will not allow in my household is the winchester brothers being insecure that they're not enough (pov it’s all they do). anyways sooo this is for the jensen-a-thon for @artyandink so excited to have my first entry and there’s another one i’ve been working on for a week (hopefully i’m almost done with it). hope you enjoyed this!

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Crew Heads with Reader: Bro Code

G/N. Silly. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo).

Bro Code | Dinner | Shopping | Television | Gacha | Board Games | Suits

"What is that?"

You point at the red mark, the ring of teeth on his tattooed arm and Jake mutters something under his breath.

"What?"

"...Bite." He forces out.

"Courtesy of?" Your eyes flicker over to Eli, who has found a very interesting spot on the floor.

Really, it might be the most interesting thing he has ever seen. He wouldn't be able to remove his eyes from it for love nor money. Not even if Yenna shrieked, screamed, screeched in front of him

"No-one." Jake says, wordlessly agreeing with Eli that the ground is fascinating and staring resolutely at it too.

Because if there is one thing the Crew Heads agree on, it's bro code.

Fighting one another, beating each other up is one thing-

Sure, they might kill each other. Sure, some of them hate each other. It's nothing personal though. Just something they do.

...What real men do. Casual grievous bodily harm, accidental oopsy murder. You know how it goes.

But where you're concerned - snitches get stitches. And stitches from you, doesn’t bear thinking about.

Where you're concerned, the story could be they were all holding hands, skipping along the road, then simultaneously ate shit together. Falling over one by one like dominos.

It would be the utmost worst violation of bro code to tell on each other. Even if you're the one now cleaning up the aftermath.

Under silent oath, a pact formed with just one quick catch of the eye, they promised they would not tell. If you found out, if they confirmed - you would give them hell. A fate worse than death.

"And Johan, let me guess. You fell and gave yourself a blackeye." You arch an eyebrow in his direction.

Johan nods, lips pulled down in a pout and eyes (one fine, one bruised and swollen) narrowed at another spot at the floor. The appeal of the scuffed floorboards is contagious, three of the four Crew Heads gaze now firmly fixed on it.

"No brass knuckles involved?" You ask, and get a short shake of the head in response.

"Just like Samuel's back injury isn't from being thrown on the ground?"

Samuel's eyes dart over once to Jake, then he rearranges his face into a haughty, cold expression. As if that was a ridiculous suggestion and not the truth.

They were absolutely not fighting. They would absolutely not get caught.

"Of course not." He sneers, then pain flashes across his face as a short, sharp spasm shoots through his body.

You resist laughing and spitting out that that's karma for lying.

Instead, you sigh. Still have enough control to refrain from face palming.

Right.

Sure. 

However-

As if this all wasn’t obvious enough. Perhaps the most damning evidence of all, is the Converse print on Eli's right cheek.

You look pointedly at Johan's footwear. "And I suppose Eli has become an ambassador for Converse, if he's wearing their logo on his face?”

Eli, on impulse, tries for a nod before his brain catches up and realises how ridiculous that sounds.

You continue on, not missing Eli’s twitch. “It's got nothing to do with you lot fighting, and someone kicking someone in the head, hmm?"

Nervous glances are exchanged.

“Eli didn’t bite Jake? Samuel didn’t give Johan a black eye? Jake didn’t slam Samuel to the ground? Johan didn't give Eli a taste of his shoe?”

This entire conversation is futile. It's clear as day they were fighting. Even a blind, deaf and mute person would be able to tell.

Still.

Bro code.

"No," comes the chorus of voices, and you consider fatally maiming them all yourself.

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 3

Check out part 1 here.

Simon noticed first. Some of his pants, he only had five pairs he rotated between, had gone missing from the laundry. Not terribly unusual, things get mixed up all the time. But when they reappeared worn spots had been patched, his pockets had been fixed, and all the little annoying seams that didn’t lay flat had been tacked down.

Kyle put a hole in the armpit of his favorite shirt, it went missing the next day and reappeared better than before. Roach lost many of his hats to the laundry, but within a week they all reappeared, cleaner and fixed. It wasn’t until Johnny couldn’t find his favorite pair of pants, his lucky pants that he couldn’t take on a mission because they were missing, that they started to talk to each other about the matter.

John called them a bunch of muppets, rolled his eyes, and walked away when the conversation started up about their laundry going missing. First, they examined the schedule for any overlap of their clothes being put into the laundry and their clothes going missing. Nothing stands out, most of the people serving in the laundry are there on assignment and rotate out before clothes are returned.

With this avenue exhausted the guys sit around thinking, pondering.

“What if they aren’t getting picked up by the laundry?” Roach slowly voices his question, as if putting it together only as the words leave his mouth.

Simon picks up the thread next.

“Who has access to our rooms? Laundry obviously, but we have ruled them out. Who else?”

“Base commanders, cleaning staff, Price. I can’t think of anyone else,” Soap shifts, stretching the toe of his boot to sit against Ghost’s.

“Has anyone looked into where Price has been going when he is in late some mornings?” Gaz squints as he thinks.

“Now there’s a thought,” Ghost tilts his head to one side. “Question becomes, do we access his bank account or follow him?”

They all looked at him, waiting for his decision.

“Price guards his phone harder than nuclear codes, I vote we follow him,” Roach chimes in.

“Good point. Anyone have a requisitioned tracker we could tag him or his car with?” Ghost looks over each of his men.

Soap, and Roach both shake their heads. Gaz scrunches his nose and then sighs.

“I want it back when this is over. It was a hard one to get my hands on.”

Ghost nods, accepting the responsibility to get it back to him. They tagged Price’s car that same day. Waiting for any of their clothes to go missing they watched the tracker. Johnny got a tad impatient and ended up ripping off a belt loop off when it got caught on a door handle instead of walking back and getting unstuck. He made a big deal of it too.

“Christ on a cracker,” he growled at the annoyance. Johnny, being a smooth operator, made sure John saw it before he turned in for the night.

Sure enough, tomorrow night the pants were missing from the laundry. Johnny checked the laundry room for them before confirming to the guys that John had taken the bait. The tracker placed John near the manufacturing district in a designated parking lot, but nothing specific.

Johnny’s pants reappeared, clean, the next day with the regular laundry delivery. But they had a starting point. Roach scoured the internet for any business that might fix clothes but found nothing within walking distance. Must be an unlisted or newer business they figured. The following morning, they all skived off morning training that, while encouraged, was not mandatory.

Parking in the same lot that John had the guys split up. Each man took one side of the street and started down a direction eyes scouring each storefront and entrance until Ghost sent out a shrill whistle. Barely checking for cars the men darted for their L.T. who stood in front of a small shop squished between a cobbler and a bakery. The front window simply read ‘Seamstress’.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

You sang along to Disney music this morning. It seemed fitting, as you were stitching together a party dress for a small princess. Her birthday was coming, and she wanted a purple princess dress like Rapunzel but big like Cinderella. Gotta hand it to the kid, that made it easy to design with her dad. This would be the second version she stitched up. The first one fit, until kiddo woke up one morning an inch taller.

When the shop bell dinged you reached around your sewing machine to lower the volume of your music.

“One moment!” You called over the sound of the small engine working loudly. You remembered it was about time for a tune-up on the old thing.

The stitches completed you turn and stand. Four men of varying sizes and heights stand at your counter. Two of them are pretty, no other word for it, and the other two are covered up than some of your niqab-wearing customers.

“Hi, what can I help you with?”

One of the pretty ones, with a mohawk, spoke for the group.

“We were wondering if you could tell us what you do here.”

Leaning to one side you confirmed that your sign still clung to the window in paint. Standing straight again you cocked an eyebrow at the man.

“Pretty sure I’m a seamstress, window says so.”

The tall covered one snorts.

Mohawk sends a glare back at his companion.

“What does that mean? What do you do exactly?” The shorter covered one asks.

“Seamstresses typically create clothes, though I do a lot of repairs too. Why? Are any of you needing repairs done? I can work on suits however I would recommend you out to a local tailor for that, suits are something they specialize in.”

You weren’t nervous. They all had a deadly energy about them, but it wasn’t directed at you.

“How much for a kilt repair?” Mohawk asked, confirming the placement of the accent.

“That would depend on the damage and the cost of the cleaning. Any articles that stay with me overnight get sent to a dry cleaner, it’s built into the charge.”

Waking your tablet you pull up pricing.

“Restoration will run you more than run-of-the-mill repairs, but with the repairs, the kilt will be stored in acid-free paper to keep it from deteriorating.” Glancing up once again you find every pair of eyes on you.

You were starting to regret the lack of a panic button in your shop.

The other pretty one spoke up now.

“Can you tell us if a certain customer has been here? A John Price for example?”

“I am not in the habit of sharing my customer’s habits, no.”

Both pretty men lifted a brow.

“If I show you a picture, would you tell us if you’ve seen this man then, without confirming if he is a customer?” The tallest one asked.

“I think you should leave. Though feel free to call for a recommendation for a seamstress if you need any work done,” you give them your pretty, I’m a weak woman and don’t yell at me smile.

The breath between your words ending and their bodies moving drags into eternity. When their bodies edged through the door and down the sidewalk a way you flicked the lock shut on the front door.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

“You have one new message.” The robotic voice droned at John. “First new message: Hi John, this is the owner of Your Local Seamstress calling. I have your repairs completed, feel free to come and pick them up during business hours, six am to one pm or four pm to seven pm Tuesday through Saturday.”

A lingering pause, John can tell the message hasn’t ended.

“I did want to mention I had a…weird interaction today with a group of men looking for you. Two pretty men and two men covered tip to toe, asked for you by name. Not sure if you might know who they are but I figured I would pass along the information. Please feel free to give me a call if you have any questions.” She gave the shop number as if he didn’t have it memorized at this point.

“To replay this message press one, to delete press seven, to save press nine, for more options press six.” The robot is speaking to him again.

Slamming his thumb into the end call button John missed corded phones and the satisfaction of slamming the phone into the cradle. His muppets had scared his girl.

Part 2 | Part 4

Masterlist

[starofthesea7]

König~Worship the King

Your eyes traced the huge mass of muscle in front of you. Fresh from the field, he looked exhausted, primal- his canvas pants still splattered with mud and god knows what else. Arms shiny with sweat and rain, leg bouncing absentmindedly, his head was still a void, swimming with pictures of death and devastation. His eyes were focused on a bowl of stew, dwarfed by his huge, muscled hands. Pale fingers against white ceramic.

‘You can take the mask off to eat your food, I have to clean up your face anyway. In fact I should look at that first.” Your voice was soft, hesitant. Afraid of startling him, even though little could do so.

Dark fabric folded as he shook his head gently. “After. I don’t want it to…” he searched for the word in English, “to scare you. Yet” His voice was rough and tired, laced thickly with an accent, german. Your heart twinged at his words.

“You couldn’t scare me.” You attempted a reassuring smile. König. King. A very fitting name for the enigma in front of you, and yet in some ways not fitting at all. True he was imposing. Large. Stately. Yet he was gentle, anxious, even, when he was in close proximity to others. Under scrutiny. He was anxious when it came to people, most of all you. He was good at hiding it though, to you it seemed an aloofness, perhaps even a polite disinterest, that he felt towards you. A simple nod in greeting as he passed you was the most you could hope to receive.

Now you stood in between his enormous thighs which he’d spread just far enough apart to avoid grazing yours, the air between them thick with tension. You rolled up his dark sleeve, doing your best to ignore the rippling muscle beneath. They way it flexed which each ascent of his spoon, before it disappeared underneath black cloth, then reappeared, empty. He barely flinched as you dabbed an alcohol pad across the gaping wound on his shoulder. Blood glistened carmine.

Oxymoron was a more fitting name, you thought. Perhaps it was too long for a nickname. He truly was a paradox, though. So colossal, yet reserved. So immense yet quiet, even gentle. He was a man of few words. A wave waiting to crash, or a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your voice broke the silence, surprising you both. It felt small. “Feel okay?” He was nervous, although you couldn’t see it, underneath the mask. He wasn’t really afraid of you, more afraid of hurting you, or scaring you. With his weight. His scars, his is strength.

His eyes raised to meet yours. Although he was sitting, they were level with your own. A cold, pale olive green. “Ja. Thank you. I am sorry for waking you for this little scratch.” When you’d gotten a call that he’d needed a small patch job, admittedly you’d jumped at the chance to see him. You’d been drawn to the Austrian giant since you’d arrived a month ago. You liked his presence, it was safe, a shield to all else. Nothing could touch you with him there. No amount of horny jeering men, or loaded guns.

“It’s not a just scratch, König, its a big gash. And I haven’t even gotten to your face yet. Plus, I couldn’t sleep anyway, I’m happy to do it.” You rambled, feeling the burn of his eyes on yours, studying your face as you concentrated, threading a sterile needle. You stepped forward, into him, bumping his leg. He smelled like earth, and motor oil. Faintly of cigarettes and metallic blood. The heady odour was thick, collocating with the rubbing alcohol of your sterile office.

“Deep breath.” You felt silly, instructing a man who’d murdered countless men in the past week to do a breathing excersise, but he obeyed, the soft, raspy sound making your knees weak, and your imagination run wild. You blinked and regained focus, before puncturing the skin. His eyes fixed on your face, unwavering. You counted the stitches. Eleven, black and neat, in a row. “Aaand…done.” You cut the thread. “And not even a flinch.” You smiled at him, and his eyes crinkled, barely.

You gently rubbed it with ointment and wiped your hands on a towel, blood staining it crimson. You noticed his thighs now resting against yours. They were warm, and dirt from them stained your kaki pants but your hardly cared. “Ok. Ready for the mask?” You felt nervous, more nervous than he looked. It felt monumental, an enigma becoming real, smoke condensing into man.

You’d thought about what he looked like, but only in patches, certain features imagined while the rest of the picture was more of a blurred haze. Pale skin and light eyes. Dark or light hair? A sharp jaw or weak and soft? You couldn’t really imagine him being ugly, and truly, you felt you’d be attracted to him regardless, like opposite poles of a magnet. North and south. Dark and light, soft and hard.

He cleared his throat, and set the empty bowl down beside him. His eyes held yours vehemently, and large hands raised black cloth, revealing a pale, broad column of neck, a white scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your lips. His lips were split, bitten and red. And inviting. A glint of teeth and a jaw, sharp with a whisper of stubble. The cloth clung to a splatter of blood and small cuts now integrated with old scars, and a few pieces of shrapnel that traveled up to a deep, glistening slice. Caked blood ran down his temple. His nose was sharp and slightly crooked, veering to the right in an endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child.

Then, his eyes, deep set and soft, framed with long lashes and crowned with sharp brows, one interrupted by a large, aged scar. Finally, hair, light, light brown, almost blonde, with a tinge of red, tumbled out. It was tied back with an elastic, but not long, as if he was in need of a trim, shorter pieces falling across his forehead. His head tilted back as he looked at you, silently, daring you to react to his intimate sign of trust.

You breathed out. It wasn’t what you had expected. His face was, interesting. Attractive. Younger than you’d imagined. A sharp canine pressed into his lip. You let out a breath, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling it clench beneath your fingers, tilting his face up towards artificial light. His lips parted, adams apple bobbing. “You should’ve let me do your face first.”

“Sorry.” His voice was soft, ragged.

You reached for a pair of pointed tweezers and began removing each piece of shrapnel from his face. The night was quiet, save for for soft breaths. His was hot against your cheek. “König.” Chunks of metal and stone clanged into a small aluminum bowl. He hummed in response.

“You could never scare me.”

He smiled softly at you, slightly crooked.

Without meaning to, your thumb stroked the soft skin of his jaw. His legs tightened against you, barely, but your heart quickened against your ribcage.

Again, you soaked the wounds in alcohol. You could tell it stung. His fingers began absentmindedly drumming against your hip, leaving hot tingles in their wake. You moved to the cut on his lip, he hissed quietly as you made contact with the cotton pad. Your eyes were focused, pupils blown wide as you stared at his lips. His hot tongue peeking out from behind pink bloodied skin.

Your voice was quiet, distant, “You have a pretty bad split lip, I’m gonna put a little stitch in it.”

He swallowed hoarsely, “Okay.”

You were close, so close to him, breaths mingling in the hot air. His scent enveloped you. He enveloped you. You weren’t particularly small, but to him you were. Fragile. The needle ruptured his lip and his hand gripped at your waist, heavy and large. You leaned into him, lower stomach barely grazing the split of his pants. He shifted in thick canvas.

Your hand shifted, cupping his jaw as you cut the thread. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, and something else. You looked at each other with neediness, both in awe of how the other contained all that they could ever want- him to satiate your emptiness, you to soothe his aching burn. A month of passing glances and unsaid words threatened to morph into action; spurred on by the arousal of seclusion and stagnation after the high of adrenaline, the heady scent of blood, metal, alcohol.

You leaned in and felt his hand tighten against you hip, You were inches from him, the air between you buzzed as opposites attracted, pulled you towards him. His mouth widened as he leaned into you. Your soft, plush lips grazed his, barely, and he pulled you into him, emitting a soft sound. Mouths opened wide with need. He was metal, cigarettes and gasoline, the taste and smell making you unsteady, faint. You gripped his shirt tightly, his mass keeping you from falling, or perhaps from floating away.

Deft, strong fingers found the back of your head. Scalp prickling as he pulled at your hair. You were slick.

He groaned slightly into your mouth, and your hands found his hair, fisting it free from the elastic band, copper locks brushing your forehead, stubble brash against your reddening cheeks.

His large warm hand traced from your hip down, raising your leg to straddle his thigh. Hot, hard muscle against your softness. You let out an involuntary airy moan as the seam of your jeans jabbed into your clit, cunt clenching around nothing, deprived and empty.

You lifted your other leg to straddle him fully, clothed cunt contracting at the friction against pelvis, you could feel him, large, hard, heavy and confined. It made you hot with need. You pulled back to stare at him, pupils blown, lips puffy. His hips bucked up into you, searching for friction and release, his brows furrowed. Colossal hands found your waist beneath your shirt, opposite fingers almost touching around your circumference. His fingers were calloused and rough. Feeling his hot skin against yours made you reel with thoughts of at the way he dwarfed you, dominated you with the simplest of actions. The fact that he could fill your emptiness, stretch you to the brink, overwhelm you, crush you- was inebriating.

“I-” he searched for the right words, “I want you. Ich brauche dich.” You smiled at his mother tongue appearing, as it often did in states of intoxication.

You pressed your mouth to his neck, with an open mouthed kiss, feeling the bump of his scar as he swallowed, and looked up at him through wet lashes. Grinding your hips against him, making him groan, cock twitching, hyper sensitive from months of neglect. You maundered, “Let me make you feel good, König.” Your voice was airy and laced with fervour. His eyes were glassy and lidded as he looked down at you, hair falling across his forehead, glistening with sweat. His head swam, the situation feeling far to good to be true, an intoxicated dream or adrenaline spurred hallucination. His blunt fingernails clutched at your waist harshly, leaving half moons in their wake.

Your eyes flickered to a stain of precum darkening the crotch of his thick pants as you rose to your feet, his hands gripped his thighs in restraint, watching you in anticipation. Then, you knelt to the ground to worship your king.

[mrsparrasblog]

Birthday Girl

Plus size Reader x tf141

Is it my Birthday? Yes , did I Imagine four men making me a Special surprise? Yes.

Will the Reader love the surprise? Yes!

The same procedure as every year, you thought, spending your birthday crying. You weren’t sure what it would be this time. Last year, your boyfriend cheated on you; the year before that, everyone forgot your birthday; and the time before that, a family member died. It's like a curse.

This time, you had your vacation planned for the week of your birthday, visiting your family as always. Visiting your family has been harder these days since you accepted a military contract, working as a nurse on base.

Your parents told you all over again how this would be a bad idea; the military wasn’t a place for women like you: soft, sweet, and innocent. But they were wrong. You never felt better than after joining the military. The nurses on base were so nice to you. You had many girls' nights with them, spending the whole day laughing and chatting. And then there were the soldiers. Four specific soldiers.

Kyle: Kyle was the most handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. His face was literally perfection as if the gods themselves sculpted it just for you to admire. He was nice and polite, never screaming at you, even when you stitched him up. He just sat there and smiled. He was your favorite patient, especially since he always brought you something small back from his deployment, mostly sand. So you had a collection of different sands from a variety of countries you'll never visit in your life. He was the first you crushed on. It was easy to fall for him, but hard to have these feelings. Guys like him weren’t made for you; at least you thought so.

Price: The captain was hardly in the infirmary, even when you could see he needed it the most. His knees and back were completely wasted, and he needed them fixed, but he had so much to do, never taking the time to care for himself. You knew from the gossip among the nurses that the captain had a thing for curvier women, admiring the softness in them. You knew how his eyes lingered on your soft, wide hips or your ass. His fingers always twitched, trying to touch you, but both of you couldn’t. "I'm a captain, lovely. If I weren’t, I would have already put a ring on you," he said one day after drinking a bit too much of his whiskey. But you couldn’t have him anyway. How would you explain that your heart ached for four different men?

Soap: He spent every moment he wasn’t on a mission in the gym or eating at the infirmary, coming to you even with the slightest scratch. You fixed him all the time, gushing over his exposed form. He had the most muscles out of everyone. His biceps could crush you in a second, and god, how you loved it. He was a flirt, always calling you Bonnie or Hen in front of everyone. He probably did this with every female on base. Attractive young guy, why should he be interested in you and not some skinny, pretty girl?

Ghost: Falling in love with Ghost wasn’t something you would have thought of ever happening. When you started, he scared the shit out of you with the mask, his looming glance, and the fact that he was built like a brick house. He never came to the infirmary. Well, he wasn’t hurt like the others, but still. At first, he always side-eyed you for your bubbly personality, but it changed quickly. You knew exactly when you fell in love with him. It was the day a rookie pushed you against a wall, trying to have his way with you. It wasn’t like you were a damsel in distress; you were strong and capable; he was just stronger. Ghost saved you that day and many more. He gave you his number, so you’d call him if anything was wrong.

So why were you hesitating to call him right now? You finally dialed the number you knew by heart.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Just a bad day. Can you maybe pick me up? I’ll pay you the gas money," you sobbed.

"20 minutes, no gas money."

He was there at 15, arriving with his bike. You didn’t know he had a bike, but god, it looked good on him with the helmet. It only added to his bad-boy image, which you desperately loved.

He walked towards you, his arms pulling you into a bear hug, and you started to cry, something unusual for him. He wasn’t someone who comforted people in such weakness, but it was okay with you.

"What's wrong, birthday girl?" He knew he remembered your birthday.

"You remember my birthday," you said, removing your hand from his chest, leaving wet stains on his shirt, and looking up at him with your red and puffy eyes.

"Of course, love. Now, tell me what's wrong."

"It's childish."

"Don't care."

"Mom commented the whole day on my weight, telling me to finally lose it or else I'd never find a boyfriend and die as a spinster with seven cats. Dad didn’t even bother to congratulate me, and when my ex-boyfriend appeared with my sister, I lost it."

"Your mom talks bullshit. Some men like their women with a bit more meat on their bones. I do," he admitted while wiping your tears away with his thumb.

"You do?" You asked curiously. You knew Price did, but Ghost too?

"Mhm. Every big boy needs his big girl," he said, making you blush and squirm.

"Can you drive me back to the base?"

"Of course, love. Me and the boys have a surprise for you anyway."

He pulled you onto his bike, placing the helmet on top of your head, destroying your neatly made hair. And so, this was your first bike ride, holding onto him for dear life. Your breasts pressed against his back while you hugged him so you wouldn’t fall. His broad back and shoulders made you feel things. He was indeed a big boy in need of his big girl—in need of you.

After a bumpy ride, he carried you off the motorcycle with ease. He acted like you weighed nothing, and he could carry you for hours.

"So, what's the surprise?"

"Patience, love."

He led you into his and Soap's barracks. You were shaking, desperate to know what would happen. Inside were all four men you desperately wanted for weeks. In front of them was a birthday cake, which was, to be honest, kind of ugly but homemade. They made a cake for you. You couldn’t believe it.

"Aye, Lt. brought you back safely to us. Happy Birthday, Hen."

"Happy Birthday, babe," Kyle said, his beautiful eyes glistering at you. God, he was too pretty for his own good.

"Happy Birthday, Dove," the captain said, removing his fisherman hat and smiling at you.

"You all remembered?" You asked in disbelief.

"Of course, dove. Now we know that you took a liking to all of us, didn’t you?"

You nodded shyly, getting red. How could you be so stupid and fall for four guys at the same time?

"All these weeks we fought about you, and you wanted all of us?" Kyle laughed.

"You fought over me?"

"Don’t act surprised, love. You know that we all wanted you."

You shook your head, and the guys started to laugh. „Hen, do you think I'll go to that bloody hospital for a scar?“.

You could have imagined Price and Ghost like you, but Kyle and Soap too? You slowly sat down on the bed, looking up at the four tall men.

„Mhm, do you want your present now?“ The captain asked you while tucking a strain of your hair behind your ear.

„Depends on whether I like the present.“

„You will love it.“ So you agreed, curious, when Kyle walked towards you just a few inches away from your face, finally kissing you, making you moan desperately while the other boys watched you with a smug smile on their incredibly handsome faces. You noticed the bulges in their pants, and your mind slowly had an idea of what they wanted from you.

„Are you hard?“ You asked as if you weren’t a medical professional.

All four men chuckled at your dumb question: „Now, no need to be shy with us." Soap said, taking a step closer to you and Kyle. His erection was thick and big, not very well hidden beneath the fabric of his washed-out jeans.

They slowly started to remove their pants one by one, leaving them only with their boxers, and God were they hot. You glanced at four six-packs; each body was still different; Soap was bulky and muscular; and Ghost's body was full of scars, making him look even hotter than you thought was possible. Gaz looked like a Calvin Klein model; everything about him was pure perfection, and Price looked like a ducking bear, hairy, strong, and able to scoop you up without a doubt.

Gaz reached over and began to undo the buttons on your shirt, revealing more of your body beneath. His eyes roamed hungrily over your curves as he whispered softly in your ear. "There's no need to be insecure with us. We fucking love your curves.“

„So soft for us, dove." Price said you looked so different than them, soft and innocent, while they were painted for the war crimes they committed.

The men let out a soft murmur of appreciation as they took in your beautifully curvy body. Price stepped forward, his hands skimming over your smooth skin and tracing intricate patterns on your back and legs. "You really are exquisite, aren't you?

„You think so?“

The men exchanged glances, their eyes sparkling with desire.

"Absolutely," Soap assured you, his powerful arms wrapping around your waist. His erection was now fully exposed, pressing against your leg.

"You're breathtaking.“

„God, you’re big,“ and his cock was thick and deliciously veiny.

Ghost smirked at your words as he moved closer to you. His massive cock, way bigger than Soap's or any you've ever seen in your life, brushed against your stomach. "You like big boys, don't you?" he asked teasingly. Which horse was that? You knew it would be big by the way he walked; he just walked like it was big, but that's massive.

"Every Big girl needs her Big Boys"

The men burst out laughing at your words. Price pulled you closer to him, running his hand through your long hair. "You're one hell of a woman," he said admiringly. "You've got the body of a goddess and the mouth of a devil.“

The four men shared another glance before stepping back into sync. They formed a circle around you, creating an intimidating presence. "Now then," Price said slowly, his voice dropping to a low growl that vibrated through your body. "Are you ready for your gift, birthday girl?“

You only nodded in agreement.

With one accord, the four men moved in towards you, their massive erections bobbing and weaving as they approached. "Tonight," Price began, his voice thick with desire, "we're going to give you the best birthday present you've ever had.“

"I don't know if it beats the doll I got when I was six,“ you attempted to pull a joke.

Gaz, Soap, and Ghost all began to touch you in various ways, their hands roaming over your body as Price started to tease your hardened nipple through your bra. "Oh, trust us," Ghost whispered huskily in your ear. "This is going to be an unforgettable birthday.“

Price unclasped your bra and pulled it off, revealing your big breasts. He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard while his hand groped your other breast, making you already a moaning mess.

Gaz, Soap, and Ghost continued to touch you, their hands moving down to your hips as they pushed your panties aside. "Spread your legs for us," Ghost commanded. And so you did; you were a good nurse, always listening to her lieutenant.

The man's eyes widened at the sight of your soaking wet pussy. They wasted no time in moving in closer, their cocks throbbing with need. "You're dripping for us," Price commented, his voice laced with lust.

„No, I don't.“

Gaz ran his tongue along the inside of your thigh, making his way towards your soaked pussy. "I think you are," he murmured as he began to lap at your folds. "Mhm, so delicious, Captain. Want a taste?“

And Price nodded, letting his thick tongue glide into Kyle's pretty mouth, both sharing the delicious taste of your juices. He pushed Kyle into the soft cushions with his strength, and by the way, Kyle reacted, you knew this wasn’t the first time both of them got intimate with each other.

Price lifted you up effortlessly, positioning your pussy over Gaz's mouth. "Take her, pretty boy," he said with a smirk.

You tried not to put your full weight on his pretty face, much to the annoyance of the boys. „When we say sit on his face, we mean it; suffocate him with your cunt; he doesn’t mind,“ Ghost said, and Kyle only nodded.

„Garrick would be delighted to die between your thick thighs, hen." Soap laughed darkly while slowly stroking his massive, veiny cock.

Kyle reached up to hold onto your hips, keeping you steady as he took more of your weight. His tongue dove deeper into your wet pussy, exploring every inch of your folds. Meanwhile, Price watched intently, his cock twitching with anticipation. The combination of Gaz's skilled tongue and Price and Soap's attentive nipple-sucking sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't help but grind down on Gaz's face, feeling the heat from his tongue against your sensitive skin.

Gaz knew exactly what you needed and continued his assault on your sensitive folds. As he lapped up your juices, he began to increase the speed and intensity of his tongue movements. His hands roamed up your thighs, seeking out more of your wetness to consume.

With a devilish grin, Ghost moved towards you, his monster cock already leaking pre-cum. He stroked it slowly, watching your reactions as he brought it closer to your mouth. You opened wide, eagerly accepting the thick, throbbing shaft into your warm mouth, moaning as you tasted his salty precum. „Such a good cocksucker for us.“

As Ghost fucked your mouth with his cock, Gaz continued to feast on your pussy, relentlessly licking and sucking at every inch of your sensitive flesh. Meanwhile, Soap gently massaged your ass cheeks, teasing you with his touch. “You recruited such a pretty soft girl for us, Cap.“

The men could sense your impending climax and redoubled their efforts. Ghost thrust deeper into your mouth, his hips slamming against your face as he filled it with his thick cock. His pubic blonde hair tickled against your nose, making you roll your eyes in pleasure.

Gaz sucked harder on your clit, determined to make you cum all over him.

„Oh god, Kyle“

„Making such pretty nice sounds for us, dove“

As your orgasm washed over you, Gaz didn't pull back; instead, he drank in every drop of your juices. He lapped at your pussy eagerly, making sure not a single drop went to waste.

With a smile, Gaz pulled back, his face glistening with your sticky love. He placed you against the bed again, still shaking from what happened.

Soap quickly kneeled next to you, his hard cock pressing against your wet pussy. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, "Your turn to ride, darling.

"Mhm, too heavy to ride your soap.“

„You're not even half my warm-up weight, hen." Soap scoffed, being mad that you thought he was such a weakling as if he couldn’t carry you through the whole world without breaking a sweat.

„Make her ready for me, Johnny.“ Ghost eyes darkened.

„Aye, Lt, going to stretch her out for you.“

Soap moaned loudly as you rode him hard, your fat ass bouncing against his balls. He grabbed onto your hips, guiding you up and down his thick cock. Price and Ghost watched in awe, their own arousal growing with each of your movements.

„Change position, Sergeant; I want her to take care of all of us." Price commanded, and of course, like the good boy Johnny, he listened.

Soap picked you up effortlessly, your body wrapping around his cock as he laid you down on the ground. He continued to pound into you, his hips slamming against yours as you stroked Price and Ghost's hard cocks in unison.

"Fuck me harder," you moaned as he pounded into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

Soap smiled devilishly as he obeyed your command, thrusting deeper and faster into your wet pussy."Cum for me, baby," Soap panted between thrusts as he felt your walls clenching around him. He couldn't wait to empty his balls inside of you while watching Price and Ghost cum all over your beautiful face.

„Hen, you’re killing me with that thighs little cunt." Soap growled as he finally let go, unleashing his hot cum deep inside of you. You could feel his muscles tense and release as he shot rope after rope of semen into your wet pussy, filling you up completely. You were now lying on the bed like a painting, and the boys were the artists drawing their semen on your face and your gummy walls.

Gaz immediately took his place, positioning himself at your entrance. "Come on, babe, you can take me," he said as he lined up his incredibly long cock with your dripping pussy.

He thrust into you slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being engulfed by your needy hole.

„Need her again, Lt.“ Soap whined, missing your wet heaven again.

„Such a needy, but get on your knees and spread your ass for me, Johnny." Ghost barked at Soap

Price smirked as he watched Soap's ass cheeks spread for Ghost, anticipation building within him. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard on it as he continued to lick and tease the other one. Making you lose up the tension from Kyle's dick hitting places in your pussy you didn’t even know you had. Ge laughed at the bulge forming in your belly; he was just too damn long.

With a devilish grin, Price reached down and rubbed your clit, adding to the chaotic mix of sensations overwhelming you. „She's handling us quite well, isn’t she?“ he teased.

„Yes, Captain,“ the boys said in unison.

Gaz moaned loudly as he thrust into you, his hips slamming against yours in a relentless rhythm. He reached down to play with your other nipple, pinching and pulling it roughly while Price continued to rub your clit."Cum for us, babe," Gaz grunted as he felt your walls clenching around him.

He increased his pace, driving deeper and harder into you as Price's fingers worked their magic on your sensitive nub.

Your body shook with the force of your orgasm as you cried out in pleasure. Gaz held you tightly, his cock throbbing inside you as he felt you milking him dry. "Fuck, babe, I love you; you’re addicting.“

He erupted his hot stick seed in your willing womb, painting you once again white from the inside and marking you as theirs.

„That's it, dove," Price praised, his tone low and rough with satisfaction. Ghost leaned down to kiss you gently on the lips, still tasting himself in your mouth. "You were incredible. Best lay we ever had," Gaz groaned out in agreement, still buried deep inside you.

"Mhm, good birthday gift.“

Price laughed softly as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "It will be hard to top this next year," he teased.

Gaz withdrew from you, his soft but still long cock slipping out of your pussy with a gentle pop.

"I feel empty,“ you complained to them, not wanting this to stop.

„Let’s get you cleaned up," Ghost suggested, reaching for some tissues on the nightstand. He wiped away the excess cum from your breasts and belly, leaving you feeling satisfied yet wanting more.

„You know we love you, dove,“ Price whispered as he snuggled against you, pulling you in one of his big bear hugs.

„All of you?“

„Yes,“ Ghost commented to your surprise.

„I love you too, all of you.“

[fictionismyreality3]

Hi first off just wanted to say I absolutely love your work! But please remember to take care of yourself and have plenty of water and Food and please remember to take breaks 🫶

Anyways I was wondering if I could req a fic where Jason finds out his s/o is an Ex-Criminal who's trying really hard not to fall back into old habits but is struggling because these guys keep harrasing them to become a criminal again

Mm just gonna take this :D -🎧

Better off Before You

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: boyfriend!jason todd, ex-criminal!reader, established relationship, kinda controlling!jason todd idk, angst but it gets resolved at the end

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, violence, crime, drugs, weapons like knives and guns, arson, sexual assault 🤨

Notes: I gagged writing this 😩 sorry to all the Jefferey’s out there I just think Jeff is a creepy name. Kinda put a spin on the req hope that’s okay ☺️

34 stitches, 18 hours, and 1 bullet.

That’s what you’d scarified to get the life you had now. You’d done your time, and spent the hours necessary to detach yourself from your previous life and associates.

You had a lot to be grateful for and you knew that. It wasn’t like you were waking up everyday selfishly forgetting where you came from. That seemed impossible with the way the bullet was still lodged under the skin of your hip. But you were happy. You had a good life now and you were happy.

When you met Jay, you used to go by a different name, and when you thought about it, you were really a different person. But he pushed you. He wasn’t like those other self righteous hero’s you so often found yourself running from. He told it like it was, and he didn’t care if he hurt your feelings when he spoke. And back then, that’s something you needed desperately.

“You look like shit.”

Rolling your eyes, you wiped your lips, spitting the blood that had pooled in your mouth onto the gum covered pavement.

“You’re not exactly looking your best either, Red.” You drawled, eying the tall form of Jason Todd as he stalked down the alley towards you. “Yeah, well, it’s been one of those days.” He shrugged.

“Cortez?” Jason threw out there as he tucked his pistols away and got ready for a fist fight.

“No, Romero this time. You know what the buyers are like.”

Rain fell around you as you struck Jason in the stomach, his body expertly maneuvering to the side so he could grab your leg when you tried to throw a kick at him. Soon you were on your back, hitting at the inside of his elbow to push him off you. A well timed bite to shoulder and kick in the nuts let you escape.

That was 2 years ago.

Some days you almost wished you’d lost that fight, it would have made getting out from under your bosses thumb a lot easier had you been thrown in jail. You ended up having to do it the hard way. First breaking things off with Cortez, he was a squealer, especially when you pulled a few fingernails to reinforce he wouldn’t come after you.

Romero was harder. The man had a good few hundred men and women working for him. He practically ran the entire drug scene on the east end of Gotham. You used to be one of his best. It was a slightly demeaning work, being the person whose sole job was to ensure rich, high society people got their pill fix for the week, but it payed well. The only way you managed to get out was by knocking off his men one by one till you got to the top.

To him.

But Jay helped you, and you did it, even if it did leaving you with a permanent reminder in the flesh of your hip. There was no immediate way for Romero build back his little empire, and you allowed yourself to relax over the years, even getting to the point where Jason and you would run missions for Bruce.

Which is why this had to be a one time thing.

“Eh, c’mon pretty. Let’s not keep the boss waiting.”

How you found yourself back on the radar of the man you were trying so hard to distance yourself from seemed to be a sick joke from the universe. All it took was one wrong decision and you’d slipped right back into your old life like you’d never left. It wasn’t that you wanted to, but at this point, you didn’t have a choice.

You were sloppy. Normally you made sure to never take any jobs related to the underground drug rings so as to avoid spotted. But you didn’t do your research, and one bust got you noticed by one of Romero’s men who got away. That was all it took for him to go ratting back to his boss, who now held a massive grudge against you for how long it took him to regain power.

You fought hard when they found you again. The skin of your attackers still sat underneath your fingernails.

But you weren’t a super, you didn’t have powers or years of extreme training like Jay. You were just a girl who grew up on the wrong side of town, and chloroform wasn’t exactly easily avoided.

Scanning your surroundings, you tried to memorize the route of winding hallways you were being dragged through. The smell of gasoline and booze hung in the air, making your nose scrunch in disgust. Being pushed through a set of heavy metal doors, you found yourself face to face with the beady eyes of Jefferey Romero.

“You know, I’ve thought a lot about what I would say,” he began, standing up from the crusty folding chair he was sitting in. “When I saw you again.” Two men came and held your arms behind your back, their grip tight despite your struggling. “But all I can think about is how pathetic you look.”

One grubby hand reached up to clutch your chin, his fingers digging into your skin while he surveyed your face. The other reached down and squeezed at your ass.

“Fuck you.” You spat.

Driving your knee up, you kicked him as hard as you could in the dick, relishing the whiny noise of pain he made as he fell to his knees. Deciding to use the opportunity, you spat on him, but by then more of his men came to hold you still.

“You’re just as feisty as I remember too.” He coughed and brushed himself off. Getting back up, with a slight limp he came to stand in front of you. “You cost me a lot of money, you know.” Romero licked his lips. “It took me years to get it back.” He thread his fingers through your hair, yanking your head harshly to the side. “That’s why you’re gonna do me a little favour, bitch.”

You scoffed, wanting nothing more than to wrap your hands around his neck and choke him to death. “I’m not doing jack shit for you.” Romero let out a sneering laugh.

“Oh, but you will. Because I have this.”

As he held out his hand, your eyes darted down to the little enamel pin resting in his palm.

Your tongue was heavy in your mouth.

“What do you need?”

Jason wasn’t a great boyfriend when it came to his protectiveness. Knowing the life you’d came from, and how you two literally met when you were running from the cops, he was constantly worried about keeping you safe. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, he just wanted you to have the life you deserved.

Because he knew you deserved so much.

Fiddling with the string of his hoodie, he tried to stay focused on whatever random ass tv show was on. Pressing the material to his nose, he took a deep breath. Your perfume filled his lungs and he felt dizzy and relieved at the same time. It had only been a few hours since you left to go get some groceries, but the time away was killing him.

Clingy was a word he liked to pretend didn’t exist, but with the way you’d been acting for the last few weeks, he was getting more and more reluctant to let you out of his sight. Bruises that you’d brush off as you being clumsy, scrapes lining your knees, even the way your eyes were seemingly darting around to look for a threat that wasn’t there. All of it was beginning to leave a sour taste in Jason’s mouth.

Normally, he would never do anything to invade your privacy, but the nagging feeling in the back of his head wouldn’t let him drop it. Rustling through drawer after drawer, Jason searched from the objects that would confirm his suspicions. Cursing under his breath, he mumbled a few prayers that this wasn’t what he thought it was as he moved to your half of the closet.

Pushing the clothes to the side, his eyes got stuck on the red dress he’d bought you, and he had to clench his fists from punching the wall when he saw what was lying in the shoebox behind it.

Your knives.

The same knives he’d taken from you when you first started to change the way you were living. The same knives he’d hidden from you to help you transition. The same knives that were sitting there, clearly having been recently polish, laughing at him as they glinted in the light. The sound of the front door ripped him from his stupor.

“Hey, Jay. I got those chips you like-” Your words died on your tongue as you came face to face with a very angry Jason Todd, standing in the living room, holding a reminder of your past.

“What the fuck is this, huh?” He ground out, holding knives out with a shaking hand. “I promise, it’s not what it looks like.” You began quickly. Letting out a huff of tightly contained anger, Jason stormed up to you, grabbing you by the wrists and sending your shopping bags to the floor.

“Not what it looks like?” He scoffed. “No, I-”

“Because to me, it sure fucking looks like you’re working again.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared up into the now swirling blue-green eyes of the one man who never left. “You don’t understand.” You tried to plead. Throwing the knives to the floor, Jason backed you up against the front door, his hands caging you against the wood. “I don’t understand?” He hissed. “I risked my ass when I asked Bruce to cover your bail.”

The pressure of your rapidly beating heart was barely being held in by your ribcage. “Jay, you can’t understand.”

Jason swore he felt a tooth crack with how hard he was clenching his jaw. There hadn’t been a lot of instances where he’d felt truly hurt in his life, not before you. He always kept himself too closed off for that. But now? Now the small sliver of worth you had given him felt like it was being doused in salt and vodka.

“Then make me understand, baby.” Jay pleaded. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.” He hated the way his voice cracked.

All at once you were overcome with the urge to tell him everything, to fall into his arms and cry to him about how Romero had found where your sister went to university, and how you might not have talked to her in years but you still couldn’t let her die.

But your mouth didn’t open.

And Jason could only drop his hands to his sides and take a step back from you.

“Where the fuck having you been goin’ for the last 3 weeks?” He said disbelieving. “I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Wiping the tear you didn’t realize was forming, took a deep breath and steeled yourself.

“I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

All his years of experience, the instincts and reaction times he’d had trained into him, seemed to vanish as he watched you turn on your heel and leave. Standing frozen for a moment, Jason stared at the handle of the door, as if his gaze would somehow cause it to turn and you to come back.

“Fuck.” He snarled, whipping around to leave a fist sized hole in the wall.

One more job.

One more job and then this would all be over.

That’s what you kept telling yourself. The words got repeated over and over again in your mind as you stepped out into the streets of Gotham and began walking towards where you were stashing your things. The words echoed into the foggy air as you mumbled to yourself, changing into your district clothes and heading to the target Romero sent you.

They acted as a sort of prayer to who ever was listening. A plea, for all of this mess to somehow how straighten itself out, and for you to be forgiven as you hurled the bottle of alcohol and flames at the cargo truck you’d been ordered to destroy.

The fire danced across the surface of the truck until the whole thing burst into a ball of heat. You don’t know what was in it or why Romero wanted it gone, and you didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know. All you felt like doing was crumbling into the pavement and disappearing into one of the cities many potholes so you never had to show your face again.

It was nearly impossible for Jason to keep from destroying the apartment. Every item of furniture you’d picked out together sat like a reminder. He’d been the one to get you off the streets. He’d been the one to show you that there were people who cared about more than their next hit or how to get money. He’d been the one to help you get free.

And now he had failed you.

Jason sat on the couch, slumped forward with his head in his hands. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Really, everything was wrong, but something about the way you left felt odd. There was this look in your eye, the same one he saw the first time you’d met when he cornered you after the police slacked off at their jobs. A look of fear.

Not towards him. He could still remember it plain as day. It was more a look of dread, like you were worried about the consequences of getting caught and not the scary guy in the red mask who caught you. Like you were dreading someone finding out. Just thinking about it made his stomach churn. Although he was absolutely livid, he couldn’t stand seeing you in fear because he loved you.

He loved you.

“What the fuck am I doin’ just sitting here?”

When you got back to the seedy building near the docks, you were let in instantly by two of Romero’s men. The winding hallways of his new building had reluctantly become a familiar sight after spending the last 3 weeks running errands for him. But now your debt was paid, and you could get to tell Jay everything.

The same set of heavy metal doors that seemed to unlock a world you tried so desperately to forget opened once more, and you were once again standing in front of the man who used you. Putting out his cigarette, Jeffery Romero sauntered his way over to you.

“It’s done. The truck’s gone.” You spoke first. “I did my half of the bargain, so don’t you dare touch my sister.” With a thoughtful look that was clearly exaggerated, he looked you over, walking a circle around you. “I’ll admit, you weren’t as useless as I remembered.” The beady-eyed man snickered. Your hands were clenching, fingernails digging into your palms. “I might even take you back to work for me.”

“I’d never fucking work for you.”

His eyes narrowed, a dark smile curling across his lips. “That’s a shame,” He said nonchalantly. “Because you know too much now to be kept alive.”

As if waiting for their cue, the men who’d been leaning against the walls or playing poker and pretending not to listen pounced on you. Hands were tugging you in every which way, some tearing at your clothes as they shoved you to your knees. With a surge of adrenaline, you went down kicking and screaming, biting and pushing back against anyone who touched you. All the while Romero sat and watched, lighting another cigarette.

Glass shattered as the windows got kicked in. People were screaming. A gun went off. Again. And then again. And slowly, working through the shock, your mind caught up to process the image of Jason blowing the heads off of everyone around you, their brains splattering onto the walls and floor.

Letting out a practically feral noise, you lunged at Romero, shoving him to the ground and pounding your fists down into his face over and over again. Your vision was blurry, partly from your tears and partly from the blood that was spraying onto your face every time you brought your hand down. But you couldn’t stop. You busted his lip for your sister. You shattered his nose for the peace you’d fought for.

And you broke his jaw just for you.

Two strong arms were tugging you off the now lifeless body, and your face was pressed into a broad chest. Taking the first breath you’d been able to in 3 weeks, you got a lungful of Jason and you sobbed like a little baby. The hiss of his mask coming off barely registered in your mind.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, hey you’re- fuck, princess it’s okay.” He cooed and ran his gloved fingers through your hair. “It’s over. It’s over.”

“I should have-” You tried to speak but all that came out was a strangled gasping noise. Jason was wiping the blood off your face, pressing kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. “I should have told you.” You blubbered, clutching at the leather of his jacket. He didn’t even know what you were talking about, or how you got dragged into all this mess, but right now, he didn’t care. “M’not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me.”

“I’m always gonna stay.”

[resident-gay-bitch]

🐈‍⬛ Trick or Treat 🐈‍⬛

Little Steddie + Stobin meet cute; Eddie and Robin decide they must take Steve trick-or-treating, and they absolutely must make him their friend (a really special friend in Eddie's case) - fluffy! (5.5 k words)

This was all inspired by this tweet. It was so heartbreaking and upsetting I just had to fix it :)

🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃

Steve hasn’t celebrated Halloween since he was five. Not properly, anyway. Hasn't dressed up, or gone trick or treating even once since then. And he’s ten now, almost eleven. 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he misses going trick or treating. His mummy used to take him, until she stopped being home as much, and his babysitters could never be bothered. 

He used to love dressing up, it was his favorite part. Liked to talk to the other kids in the street and play spooky games. But he’ll probably never do that again. 

It’s probably stupid anyway. Steve’s double digits now, and his dad says that makes him a man, and men aren’t supposed to get sad about stupid things like Halloween. 

Besides, his mum says candy’s bad for him. It will make his teeth fall out and his tummy fat, and his mum really hates that stuff. 

Steve’s grown up knowing to always believe her, but he sees kids at school eating candy all the time, and they still have all their teeth and aren’t fat. Even his teacher eats candy, and offers a bowl of it around every holiday. 

But Steve never eats it. His mom will be upset with him if she finds out. 

But Steve’s a big boy, he can handle himself now. He’s got a bowl of sweets sitting by the door, eyeing him off and he’s trying his best not to eat one, because it’s for the trick or treaters. 

The little kids, the ones his age, the older ones, and even some parents. 

Steve pretends he’s not disappointed when they show off their awesome costumes that their moms made for them. He pretends he’s fine, he’s becoming a man, he shouldn’t care about kid things like Halloween. 

He gets up when there’s another knock on the door, what feels like the millionth one of the night, and finds three people waiting there all dressed in cool costumes. 

There’s a girl with freckles, short brown hair, and she’s done it all messy, dressed up like a scarecrow with a glowing lightbulb on the top of her head. She looks awesome, even has makeup on her face and real pieces of straw sticking out in random places. 

There’s a boy beside her, with big brown eyes sweet like the chocolate Steve’s giving out, with long hair like a mane with golden shimmers of tinsel through it. He’s dressed like a lion, a showy badge on his chest, and he roared when Steve opened the door. 

Behind them is an adult, probably their dad or something, dressed in grey with silver all over him, a funnel wrapped in foil on his head, a big red heart stitched into his shirt, and he’s holding a lead that’s got a little black cat on the end of it, with bows around its collar. 

They’re dressed as The Wizard Of Oz, Steve thinks, and they look awesome. Steve wishes he had friends or family to go trick or treating with. All he’s got is Mrs. Delores, from across the street to look after him tonight, and she’s been asleep on the couch since five o’clock. She’d never take him anyway, says Halloween is for the energised, whatever that means. 

“Cool costumes!” Steve says, puts on the brightest smile he can muster, just like his mom taught him. He grabs the candy bowl and holds it out for them to stuff their pillow cases with, “I love Wizard Of Oz— isn’t Toto a dog though?” 

“Yeah, but Eddie only has a cat.” The girl answers as the boy digs through the bowl, clearly looking for something specific, “I think she’s crazy enough to be a dog though! Makes the funniest noises ever.”

“Yeah, she’s the funniest.” The lion boy giggles, waggles the Milky Way he found in the air, “She’s crazy too, I found her by the quarry one day, and Wayne said I can keep her.”

Steve thinks the tin man is Wayne, gives the man a smile and offers the candy bowl to him, which he politely declines. 

“That’s cool, I’m not allowed pets. Especially strays, mom says they’re filthy.” 

“Cthulhu is filthy, but she doesn’t stink more than Eddie!” The girl teases, already eating a caramel treat, chocolate all over her mouth. 

Eddie punches her in the arm hard, “I don’t stink! Cthulhu is the best kitty in the world.” He bends down, picking the cat up under the arms and snuggling her, and she hisses and squeaks at him, “Aren’t you Cthulhu? You’re the best kitty cat in the world.” 

Cthulhu meows and puts her paw on Eddie’s face, and Steve laughs. He’s always wanted a pet, loves them so much. He Loves all animals. 

“Can I pet her?”

Eddie looks up at him from his snuggle with Cthulhu and arches his eyebrow, “Perhaps.” 

“Oh, lord.” The man mutters to himself behind them, and it seems like maybe Steve shouldn’t have asked. 

“Eddie’s very protective of Cthulhu because she’s a scared cat. She was really sick when we found her! So small you could see her ribs, it was so sad!” The girl informs him, very eager to teach, “She’s just a poor little kitty, and only loves me and Eddie and Wayne and no one else.” 

“It’s true, she bites people you know? If they get too close.” Eddie says ominously, holding onto Cthulhu like she’s a precious treasure that Steve is trying to steal, “One time Nash from across the trailer park tried to feed her tuna and she bit a chunk out of his hand! It was so funny, there was blood everywhere. He screamed so loud, the stupid fuck-“

“Language.” The man said, glaring at Eddie. 

“Uh, I mean, the stupid wimp.” 

“It’s true, did you know?” The girl nodded as she spoke, nodded so much Steve thought her head would fall off, “We hate Nash, he’s so mean.” 

“I would maybe let you pet her, if she likes you, which she probably won’t because she doesn’t like anyone except for us.” Eddie said, scratching Cthulhu behind the ear to make her purr, giving her little kisses to make her smile, “But, you must also pass the test.”

“What test?” Steve asked, curious now. He’d really like to pet Cthulhu, if she’d let him. 

“First, you have to swear to never, ever be mean to an animal ever.” The girl said. 

Then dramatically, Eddie added in, “Second, you have to swear allegiance to Robin and I forever and ever, which also means you swear allegiance to all underdogs by proxy-“

“I don’t know what any of that means.” Steve mutters, ashamed of himself. He’s been doing really bad at school lately, he knows he’s dumb, his dad tells him all the time. 

“Ed, remember not everyone reads Tolkien by the time they’re eight.” 

“Right.” Eddie nods, smiles up at Steve, “Uh, it means you have to swear to at least be nice to us always, like, friendly! No bullying us or being rude or anything. And also the same goes for every nerd or weird kid.” 

“Yeah, you can’t be mean to weird kids ever.” 

“Are you weird kids?” Steve asked, looking them over. He doesn’t think they’re weird, he thinks they’re cool, they have the coolest costumes he’s seen all night, they put a lot of effort into them. 

“The weirdest ever, actually.” Eddie states, nodding like he’s proud of it. 

Robin, the girl, nods in agreement. 

“Okay.” Steve shrugs, “I don’t care if people are weird, you have cool costumes.” 

“That’s really nice, thanks!” Robin says, but Eddie gives him a funny look. 

“Where’s your costume? And why aren’t you trick or treating? Are you sick or something?”

“Uhm, I just don’t want to.” Steve lies, he feels stupid because he wants to cry. 

“Oh, okay, weird.” Eddie says and stands again, keeps Cthulhu in his arms and Robin leans over to pet her too, “The third rule is that you have to give us an extra candy bar-“

“That’s not one of the rules?” Robin intervenes, clearly confused by this, which Steve finds funny. 

“Shh!” Eddie hisses, “Come on, it’s Halloween, it’s a special extra holiday rule.” 

“I don’t think that’s fair.”

“It’s just one extra candy bar. Besides, would you prefer stupid Jason come by and steal an extra one like he did at the last house?” 

“No.” Robin admits and turns to Steve, “Okay, yeah, an extra candy bar.” 

“And also, the last rule is-“

“You have to stand on one foot and hop on the spot and sing Soft Kitty!” 

“Hey, I wanted to say that part.” Eddie groans at her. 

“You always say that part.” Robin bickers back, and Eddie starts to sulk. 

Steve wishes he had friends like that. 

“Do you agree with the rules?” Robin asks, and Steve nods. 

“Sure.” He says. 

“Okay, fine.” Eddie said, snapping out of his hunch to grin at Steve again, “But don’t be offended if she doesn’t like you. She hates everyone. She was even scared of us for the first few days!” 

“Yeah, it’s true.” Robin agrees, watching Eddie set Cthulhu down, taking the leash from the older man, “She’s such a poor little kitty. Eddie, show him the scars you have! I can’t or it will stuff up my costume.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Eddie grins, shoving the sleeves up his arms to reveal an array of tiny bites and scratches, “Gnarly, huh?”

“I thought he had rabies! I was so scared, but it’s okay, we all got a rabies shot.” 

“Yeah, I almost passed out, I hate needles.” 

“It was really funny, the nurses had to give him three lollipops to stop him crying-“

“Hey! Don’t tell him that, he won’t think I’m cool.” Eddie punches her again. Robin punches him back. 

“He probably already thinks you’re not cool, Eddie. Everyone thinks you’re not cool, and he’s rich.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie mutters, shrugs like he no longer cares, loosens Cthulhu’s lead a little, “Anyway, just don’t take it personally if she tries to kill you or anything, she especially doesn’t like mean people or rich people. She only likes freaks and weirdos I think, ‘cause we’re like her, you know? She’s a good cat like that. So yeah, just don’t like, get upset if she hates—“

They all stop and stare when Cthulhu wanders over the threshold to Steve’s house, looking up at him with her tail in the air as she goes. She walks right up to Steve, rubs her face against his shin and weaves between his legs, stretching out and laying on his fluffy slipperd feet. 

Behind them, the older man snickers, and Eddie glares back at him. 

He takes a few steps away to catch his breath as he laughs, muttering as he goes, “Spoke too soon, boy, what’d I tell ya?” 

Eddie growls and looks back at Cthulhu like she’s betrayed him. Robin is just smiling, which is nice, she has a very happy smile. 

“I think she likes him, Eddie.” Robin says, and Eddie growls again. 

“So, can I pet her?” Steve asks.

“You have to do the ritual.” Eddie says with sass, like it’s a challenge, like Steve won’t do it, “Swear kindness to all animals.” 

“Obviously, I love animals.” Steve said with a frown. 

“That one’s easy, you’d be a total psycho if you didn’t!” 

“Okay, swear you’ll never be mean to an outcast or a weirdo.” Robin said. 

“Okay— but what about if a weirdo is mean to me first? Can I be mean back?” He asked, because the rules seemed a little biassed. 

“Eh, makes sense.” Robin nodded, “What do you think, Eddie?” 

“I agree. Not like a weirdo would ever be mean to a rich kid.” He said, shrugging. 

Steve arched his eyebrow at the boy, put his hands on his hips unimpressed, “I swear it, idiot.” 

“Hey, you can’t—“

“You said I can, if you’re mean first.” 

“I’m not— Wayne! Stop laughing at me!” Eddie huffed back at the man, facing Steve again, he said, “I’m not mean to you.” 

“You are. You said Cthulhu would probably hate me cause I’m rich. I’m not even rich, I just live here.” 

Beside him, Robin nodded, “You are kinda mean sometimes, Eddie.” 

Eddie looked like a fish out of water. The old man was still laughing, hunched over from it now. 

“We can call it even, if you’re nice to me from now on.” Steve states, holding out his hand in an offer. 

Eddie looks at his hand and considers it, looks back at Steve and sighs, “I’m sorry, okay, you're right. We can call it even.” 

Steve smiles and solidifies the shake, wondering why his stomach goes all fluttery. 

“Three!” Robin interrupts, literally leaning over to get between them, “Extra candy bar.” 

Steve smiles and lets them both have at it again, holding it steady as they aggressively rifle through the bowl in hunt of their desired treasure. Robin eats half of hers again when she gets it, drops the other half in her pillow case. 

“And the dance!” Eddie chimes in, carefully placing his sweet in the sack, “For a whole minute.” 

“How am I supposed to hop on one foot when Cthulhu is laying on my slippers?” 

“Uh, that’s a good point, Eddie. You know Cthulhu hates being disturbed.” Robin whispers, like she’s scared she’ll suddenly wake the sleeping kitty. 

Eddie pouts, looking down at the animal to come up with an answer. It takes him a while. Steve comes up with one first. 

He grabs the bowl of sweets again and dumps half in Robin's sack, and the other half in Eddie’s. A trade, extra candy so he doesn’t have to do the dance. 

“Awesome!” Robin grins, beaming down at her loot. 

“What about your leftovers?” Eddie asks, looking sadly at the big empty bowl, “You won’t have any leftovers! And you’re not trick or treating, so how would you get chocolate?” 

“It’s okay, mom doesn’t really like when I eat chocolate. Says it will make my teeth fall out—“

“Ah! Is that true?” Robin asks, her mouth full of melted chocolate again. She looks back at the man in fear, “Wayne! Are my teeth gonna fall out?”

“No.” He says, stern and sharp, “My mama used to tell me the same thing. You’re supposed to have treats, you’re a kid.” 

Oh, Steve thinks to himself, he’s a kid. 

“Oh, thank goodness.” Robin huffs and keeps munching away. 

“Here.” Eddie smiles, and he’s got a handful of candy bars taken from his pillow case, holding them out to Steve, “You deserve some chocolate too!” 

Steve blushes and takes the sweets, can’t find the Strength to protest when he really, really wants it. He stashes them in his pockets and tells himself not to forget about them. 

“Do you want some more?” Eddie asks, “I know how it feels to have no candy on Halloween, it sucks. I never got to trick-or-treat when I was little, my dad couldn’t be bothered and my mama was always sick.”

Steve frowns, looks at the boy and doesn’t even get another word in before Eddie’s reaching over and stuffing another handful of chocolate into Steve’s other pocket. He gives it a firm pat, stands up straight again, and smiles. 

Steve doesn’t know what to do. 

He thinks he’d like to be friends with these kids. 

“Can I pet your cat now?” He asks, too scared to say anything else. His dad says he’s too much of a wimp these days, and needs to man up. 

“Of course.” Eddie smiles, nods his head. 

Steve crouches down, careful not to move his feet and disturb the kitty, and he strokes from her head down her back until she purrs. She purrs so much her whole body starts to vibrate, it makes the three of them laugh. 

“She’s so cute, huh?” Robin asks, crouched down too to watch. 

“She’s the best kitty cat ever.” Eddie agrees, reaching to scratch under her chin with a finger, and Cthulhu smiles and tries to bite his finger, “No silly! I’m not a Halloween candy.” 

“She’s so soft.” Steve muses, can’t stop petting her, “She’s so cute.” 

“Super cute.” 

“The cutest!” Robin shouts, slaps a hand over her mouth when she realises how loud she was. 

“I wish I had a cat.” Steve sighs. 

“You can visit her sometimes, if you like?” Eddie asks, his cheeks all red for some reason, “Wayne doesn’t mind if I have friends at the trailer, and it would be mean to keep Cthulhu from her new best friend.” 

“You mean it?” Steve asks, feels himself smiling so wide his cheeks get warm, “For real?” 

“Yeah.” Eddie nods, gets very nervous when he says, “And… and maybe we could play, or something?” 

Steve nods his head, he hasn’t had a friend to play with since Tommy decided they were too cool for make believe, “Yes please.”

“You probably won’t want to if you’re cool and not a weirdo.” Robin says, doesn’t even look up as she speaks, too busy petting Cthulhu, “Eddie likes weird games, he always makes me be the dragon he has to fight and slay.” 

“I thought you liked being the dragon? You make such good dragon noises.” 

“Of course I do.” Robin huffs, looking over at him, “But he might not like being a dragon.” 

“Well he wouldn’t be the dragon, ‘cause you’re always the dragon.”

“We’ll, maybe he won’t want to be the knight either!” 

“I’m always the knight.” Eddie huffed and turned to Steve, wearing a very determined glare, “What do you want to be when we play fantasy? You could be the horse, but that’s probably boring. Or I suppose you could be the princess I rescue, because Cthulhu is always the princess. You can’t be the evil troll because Wayne’s really good at being grumpy. Or you can be something new if you like?” 

“I can be anything.” Steve shrugged, “I’ve never played fantasy before. It sounds fun.” 

“It’s so fun!” Robin grinned, “Maybe you could be the prince and Eddie can rescue you too!” 

“I’m really good at rescuing.” Eddie stated. 

“Okay.” Steve smiled, “Whatever you guys want.” He says, because he’s excited enough they want him there at all, he would play the tree if they wanted. 

“Cool.” Eddie grinned, totally delighted by this. 

“Thanks for letting me pet your cat.” Steve said, knowing he shouldn’t keep them any longer. They have more trick-or-treating to get too, and the man taking them is probably bored. “I think your costumes are really cool and creative.” 

“Thanks, we made them ourselves, Eddie’s really good at sewing and painting!” Robin grinned. 

“Well, Wayne had to help with the sewing machine. And Robin did all the decorations.” 

“That’s so cool.” Steve grinned, the words toppling out of his mouth before he could stop himself, “I wish I knew how to make costumes, my mom never makes me costumes, I miss trick-or-treating.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t feel like it?” Robin asked, and Steve stared at her, caught red. 

“Why doesn’t your mom make your costumes?” Eddie asked, looking so terribly sad about it, “Why don’t you go trick-or-treating? Is your mummy sick too?” 

Embarrassed, Steve shook his head, eyes averted to the ground as he shamefully admitted, “My parents don’t really care about this stuff, they say it’s for kids, and it’s silly. They’re never home anyway.” 

“But you are a kid.” Robin says, confused. 

Steve feels that harshly for the second time tonight. 

“I think your parents are stupid.” Eddie says flatly, and Steve thinks he’s awesome. 

“Eddie!” The older man snaps from behind, “That’s not very nice now, come on.” 

“But it’s true.” Eddie huffs, “Your parents sound like they suck. My dad sucked too. He’s in prison, you know, cause he sucks.” 

“Eddie really doesn’t like his dad.” Robin said, still crouched down to pet Cthulhu, not looking up at them as she spoke. 

Quietly, for the first time ever, Steve admitted something back, “I don’t like my dad either.” 

Eddie smiled at him, held up his hand in this strange symbol, his pinky and pointer finger extended whilst the others were folded. 

“What’s that?” 

“Metal.” Eddie said, a cool smile as he nodded. And Steve had no idea what metal means, but he makes the symbol back and smiles, because Eddie seems to think it’s cool, so it must be. 

“Cool.” 

“Do you want to come trick or treating with us?” He asks, and Steve thinks yes, but holds himself back. 

“Oh, yeah, please come!” Robin grins, up and jumping on the spot now. 

“We don’t even have a Dorothy.” Eddie says, “We don’t even have the main character!” 

“I told you to be Dorothy.” Robin tells him, “You have the perfect hair for it.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted to wear my lion costume again. It saved more time! We had to spend all our time making your costume!” 

Robin shrugged and looked back at Steve, “Do you wanna be Dorothy?” 

“Isn’t she a girl?” 

“So.” Eddie shrugged, “I think Toto’s a boy, and Cthulhu is pretending to be him— and Robins being a boy scarecrow. It’s just a costume.” 

“But she wears a dress. I don’t have a dress.” 

“You can be a boy Dorothy if you like?” Robin answers. 

“Or, you can be a girl Dorothy in pants.” Eddie adds on, “And I’m really good at making costumes, I bet I can help you come up with something cool. And then you can walk Cthulhu all night if you like, ‘cause Toto is Dorothy’s pet!” 

Steve does like the sound of going trick-or-treating with these guys. And he really likes the sound of hanging out with Cthulhu all night, she’s such a cute kitty, still sleeping on his slippers. 

Steve worries his lip and looks at the old man past them, wondering if he’ll tell Steve to stay home for wanting to dress up like a girl. 

“You’re welcome to join if you want, kid, I’ll just need to talk to whoever’s lookin’ after ya.” 

Steve is sort of scared to wake Mrs. Deloris, she’s a real hag when she’s grumpy. 

But, he’d like to go trick-or-treating even more. And this might be his only ever chance. 

”I’d really like to.” Steve says, and the three of them seem happy with his answer. 

Eddie dives down and grabs Cthulhu so Steve can move, which is a big mistake because she starts hissing and trying to scratch Eddie’s face, and he screams, the old man and Robin have to intervene. 

Steve rushes over to Mrs. Delores to wake her with a fright, and he tells her his plans, doesn’t ask, and she gets up in a grump to go talk to the man at the door. 

When Steve makes it back to them, Eddie’s got a bloody scratch on his cheek, but he doesn’t seem to mind it, he’s still holding Cthulhu as she naps in his arms, and he kisses her between the ears adoringly. 

“I wouldn’t know how to make a Dorothy costume.” Steve says, and this seems to excite Eddie and Robin. 

“Can we come in? We’ll help!” Eddie asks. 

“And your house is so big.” Robin wonders, leaning forward to inspect the inside, “I’ve never been in a house this big before.” 

“Me either.” Eddie muses, “Do you have a hot tub?”

Steve leads them inside, and up the stairs, “No, but I have a pool.” 

“Cool!” Eddie grins. 

“Do you have a cinema?” 

“No.” Steve giggles, “Of course not.” 

“Do you have two bathrooms?” Eddie asks.

Steve furrows his brow at the weird question, “Uh, yeah— or three if you count the extra toilet.”

“Woah!” The two say in unison, their eyes wandering around Steve’s house as they walk. 

“That’s so cool.” Eddie says.

“I’ve always wanted two bathrooms. My dad gets pee all over the toilet seat, and me and mom hate it.” Robin adds, and Steve decides to laugh, because Eddie is. 

He thought everyone had two bathrooms. He’s never shared one with his parents. That seems so strange. He’s not even allowed in his parents bathroom, they get so mad at him if he goes in there. 

He leads the pair into his bedroom and they go right for his wardrobe, diving right in without asking. Not that Steve cares, he thinks they’re so nice, and he’s excited to have more friends. 

They’re talking amongst themselves, chattering and chattering, agreeing and disagreeing. 

“Would you wear a skirt?” Eddie turns around to ask. 

“I don’t have a skirt.” Steve says back. 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“I guess.” Steve shrugged, “But it’s too cold for a skirt! It’s windy outside.” 

“He’s got a point.” Robin says, and Eddie nods. 

“Will your dad be mad if we cut up one of his shirts?” 

Steve’s eyes widened, he think his dad would definitely mind. But, he’s not home, won’t be for another week at least. Besides, he might not even notice, if Steve hides the evidence.  

He shakes his head no. 

“Does he have a blue button up?” 

Steve nods, knows he does. He has like, a billion of them. 

He races to go get one, finding one that’s got little blue and white checkers all over it, thinking it would be perfect for Dorothy. When he shows it to Eddie, he’s excited, says it’s perfect. 

Robin hands Steve a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans and tells him to change into them whilst they work on the dress. Steve rushes to change in the bathroom, can’t wait, he’s so excited. 

By the time he comes back out, the sleeves of his dads shirt have been cut off, and the collar removed to make straps instead, and Eddie’s making Steve put it on, and it’s long, like a dress. He’s cut one of the sleeves to make a belt, ties it around Steve’s waist with a bow, and Robin ties the other on his head. 

He’s still got his slippers on, which they decide are perfect, because they’re fuzzy red Elmo slippers, just like Dorothy’s shoes. Steve hasn’t felt this cool in a long time, he likes how creative Eddie and Robin are. 

He half expects to be told off when they get back down, yapping away to Cthulhu about the next houses they’re gonna hit, but the old man doesn’t mind that Steve’s in a dress. 

In fact, he compliments him, “Cool costume, looks just like the movie, kid.” He says, waves them all out the door, “Come on, it’s getting late and I have to have you home by ten.” 

“Quick!” Eddie says, putting Cthulhu down and letting Steve take her lead, “We’ve got so many more houses to get to.” 

“Wait! Dorothy doesn’t- wait, what’s your name?” Robin asks, and Steve feels silly for not having introduced himself. 

“Oh, it’s Steve.” He says, walking down the steps, Cthulhu right beside him. 

“That’s cool, I’m Robin, and he’s Eddie.” Robin said, “We’re best friends, we take art class together.” 

“Wow, you do art?” Steve asks, “I like colouring.” 

“Colouring is cool.” Eddie smiled, five steps ahead of everyone else, “I like drawing best. I draw monsters mostly.” 

“They’re so creepy.” Robin giggles, “It’s for his nerd game he likes. Watch out, he’ll probably make you try and play it. It’s so confusing.” 

“It’s not confusing. It’s just roleplay! It’s called Dungeons and Dragons, and it’s the coolest game in the world.” 

“Sounds fun.” Steve says, even though the dungeon part worries him. 

“What were you gonna say before, Robin?” Eddie asked, “You seemed so worried.” 

“Oh, uhm, I can’t- Steve doesn’t have a pillowcase!” She gasped, turning to Steve. 

“Oh no.” He said, looking back at his house, already a block away now. 

“It’s okay!” Eddie said, running back to them, “Steve can share mine, we’ll split all my candy down the middle since you missed so much. Come on, that house always has the best stuff.” He says, grabbing Steve by the wrist and pulling him along to run. 

Steve lets him, giggling as the three of them run through the street up to the house. His skin tingles where Eddie holds it, which is strange, but he doesn’t mind. It’s sort of nice. Eddie is really nice. 

“Come on.” He says, shoving Steve to the grand front door of the house they’re at, “You should do the honours, Steve, since you haven’t in ages! Come on, come on!” 

Nervously, Steve lifts his hand and rings the doorbell. And when the woman answers the door, he grins, and shouts, “Trick-or-treat!” Louder than he should have. 

The three get their fill of candy and head away to the next house, playing with Cthulhu as they go, comparing which chocolates are their favourites. 

Eddie says his favourites are milky ways, Steve says they’re his favourites too, and Eddie’s cheeks go red again at the fact. 

They manage to hit fifteen more houses before Steve has to go home, and Eddie’s pillow case is so full they decide to carry it together, so it’s not too heavy. 

They sit on the floor by the open door to divvy it out, Robin sits beside them eating more of her candy. Mrs. Delores comes out to flirt with Wayne, who Steve learned is Eddie’s uncle that he lives with, and apparently a lot of old ladies flirt with him. 

They split the chocolates clean down the middle, having an even amount in the bag. And Steve’s excited, because he’s got five milky ways, can’t wait to eat them. Eddie’s got six, at Steve’s insistence as payment for making his costume. 

At the last minute, when they’re scooping their treats back into Eddie’s pillow case and the candy bowl by Steve’s door, he remembers the pocketed treats from before, and races away to get them. He quickly divvys them between him and Eddie, gives the extra one to Wayne as a thank you, and says goodbye to his new friends. Especially Cthulhu. 

“Remember you have to come visit.” Eddie says sternly, watching Steve snuggle the cat, “Cthulhu will get depressed without you.” 

“Promise.” Steve nods. 

“Maybe you can come on Saturday! And maybe Tuesdays after five o'clock! And also Wednesdays after school, and Fridays too—“

“That’s when Robin comes over to my house. We hang out a lot.” 

“We’re best friends.” Robin nods. 

“That sounds like a good idea. Maybe I can come after school on Wednesday.” 

“Okay!” They both shout in unison. 

“Bye, Steve!” Robin shouts, beginning to hop down the steps, “See you around.” 

“Come here, kitty kitty.” Eddie says, tries to grab Cthulhu but she doesn’t let him. Hisses at Eddie and snuggles against Steve. Eddie looks very betrayed again, “Cthulhu! I said come here.” 

She just meowed. 

Steve laughed, handed her back over to Eddie with a little fight and apologised, “Sorry, Cthulhu. We’ll have to cuddle another time.” 

“She really loves group cuddles, you know.” Eddie blurts out, looks embarrassed again, “Just so you know.” 

Steve smiles, thinking he might like a group cuddle with them some time, “Okay.” He’s got butterflies again. 

“Okay.” 

Eddie’s so nice. 

“I’m gonna go now.” He mutters, “But you can come play whenever— not just when Robin’s there, okay?” 

“Okay.” Steve smiled again. It’s all he can do, really. 

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Eddie.” 

Eddie blushes and ducks his head, waving as he turns away, “I think you look nice, by the way, in your costume. Blue looks really nice on you.” 

Steve blushes too, “Thanks, Eddie.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, just bounces away, catching up to his uncle who’s holding Robin's hand as they walk. Steve watches them walk away, stands silently at the door with a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. 

Wayne scruffs Eddie’s head as they walk away, “Steve seems nice.” He says, sounds like he’s teasing. 

Eddie hunches his shoulders up, glances back at Steve and looks away again immediately, grits out, “Shut up.” 

“What’s going on?” Robin asks, leaning into Eddie’s space. 

“Nothing!—“

“Eddie thinks Steve’s nice.” 

Eddie groans, and Steve doesn’t understand why that’s such a big deal. Steve is nice, isn’t he? 

Isn’t he? 

“Ohh!” Robin muses, skips a few steps ahead and starts singing as the reach the street, “Eddie and Steve, sitting in the tree—“

“Shhh! He’s gonna hear you.” 

“K. I. S. S. I. N. G—“

“I’m gonna kill you!” Eddie groaned, running straight for her. 

Robin erupted in giggles, running away down the street, into the night.  

Steve closes the door and looks down at his bowl of candy, can’t help himself, just wants one before bed. He goes to grab a Milky Way, and something catches his attention. 

He’s supposed to have five. But there are— one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven in the bowl. 

Eddie snuck Steve all of his, even though they’re his favourites. 

Steve can’t wait to hang out with his new friends Robin and Eddie. 

Especially Eddie. 

Steve doesn’t think he’s gonna have a lonely Halloween ever again. 

[cypherscript]

Make a meaningful wish writing prompt.

Danny Phantom but it works under the Lilo and Stitch series rule of finding where the ghosts belong without causing massive chaos and destruction. Some are easy *cough* boxghost *cough*, some are hard like Vortex. ____________________________________________________

"Look Desiree, I understand you grant wishes but this last bout of wishes was to far." Danny taps on a clipboard as he sits across from Desiree the wishing ghost. "Fourteen counts of angsy teenage rebellion, three counts of Fiction to Fact, two counts of wishful thinking and a single count of... Why would you even grant that wish?"

"It's not my choice which wish I grant, my liege. I must grant that which i hear."

"How about this; I wish you could choose which wish to grant."

"That is a generous thought my liege but I have thought of that before. My limitation is from my soul, I have not figured out how to undo it."

"How about this, if we can fixed your wishing problem. Do you mind using your powers for a good cause? No janking the wishes or making them turn bad."

"It depends on the situation. I refuse to grant the wishes of men."

"The humans have this foundation that grants wishes for terminally ill children. Think you can help out? I think you'll really like working with them." Desiree's harsh look softens very slightly and agrees, Danny thinks for a moment, "Now your soul issue, I might know a guy who can help with that, it'll involve some paperwork though. Connie owes me one... or two... or twenty."

"No! Absolutely not! Anyone but him!" _____________________________________________________

*Jump cut to human disguised Danny and Desiree sitting in a cafe.*

"I want it on record that I despise this plan."

"Duely noted, besides Connie's the best person who can rework soul problems."

"Yes because he's the universe's soul whore," Desiree says exasperatedly, her jewelry drawing the other patrons attention.

Danny gestures to lower her volume, "Will you keep it down, do you want the whole dimension to hear you?"

"Yes. Immensely so."

[archangeldyke-all]

Okayokayokay

Reader cussing Silco out for working Sevika too hard and letting her get seriously injured on a mission? And Sevika just sitting there like (///0-0///) and she doesn’t even try to intervene because hell hath no fury like an angry wife>:]

-🥨

this is EVERYTHING to me i'm such a sucker for the whole 'protector gets protected' trope ugh

men and minors dni

you know something's wrong the moment you hear the knock at your door.

nobody knocks on your door. sevika's always loudly clambering inside, her keys jangling loudly, the door slamming behind her-- but she never knocks. solicitors know not to come to your house-- sevika's scared them all off by now.

your fears are confirmed when you open the door and find ran on your front stoop, cringing at you. your heart drops.

"is she--"

"she's okay!" ran cuts you off, knowing how quick you'll fly off the handle when it comes to sevika. "she's fine, i just... she's sleeping it off in the bar, i wanted to come get you, tell you she won't be home for a while." ran says.

you're shoving your shoes and coat on before ran can finish their sentence. they trail beside you as you start storming toward the last drop. "what happened?" you demand.

ran shrugs. "i dunno. i wasn't there. i was just playin' a game of pool, then deckard and silco were stumbling in carrying her in their arms."

your stomach churns, and you stumble a bit. ran reaches out to steady you. "she couldn't walk?!" you ask, your voice shaky.

"singed fixed her up, got some shimmer in her system before any damage could become permanent." ran tries to placate you. "she'll be fi--"

"ran." you growl, glaring at your friend. they sigh, then wrap their arm around your shoulders, pulling you toward their chest.

they don't try to calm you down anymore. they just keep you from stumbling into people as tears make your vision blurry-- gently guiding you toward the bar.

sevika's back on her feet, nursing a whiskey and cringing away from singed as he stitches a wound on her flesh arm when you storm into the bar.

at the sight of you, her shimmer-pink eyes flash a bit and a goofy smile takes over her face.

fuck, her poor face. she's been beaten and battered, her nose swollen, her lip busted, one of her eyes bruised.

she tries to rise from her seat but she cringes in pain. you jump into action, sprinting across the bar to meet her, helping her ease back down into her stool and letting singed continue his work.

you gently cup her face, pushing her loose hair behind her ears, kissing her forehead. "hi, baby." you whisper.

"hi, baby." sevika repeats, smiling up at you. the shimmer's doing its job, keeping her happy and goofy and unaware of the needle stitching her back together. you're happy to see she's feeling alright, but you're enraged now that you're close enough to see her injuries up close.

"what happened to you, huh?" you ask. sevika giggles and shrugs like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"she got thrown through a window, fell twenty feet." singed says. sevika giggles again. you have to swallow back the bile that rises in your throat.

"who the fuck threw her through a window!?" you ask.

"a chembot at the shimmer plant malfunctioned, identified her as a threat." singed says, shrugging.

behind you, there's a muffled curse and some shuffling, and you turn around just in time to see silco trying to hide behind lock. it's too late for him, and he seems to know it, cringing the moments your eyes meet.

"silco!" you shout.

sevika huffs in her stool. "babe--" she cuts herself off when you flash her a glare, her mouth quickly shutting as her boss shuffles over to you; looking like a kicked dog.

"you care to explain to me why my wife's getting her only good arm stitched back on right now?!" you start. silco scoffs a bit.

"it's barely a flesh wound."

"oh, i'll show you a fucking flesh wound!" you growl, launching forward and narrowly avoiding grabbing silco in your clutches when ran reaches out and hooks their arm around your waist.

"i'm sorry! she's alright, she--"

"she could've fucking died!" your voice echoes through the bar. silco's shoulders slump, and you stop fighting against ran's grip. you don't stop screaming, though. "i know you've got your head so far up your own ass it's coming back out of your mouth, but there are other people in the fucking world! other people, like the love of my fucking--" you choke on your own tears.

silco at least has the decency to look ashamed. "i'm sorry." he whispers, sincerely.

you take a deep breath and collect yourself, before gulping and speaking clearly. "i need you to hear me clearly when i say this. the next time you decide to treat my wife like she's disposable, i will burn down this bar, i will burn down your shimmer plant, and i. will fucking. kill you." your hand is shaking at your side.

somewhere behind you, thieram lets out a whistle and a quiet "damn."

"understand?" you ask, rasing an eyebrow at the man in front of you. silco looks shocked. there's a bit of begrudging respect in his gaze, but it's mostly just surprised intimidation.

"i understand." he confirms, his voice squeaking as he nods.

you nod, then turn to look at singed. "is she good to go?"

"keep her hydrated, give her half a vial at every meal." he says, nodding and handing you a handful of shimmer vials.

"good. we're going home. i'll send her back to work when she's healed." you say over your shoulder as you start to storm out of the bar.

you catch your reflection in the mirror behind the bar-- you're barely recognizable; the rage coursing through you making you look almost... scary. you look over your shoulder back at your wife.

she's sitting in her stool, stars in her eyes as she grins at you. you snort, just a bit.

"c'mon, baby." you say, reaching a hand out and motioning her toward you.

she's out of her stool so fast it topples over and hits the floor with a clatter, sprinting over to get into your arms.

you giggle, catching her as she trips over her own feet, still a little goofy from the shimmer and whiskey, and press a quick kiss to her bruised cheek before wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her arm over your shoulders so you can support her weight as you start your walk home.

when the pair of you brush past silco, sevika giggles and shrugs, mouthing a 'sorry' to her boss.

when you push out into the street, sevika doesn't let you get more than three feet away from the bar before she's pulling you in for a breath taking, slightly bloody tasting kiss.

it catches you completely off guard, and you're grinning and out of breath by the time sevika pulls away. "wh-what was that for?" you ask your wife.

she's grinning at you. "that was the hottest thing i've ever seen in my life." she says. you snort, and sevika shakes her head. "i don't think you get it babe: i've been workin' with silco for ten years, he's had knives and bullets and bombs thrown at him, and he doesn't bat an eye. but that in there? i think he mighta shit his pants a bit!" she's cackling.

you smile, your worry and anger fading a bit at the sight of your wife laughing.

she's okay. she's alive and happy and doubling over in front of you, holding her side as she cackles.

you sigh, and lean forward to kiss her cheek. "i meant it, you know. i dunno what the fuck i'd do if something happened to you."

"i know." she says. "'s what made your threats so scary, you actually mean it." she giggles. you huff and flick her shoulder, and her smile shrinks, just a bit. sevika leans forward and kisses your forehead. "nothin's gonna happen to me. i'm indestructible, you know that." she promises.

you pout up at her, still worried. sevika kisses your lower lip, and you can't help but smiling a little.

"besides. i'm pretty sure silco's gonna hire me a bodyguard just to make sure i get home safe to you every night, after that." she teases. you cackle, and tug your wife toward home.

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