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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

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Running To You

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister series to Just What I Needed

Summary: You're rescued by a man who you don't even know is a real hero.

Characters: nomad Steve Rogers

Note: a stressed out steve rogers plus a cutie. it bloomed from the theory of Steve's beard being a symbol of his darker side, or a darker state of mind. In the wat that he would usually pride himself on a neat appearance but lets himself go a bit when he's not at his best.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stumble up over the curb as you check the list on your phone. Oops, you should really look where you're going. You steady yourself and giggle at your own clumsiness. For how precise your inventory is, the rest of you is a bit of a clutter.

You dodge through the onslaught of pedestrians and apologise a deep 'hey, lady' thunders through at you. You quickly dip into the store and shield yourself with the door. You gasp and catch your breath, smiling at the associate nearest to you. The organic shop probably isn't the most exciting place to shop but it has most of the ingredients you need. Raw honey, tallow wax, essential oils...

You greet them with a small wave and 'hi' and turn to look at the shelves along the wall. They don't acknowledge you. Most people don't, not that you mind. You keep to yourself.

The door jingles and another customer enters. They pause by the door and look around. They might be lost. It's not unusual for one more person to wander in but usually they don't stay long.

He clears his throat and you do your best to focus on your list. You're going to need a basket. As you go to grab one from the stack, the man faces you. You shy away and stop short of latch onto one of the mesh baskets.

"Excuse me, miss," he holds up a familiar item; a red wallet with white polkadots. It's yours! "I think you dropped this."

"Oh, my, I did," you give a sheepish smile to his chest. He's an awfully big man. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," he hands it over.

You accept it and hold it to your chest. You give a tiny shimmy, "thank you so so much!"

You dare to look up and meet his eyes. They're blue but reticent. He scratches his beard as he nods and backs up.

"I think I'm in your way," he grabs one of the baskets and offers it to you.

"Oh, no, but yes, thank you, I need one," you take it.

"Mm, yeah," he smooths out the tuft in his beard that he was pulling on. The hair is thick and coarse; the locks on his head are just as dense, pushed back away from the face, though his chin-length strands try to droop past his ears.

You put your head down and turn back to the shelves. He lingers, seemingly lost as he looks around. What's the odds that in a city like this someone would do something so nice? You look at the list again then peek over at him. He squints at a jar of sourdough starter.

"What do you use in your beard?" You ask then cover your mouth. "I'm sorry, that's not... polite, is it?"

He shrugs, "hm, I just use shampoo, I guess. Face wash?"

"Right. Well, it's pretty shiny." You scrunch up your face. "I'm sorry." You chew your lip in embarrassment. Your cheeks are ablaze. "I'm working on my beard oil. I make it. Um, sell it. But..."

"Beard oil," he repeats thoughtfully. "I don't... I guess maybe I should."

He touches his beard again, a crease between his brows.

"I don't meant to-- I... I'm not... it's cute. I mean. Suits you. I was just--" you show your teeth nervously. "I don't have a beard so..."

"Yeah," he agrees awkwardly and tucks his hair back behind his ears before it can fall forward.

"I ramble..." you drift off and face the shelves again. "I'll stop bothering you."

He inhales and backs up. He turns to the door then stops. You sense his gaze.

"It's a bit busy. Rush hour," he says. "You don't mind if I hide in here with you?"

You glance over. You shrug. "Um, yeah, sure. It's not my store. Not sure how interesting it is."

You fumble between the basket and your phone. You hum and scour the shelves with your eyes, scrunching your nose in concentration. He comes closer.

"What are you looking for?" He asks.

"Soybean oil."

"Soybean oil," he nods. "For..."

"Soap," you cheep.

"Ah. In my day, ma just used fat and lye."

You give his statement a thought. You've seen some recipes from way back. Like long ago. Almost a hundred years now. A lot of people prefer the gentler ingredients.

"Oh, that's cool that she made her own stuff," you muse as you take a canister and tap your spreadsheet to mark off that item.

"Yeah," you feel him trying to see the screen. "You're really organized."

"Can't forget anything," you say.

"Sure." He lurks and looks around before he focuses on you again. "I'm Steve, by the way."

You look at him. He's just as big as the last time you looked. His blue eyes seem uncertain. He can't be afraid of someone like you. You give your name.

"Nice to meet, you, Steve."

"You too," he agrees. "Can I help?"

"Oh, sure. What do you prefer? Rose or Gardenia?"

"Rose is nice," he says.

"I agree," you say and pluck up the small bottle.

"You said you sell stuff?"

"Sure do," you chime. You tuck the bottle into the basket. "You know, you don't have to pretend to care."

"What? I... I'm curious."

You eye him, "well, Steve, I'll believe you, but there's not much to be curious about."

His brows furrow, not so much in agitation, but intrigue. "The beard oil. How much?"

"Oh, you know, I could get you a sample from my hoard. Since you got me my wallet back. You don't have to do all that."

"I want to. I think you right," he runs his hands over his beard. "Needs a bit of taming."

You laugh, "looks good to me. Oh, you can try coconut oil. It's real easy and you can use it in your hair too."

"Coconut oil," he says. "I'll add it to the list. What about yours?"

"Soy wax," you look at your list. "I can use that for lots of things."

He lifts his heads, shoulders wide and straight, looking around on a mission. He strides around the rack behind him and you watch him search a shelf. He picks up two jars. He comes back to you. "Which do you prefer?" He holds up to two different sellers. You take the one in his left hand.

"Thank you," you grin.

"Next," he looks down at your phone.

"Jeez, you sure are helpful," you check again.

"They sell wicks. I need the long ones. Like this." You hold the basket and phone at a length.

He nods again, "on it."

You point him to the corner where they keep the candlemaking stuff and you go back to your own search. He's too quick for you. He has a hole bunch in hand. You have him put half in your basket and he takes the rest back.

Huh, looks like you made a friend.

🎀

Steve holds the door for you. It's so nice you thank him for what must be the dozenth time since you met. Maybe only even an hour ago.

As you get outside, you turn back to him, certain to keep away from the pedestrians who pay no heed to obstacles. "I can take that bag too."

He looks down as the door shuts behind him. "Pretty heavy," he says.

"Oh, I always do that. I forgot my little rolly bag," you shrug. "I can handle it."

"Wouldn't feel right letting you carry it all. Mrs. Rogers didn't raise a punk."

"Is that your mom? I bet she's nice too," you say. "It's alright, Steve. You've done enough. I owe you. My wallet would've been gone with the wind and I never coulda bought all this."

He stares at you, then once more peeks down at the fabric bag. You always bring the reusable; they're much stronger than the paper ones supplied in-store. He chews his lower lip.

"If you owe me, well, you wanna have a coffee? Together?" He asks.

You blink. That's so nice of him too.

"Coffee?" You press your lips together. You feel bad saying no. Not that you want to. It wouldn't be so bad to have someone to sit with. For once. "I don't drink it."

He nods, "tea? Hot chocolate? Water?"

You laugh.

"I'll have a cookie," you offer. "Um," you look up and down the street. "Where..."

"I saw a place. Never been in. Wanna give it a try?"

"Oh, cool. Yeah. I love new places, even if they're scary," you say.

"Here," he takes the other bag from your hands before you can argue. "It's a block back."

"Wait, Steve! I can carry that."

"Not if I'm around," he insists, "come on."

He rolls his shoulder in a gesture for you to follow. You huff and hop into motion. You walk next to him, wary of the oncoming people along the sidewalk. A man nearly bowls you over and you knock into Steve's elbow.

"Oof, I'm sorry."

"Get on the inside of me, doll," he says. "Used to be that people took their hat off when they passed a lady. Now they don't care if... well... you move."

He stops and lets you step across his path. He keeps you between him and the storefronts as he strides on undaunted. You wish you were as brave as him.

"Ah, there it is." He tilts his chin up.

You look ahead. You see the sign sticking out in the shape of a coffee cup.

"Oh, I see it," you hurdle ahead. "My turn."

You pull open the door as he follows. He stops to let another customer out before he enters. You follow him.

"There's a table," he nods.

You follow his gaze to the wall. You lead the way and he trails you. He puts the bags in one of the chairs.

"How about you sit?" He suggests. "What kind of cookie do you want?"

"Oh, Steve, uh," you pull out your wallet, "if they have oatmeal--"

"My treat." He insists.

"You can't do that," you argue.

"You gonna stop me?" He challenges. You gulp and blink at him. You don't think you could stop him from anything. He's quite the figure.

"I guess not." You murmur.

His expression softens, "hey, I'm kidding. I didn't... scare you, did I?"

"N-no," you force a smile. "I appreciate that. Thank you. Oatmeal. That's all."

"Alright. I'll be back." He turns and you see his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath.

You sit and jiggle your leg as you look around. You avoid the coffee shops, even the bakeries. They're always so busy. You are methodical in your ventures but today's seems to have gone off the rails. Not in the worst way. One time, you tried to take the subway and ended up lost in the rain.

There's women who look like they could be on a TV show with their fabulous dresses and perfect waves; a man in a suit with his laptop and a single earbud in, and an older couple near the door. There are many others in the line to get a treat of their own.

You turn in the chair and press your palms to the table. You stare at the wood between your hands. You feel the heat speckling over your scalp, that sense of suffocation burrowing into your chest, the voices swirling around you like a raging wind.

"Here," Steve interrupts your internal panic. He places a large cookie before you and mug. "They had this strawberry cream thing. No coffee."

You look at the pink concoction with a dark red swirl in the middle. "Mmmm," you lean forward to admire it. "Wow. It looks good."

He puts his own coffee down and moves the bags under the table. He sits and unzips his jacket to let the tension out of the fabric. You smile and pick up the cookie. You hide behind it.

"I can't eat this alone. It's as big as my face." You giggle.

You break it in two and offer him half. He eyes it for a moment then accepts it with a thanks. You take a bite then round your eyes at him. He's staring. Oh no. Is that rude? You chew and swallow quickly.

"What?" You hide your mouth behind your hand.

"Nothing. It's just..." he glances around the shop. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" You make googly eyes and cross them. "Is there something on my nose?"

He snorts. "No. There's not." He sighs. "Just haven't had a nice quiet coffee in a while. It's nice."

Your brows pop up and you smile big. "I'm sorry I'm not a big coffee person. I tried it once and it made my belly gurgle."

"It's fine. Bad habit," he taps the handle of his mug with his index finger. "Are you gonna try that cup of sugar?"

"Not much better, is it?" You pick up the mug and blow over it. You put your lips over the brim and taste it cautiously. You hum. "Mm," you pull it away. "Delicious! This is a tummy ache worth having."

His cheek dimples as he watches you. You fidget against his gaze. He's nice but you never had anyone stare at you so much.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #running to you #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america

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augustsblossom · 1 day ago

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Hiii 👋🩷 I would like to request a Mark Grayson fic where he’s like unnaturally warm because he’s half viltrimite and he uses his hands as like a heating pad for reader who is suffering from cramps

Just like super fluffy cuddles and sweetness

Take your time bestie and thank you for writing for this fandom 🩷🩷🩷 (there really aren’t enough Mark fics😭😭😭) 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

THIS IS SO CUTE STOOOPP AND thank you so much!! There fr isn’t enough so I’m rolling up my sleeve and getting to work

── ── ── ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ── ── ──

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ main! Mark Grayson x afab! reader

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ a/n: I appreciate the requests you guys have been sending me! This is very self insert lowkey so if you don’t like horror movies or pumpkin scents just imagine what you do like! This also is in NO WAY reader intentionally being a bitch to the sweet boy like I said I’m projecting and I get snappy when I’m on mine </33 inbox me if you guys have ideas ily! <3

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ CW: fluff!!!, She/her pronouns aren’t used but reader does get periods lol, reader is cranky when they’re menstruating (I’m self projecting), mark just puts his hands on readers lower stomach, mark is very patient and reader feels bad lolol

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ IMPORTANT: constructive criticism is encouraged! I’m always looking to make my fics better or to make it more enjoyable for you guys so if there’s anything I can do or fix, comment or inbox me! I want to make it as best as I can for yall <3 it’s also not proofread again I’m hoping you guys can uncode what it means

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ taglist: @realmcflurry1 (lmk if you wanna be in the next one!)

── ── ── ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ── ── ──

So like, imagine a semi full of bricks coming at you full speed right, but instead of crashing normally it crashes RIGHT into your lower stomach and puts it all there

Oh and with that imagine a doctor has a handful of needles and they just shove it all in your uterus…

Yeah you are DONE FOR BABEEE

But hey at least you have your super sweet geeky boyfriend to help with that right!!

It’s hard for him to be a superhero but it’s hard when you don’t have your boyfriend around!

Cecil has him working to the damn BONE and he will not give that poor boy a break!

So of course you feel bad when you start having an attitude and getting snappy at him, but no one blames you for it you’re in so much pain!!!

Mark finally had a day off where he didn’t need to be “invincible” for a day, you loved it so much but you hated it landed on a day your period started

Those cramps were KILLING you and they hit like a damn lightning drop ok it was horrid but Mark was there for you!

He recently just got back from a store trip you asked him to make, getting you chocolates, chips tampons and pads (he made the “what size pussy you wear 😂” joke and you didn’t laugh so he apologized and said it was cringe, you’re never forgetting it)

He walked in your shared room with the bags in hand a warm smile on his face

“Hey pretty” Mark says softly, sitting the bag on the bed and kissing your forehead as you’re curled up with the blanket covering to your nose

You open your eyes slowly and look at him

“Hi.” You said shortly, kind of side eyeing him but like not in a trying to in a bitchy way you’re just in pain yknow?

Anyways, he gave you a bit of a confused look then left to change into a shirt and sweats. He came back shortly and laid in bed next you

“Wanna watch something? Netflix added new horror movies!” He said with enthusiasm

“I don’t care, we can watch whatever.” You say shortly again.

Good god the patience that man had for you was INSANNEEEE. He would never be this patient with anyone else, especially Cecil and even sometimes Debbie, but he had so much for you, you just felt terrible.

He softly said okay and put on your favorite. After laying in silence for a moment, your back was still facing him when you asked

“Mark…”

“What’s up?”

“….do you hate me even though I was being mean”

Marks brows furrowed as he looked towards you

“Huh?”

You turn to look at him with literally the puppy dog looking eyes and a frown on your face

“I’m sorry. I was being so mean I just don’t feel well and everything hurts so bad and it’s not your fault and I love you so much and never want you to leave me I hate being mean I’m so-“

Okay babe you can shut the fuck up now he gets it.

He let out a giggle, pulling you closer to him and pepper kissing your face

“I understand, you don’t have to explain yourself. I can’t imagine how bad THAT kind of pain is but I don’t blame you at all for it. I also can never hate you, you’re too cute for that” he pepper kisses again

After your little giggle sesh he pulled you even closer so you were caged in, your face against his chest

“If you’d like I can help you with those cramps”

You nod slowly and he turns your entire body so now your back is facing him. He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you with one hand on your stomach and the other right above it

His hands were…unnaturally warm. I mean as half-Viltriumite you kinda get that but you loved when he used his powers not only for fighting enemies

The sudden warmth on your stomach made you comfortable, and it was a plus that Mark was cuddling with you too, so forget that heating pad! You have a Mark!

Mark fell asleep first (of course) and you followed shortly after. The burning pumpkin candle blew out on its own after a while, and the movies end credits rolled. The sun was setting and temperature of the room plus you and Mark made everything perfect

Mark does make the doomed week truly better.

#invincible #invincible x reader #invincible smut #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson smut #mark grayson

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campwillowpeakvn · 3 days ago

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Regarding Lily

Because it seems this isn't dying down and I'm a big octopus who puts my pants on one tentacle at a time, I'm gonna say my peace and give my apologies where they're due

Firstly, let me say I am no longer associated with Lily. Full stop. Aside from a comm I plan on refunding them when I have the means to do so.

And after being brought screenshots and hearing first hand testimonials of their repeated behavior and poor treatment of others, as well as my own growing issues, I no longer in good conscious can continue to do so

After looking at the whole picture and looking back on past actions I came to the realization that not only had I been manipulated through tactics such as love bombing, but I had been drug into dramas I wasn't even a part of on several instances, wound up, and used as an attack dog because yes. I am very loud, very opinionated, and have little filter and poor impulse control, especially when heated. Sorry but when I see 'Bring it to Ziggy' in things I'm not even a part of?... Yeah... Added to that are times where I've been left feeling used for both my blog/game's following.

Does that wash me clean of all responsibility? Absolutely not. I am a grown adult and at the end of the day my actions are my own, but that doesn't excuse outside factors that played a role either

On that note I would like to apologize to Saint and co. for the shit show that happened last year. Do I think they all are free from fault? No. The ball was still dropped on a few things, and admittedly on both sides, but at the same time it was drug WAY too far and for WAY too long and that should not have happened. I had no part in things like the doxxing and death threats and COMPLETELY disavow that shit. Did I talk shit and vent in private? Yes. Everyone has the right to vent in secure PRIVATE spaces. But everything else? That was fucked

So yes, Saint, I am sorry. I'm a big girl who can own up and give apologies where they're due. At the end of the day, we're all human, and mistakes were made

But yeah, I can't speak on what my friends went through personally with Lily cause those are their stories to share. But thats why I'm no longer associating with Lily and I hope that at the very least people can respect that and not send asks in regarding the situation or people involved

Thank you, Ziggy

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moondustbaby · 1 day ago

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Big Kid Now

Blue collar!Rafe x SAHM!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

Summary: It’s Jace’s first day of kindergarten, and while he’s all excitement and big smiles, his mama’s doing her best not to cry through drop-off. Rafe holds it together for both of them—until their little boy walks into school without even looking back.

⸻

The morning felt heavier than usual, like the air itself knew something big was happening. Lunch was packed, backpack zipped, and Jace stood proudly in the kitchen, already wearing his new light-up sneakers and Spider-Man tee like it was armor.

“You ready, buddy?” Rafe asked, crouching to help straighten his son’s collar even though there wasn’t much to fix. He was all grins, trying to play it cool, but his voice cracked a little when he said, “Can’t believe you’re already in kindergarten.”

“I’m gonna play with blocks and eat snacks and do real math,” Jace declared proudly, puffing out his little chest.

You stood near the counter, arms crossed, trying not to cry for the fourth time that morning. Mia was still in her pajamas, clutching her stuffed bunny, and watching her big brother like she couldn’t quite understand what was happening.

“Okay,” you whispered, half to yourself, “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Rafe shot you a look. He saw right through it, of course. He came over, hand resting on your back, warm and grounding.

“You’re gonna lose it the second we get in the car, huh?”

“I already am losing it,” you muttered, blinking quickly and leaning into his side. “He’s not supposed to grow up this fast. He was just learning how to walk.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, the curve of his lips pressed gently to your hairline. “I know. I feel it too.”

But he was solid. Holding it together for both of you, even when his own eyes looked shinier than usual.

The drive to school was a blur. Jace chattered the whole way, and you held his hand too tightly at every stoplight. When you pulled into the lot, kids were already spilling out of cars, some crying, some bouncing in excitement. Rafe parked, climbed out, and came around to unbuckle Jace. You followed, lifting Mia onto your hip.

“Alright, big man,” he said, holding out his hand for a high-five. “You go show ’em what you’re made of.”

Jace grinned, smacked Rafe’s palm with his tiny one, and then turned to you. “Love you, Mama,” he said before hopping down onto the sidewalk like it was just another day at the park.

That was when the tears came.

Rafe caught your hand before you could wipe them away. “Hey,” he whispered, tugging you close while Jace marched ahead toward the school doors. “He’s gonna have the best day.”

You nodded, tears slipping freely now. “I know. I just… I’m gonna miss him.”

“I will too,” he murmured. “But he’s ready. You made him ready.”

You leaned into him, watching as your little boy—your baby—walked inside without looking back, fearless and proud. And even though your heart ached, it also swelled with something bigger: pride, love, and a new kind of beginning.

Mia slid off your hip and clung to your leg, eyes wide as she stared at the school. You rested your hand on her soft curls and looked up at Rafe, who was still watching the doors like he wasn’t quite ready to turn around yet.

“We’ll be okay,” he said softly. “And hey—this one’s not going anywhere.”

You looked down at your daughter, who was now squeezing your leg like she was afraid you might vanish too, and smiled through the lump in your throat. “Thank God for that.”

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: this fic is basically just: Jace thriving, me spiraling, and Rafe trying to hold the whole family together before 8am. 10/10 emotional experience. enjoy the chaos. 🙃🥲

♥️ lani

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natsredbra · 3 days ago

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Wingwoman, go!

summary: Misty develops a cutesy, high school type of crush on Nat - Van helps her execute it!

a/n: Ooookay, it’s finally here. I will cry if it flops. I’m actually kind of proud of this one, which is rare for me. Ty 📼 anon for this very cool req!

warnings: angst (not too bad tho), Natalie can’t tell what she wants…I actually don’t think if there’s anything else but lmk if you do find something!

word count: 4.9k

pairing(s): Misty Quigley x Natalie Scatorccio; brief Van Palmer x Misty Quigley (but mostly platonic)

taglist: @misty-scatorccio, @towabirdno1fan, @feralnataroni, @flurpe @lesbabe6 @radioactivesweet @ambessasevikasexslave, @ashliami @johnnytoothpick @ikeepgettinglostwithchairs @wompingburg

It was quite a warm, sunny day, though the absence of Mari was much colder. Natalie sat in her hut, awaiting her next inevitable meeting while worrying her head off. She was supposed to protect these damn girls. She’s meant to lead and take charge but no, Shauna Shipman being the way she was kept ruining everything.

“Hey, we good to come in?” Van asked, peering inside and seeing Nat look lost in thought.

“Oh- yeah, sure.” She stammered, moving over to make room for the two girls.

“Hi! You look a little pale, are you alright? Should I get you some water or tea? Or I could-“ Misty rushed as soon as she sat down, taking ahold of the girl’s hand.

“No, Misty I’m fine. Just get on with it.” She said quietly, not looking at her. In truth she didn’t mean to be snippy, but she was extremely irritable right now. Had right to be, too.

“Well we just wanted to go over everyone’s chores today. Gen is being annoying about the shit bucket.” Van said in a bored tone.

Natalie could not fucking believe it. Their friend was out there, somewhere missing and they’re worried about their dumps? Jesus Christ.

“Fucking god, I’ll take it.” She said, rubbing her face with one of her hands. The other one was still in the warmth of Misty’s.

“Hey, it’s okay Nat. I’ll do it, I know how stressed you are.” The curlyhead replied to her.

She sounded different, somehow. Sure, Misty was always there to kiss someone’s ass but this felt different. More affectionate, with genuine worry. Van indeed noticed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as a smirk formed on her face, observing the unassuming Natalie as she softly nodded, giving Misty a small “thanks.”

“So…we will leave you alone. You go rest or something, you look like hell, okay?” Van added to Nat, with prominent concern.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try to come up with a plan, just make sure everyone gets ready.” Natalie practically groaned, hugging her knees to your chest and resting her head on them.

The couple of them got out, Misty sending a small wave Nat’s way. She acknowledged it. She really did, with a barely noticeable smile.

“Hey, Quigley!” Van called out, tapping her on the shoulder.

“What’s up?” Misty asked all too enthusiastically, turning around to look at her.

“Well your BPM around Nat, apparently.” She said quieter, putting her hands on her hips as she studied the other girl’s expression. Van looked very amused, and had the “knew it!” expression. Tai and her did bet on chores when they talked about it - Van insisted that Misty had a thing for Natalie.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Misty shot back.

She did.

“Are you kidding? You were practically drooling when she took your hand!” Van said with an amused cackle.

“Okay- you can’t tell anyone!” Misty relented, her voice dropping to a whisper-yell.

“I won’t, don’t worry. It’s very sweet.” Van said, though Misty picked up on the slight mockery.

“Yeah, okay. I knew I shouldn’t have told you, you’ll just make fun of me.” She said in a slightly shaky tone, and for some unforeseen reason, it made Van feel slightly bad.

”Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound that way, god knows I was a dork when I crushed on Tai.” Van soothed with an apologetic glance.

“It’s fine. Thank you for the apology.” Misty replied. Before the redhead could muster a reply, they were cut off by none other than Natalie stepping out of her hut.

“Speak of the devil.”

“Attention! Look, we need to get on this, we can’t just have her wander around. After everything we heard last night, she can’t be out there all alone.” Nat called out to the girls as they gathered.

“What do you mean?” Gen asked, sending down a bucket of water.

“Mari didn’t come home last night.” Tai replied in a bored tone, laced with worry.

“How didn’t you know that?” Someone else exclaimed before Nat cut them off.

“Enough! Now that we all know she’s missing, we need to look for her! I’m not fucking joking, she could be in serious danger.” She scandalized, entirely fed up with them all.

No one spoke for a moment after that.

“Fine, I’m gonna find Mari. Who’s with me?” Natalie asked, looking around for any volunteers.

Van slightly kicked Misty’s leg in a “Raise your hand!” gesture, as if she wasn’t going to already. Indeed, her arm flew up. She felt both hurt and disappointed when Nat seemed annoyed by the gesture.

“Shauna. You’re coming with me.” She directed, though it didn’t do much for the brunette.

“I’m not looking for her. Fuck Mari.” Shauna seethed, seeming offended Natalie even had the nerve to ask.

It made Misty a little giddy now, knowing she had no choice but to go with her. Van shot her a knowing look and a grin. “I’m coming too!” Misty cheered, clasping her hands together once she got up.

“We’re going right?” Tai asked.

“Yeah, but not with them.” Van replied, already heading to the woods.

“Obviously.”

—————

“Where do you think she went?” Misty asked, following Nat like a puppy. They had been walking for some time now, and Misty attempted casual conversation more than once, even when Nat didn’t seem to engage.

“Well we know Mari skipped dinner and there’s berries that way, so…” Natalie replied flatly.

“Oh smart! Decisive.” Misty called out, staying quiet for a moment. “You know, if there’s anything you wanna talk about, we can-“

“Well, when Travis and I went hunting we didn’t really talk, we just kind of quietly…” Natalie said, looking down at her feet.

Oh yeah, she knew what they did, it wasn’t talking. Didn’t like it. She decided to change the topic.

“Too many people have disappeared without a trace. Crystal…Coach Scott.” She knew it was a risky mention, but went with it.

“Mm, fuck Coach Scott.” Nat retorted, pursing her lips with an eye roll.

“Do you think that he’s dead? Do you think he definitely burned the cabin down?” Misty inquired further.

Natalie stayed quiet. The truth was, it was a difficult topic for her. More so then any of them really. But long live the Scatorccio name, she’d never admit it.

“He always believed in you, you know. I think he’d be really proud of what you built.” Misty said with no ill intention, yet it scratched Nat’s brain differently.

‘Proud.’ As if anyone was ever truly proud of her. Not her dad, not Travis, not Coach Scott. Misty was proud, Natalie didn’t know it. She payed no attention to it.

“Coach Scott didn’t know shit about me, we basically never spoke.” She shot back at the girl, speeding along.

“Wait wait!” Misty ran up, placing a hand on Nat’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to add salt to the wound or anything! I just thought you’d wanna know-“

Natalie wanted to be like the others, just tell her to fuck off and roll her eyes, she really did. But that’s simply not who she was, especially around Misty for some reason. The girl was annoying and overbearing to no end, but for she intrigued her. It was a mystery as to why, yet it still happened every time they would talk.

“It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. And I shouldn’t have snapped.” She interjected, scratching her head. It wasn’t an apology but it was pretty damn close - more then Misty every heard.

“Oh, yeah…thank you.” Misty chipped, awkwardly letting her hand drip from Nat’s shoulder.

She looked into the half-blonde’s eyes. They were gorgeous, green, and it complimented her fair skin tone so well. Her hair may have been grown out, but it’s the most beautiful Misty’s ever seen it. Somehow, Nat was also still soft to the touch. Maybe the summer humidity worked in her favor, she thought, but her own callouses were simply outnumbered. Not that she wouldn’t kiss those as well, as little as Nat has them.

“We should carry on.” Natalie said softly. She could see Misty studying her, not looking or checking her out. Genuinely looking over her and mapping out her features. Natalie also thought it was simple admiration.

She stayed quiet due to the mutual, unsaid agreement between them. That Natalie was someone to be proud of.

—————

With all the productive conversation they had, Mari was still a no show for anyone that looked for her. Bummed that their efforts were fruitless, the Yellowjackets settled back into their humble abodes.

“So, how’d it go with…y’know?” Van questioned as Misty came along.

“Well we didn’t find Mari.” Misty said as she set her bag down.

“Yeah, that sucks, but I’m asking what happened with Nat?” Van asked, can you blame her for being invested? There was absolutely no harmless drama in that forest anymore, this is all she could het right now! And the two of them getting together would be as funny as it would be cute, why wouldn’t she wanna participate in that?

“I don’t know, okay?! She definitely doesn’t like me back. I don’t wanna get my hopes up about something that I know won’t happen.” She bellowed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You don’t know anything! Everyone is so horny out here, I saw Melissa and Gen humping each other by the lake.” Van argued back, seeing how the girl’s eyes glimmered with a bit of hope. “I’m just saying, nothing is impossible. If I got Taissa you could get Madonna.”

“You really think I can do this?” Misty bugged, there was never enough praise or reassurance for her.

“Sure, why not? And hey- worst case scenario is she rejects you, which is what you’re expecting anyway.” Van stated bluntly, taking a seat next to her.

They observed Natalie as she talked to Tai across camp, seemingly making a plan for finding Mari the next day. Covering more ground, going south, that sort of thing.

“She’s so pretty.” Misty declared, looking at Natalie as if she hung the moon and the stars. It was the way she thought of her anyway.

Van could only give her a knowing glance from the side. Really, she knew the feeling all too well.

—————

The morning soon came, and with it more worry for Mari’s disappearance. There was no sign of her, and they were all preparing for the inevitable, though no one had in them to voice it.

Natalie got up early. Too early for her liking, but she had a lot on her mind. Yes, her missing friend was not a comforting thought, but what unfortunately lingered the most was the conversation she had with none other than Misty Quigley.

She chose not to think of the hand that lingered on her shoulder for a moment too long, yet her very words. Did she really think coach would be proud of her or was she saying it to get on her good side, just like she tried with everyone else? Natalie asked herself as she stared at the pointy ceiling that gave away a couple rays of sunlight.

But this time, she seemed so raw and authentic, and nothing like what the other girls saw of her. Misty wasn’t the annoying or overbearing girl everyone knew her to be in that moment - she was caring not conniving. Wasn’t plotting a way to be accepted but giving her true reassurance. It hit Natalie harder then it should have

She hated how it made her feel. How feeling seen, even by Misty fucking Quigley made her stomach flutter and an involuntary, tiny smile stretch over her face. Jesus Christ she wasn’t actually smiling over Misty Quigley!

Whatever, Nat chose to ignore her emotions yet again and decided she needed fresh air and a cold splash of water on her face.

Once she did get down to the lake, with Nat’s great luck, Misty appeared to be there too.

“Oh, hey! Why are you up, it’s only now sunrise?” Misty called out, turning to look at Nat.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Natalie gruffly answered, taking a seat beside her.

“Nightmare?” Misty questioned, far too chipper at this hour.

“Something like that. Why are you up?” Nat pondered quietly, glancing up at her.

“I always get up early. I don’t like wasting the day.”

“Right.”

They sat in silence for a long moment yet surprisingly, Natalie was the one to break it.

“Did you mean what you said yesterday? About Coach…?” She inquired in a soft, unsure tone. It made Misty’s heart melt.

“Of course I meant it. How could I not? Anyone would be proud of you, much less him! You were his favorite.” Misty reassured still as her hyper self, though she toned it down a little. The air between them seemed charged, with what, only god knows.

“You’re an amazing leader. Don’t let Shauna or anyone make you believe anything else.” Misty added with a firm tone, her eyes boring through Natalie’s face. She still didn’t look at her.

“Thank you.” She muttered anyway, not letting her tears show.

Misty noticed, she always did. Always would.

Without thinking twice she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Nat’s laden, slender frame. She felt like absolute heaven in her grip, even her soft sobs and watery eyes were like renaissance art for Misty to explore and interpret in her own way.

As if she was everyone else’s in theory but hers alone right now. Natalie was hers to appreciate and nurture as would be a sagging lamb. She almost was, in a way.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s gonna be better, I promise. If anything I’ll make it better…” Misty cooed, circling her arms around Nat’s neck, hands coming out to soothingly scratch her scalp.

Natalie’s were protectively crossed over her chest, yet she made no move to pull away. Simply enough, she curled up in Misty’s hold as hot tears streamed down her face. She was quiet, letting out small sighs and whimpers as she wept.

The moment was abruptly broken by a cheering commotion back at their camp, making them both whip their heads up. Their looks of confusion soon disappeared once they heard none other than Mari’s voice.

Misty took the liberty to wipe the stray wetness that lingered on Nat’s face before helping her get up on her feet. Without another word they hurried along, two minutes felt like hours with all the anticipation running through their veins.

"Mari!" Misty yelled out, running up to the girl. She looked absolutley exhausted and in pain - god knows what even happened to her.

"Thank god you're okay! I mean thank the dirt or whatever- I'm so glad you're not dead." She urged with a laugh that got returned, Natalie moving to stand behind them.

"Where were you?" Charged Shauna, coming in with all her angry glory.

"I walked back to civilization so I could fuck your dad!" Mari chided in a sarcastic tone.

"She fell in a hole and fucked up her knee." Taissa answered instead.

"I dislocated it. Like the girl we played from Manasquan last year. The kneecap was back here and I had to push it all the way in."

"Oh!" "Ew!"

"The hole was like- twenty feet deep, I thought I was gonna die in there! Like Baby Jessica!"

"Baby Jessica didn't die."

"And that was a well."

"A well's a hole." Mari finished off before being abruptly interrupted by Shauna.

"If your knee was so fucked, how'd you get out?" Shauna mockingly inquired after which followed a long silence.

She looked around the girls which returned skeptical looks, expecting a believable answer. Once she realized she couldn’t come up with one, she went with the truth and hoped for the best.

"Coach Scott found me...he tied me up and took me to this cave he's been living in." Mari finally explained, earning gasps that came from sheer disbelief.

Natalie’s chest almost felt like it was in her throat “Fuck.” She muttered, out of fear or rapture, she wasn’t sure, and it was a thin line.

"I knew it! He's totally lost it" Van grumbled with a scoff.

"You don't know that!" Misty defended. Not coach, for Natalie.

"Dude he tied her up and took her to his lair!" Van tried to reason again, though their bickering was soon over

"Can you find your way back?"

—————

After the whole ordeal, as they were getting ready to head off Misty sat in her hut, packing a few necessities. She heard a slight ruffle outside, revealing herself to be Van as she entered.

“So, I saw you were with Nat when Mari came back.” Van prodded with peaking curiosity, sitting down on the hard ground barely covered by a lanky sleeping bag.

“Yeah, so what?” Misty tried to play it off, the slight red hue of her cheeks becoming quite obvious.

“Well…any game?” Van inquired, wanting to coax a satisfying answer. She was living for this, truly.

“No, not really. I mean she was super upset so I hugged her and stuff, but that’s it.” Misty replied dreadfully, zipping her backpack in quite an aggressive manner.

“Dude what?! Natalie hugged you? You do realize that’s like - a huge deal, right?” Van scandalized in a whisper - yell, leaning in in immense interest.

“What do you mean?” Misty asked hurriedly, setting her bag down as her investment skyrocketed.

“Are you joking? Do you know how fucking rare it is for Nat to show someone she’s upset, let alone hug them?” Van exclaimed with a dry laugh.

“Wait, really?”

“Damn, you might be better at this than we thought.” Van jested with a sly grin, pressing her back flat against the hut’s wall yet again. “But wait, do you know how to y’know…properly?”

“Do what now?” Misty shot back, tone laced with confusion.

“Kiss, Quiggles. Do you know how to make out? Other lessons you’ll learn along the way.”

Oh.

“I mean- I tried, with this boy once. But we were little, maybe eleven. And it was tongueless.” Misty replied with a bit of embarrassment, but mostly a strange sort of engagement.

“Seriously? Nat likes good kissers.” Van murmured in a small question. “How about I teach you?” She blurted out all too casually.

“What? What do you mean teach me?” Misty quietly implored.

“I mean kiss you, teach you to kiss.”

“Seriously? Won’t Taissa be mad?” She bugged, cheeks beet red.

“She’ll be fine, she knows. So you good to do this?” Van dismissed and asked, that fucking grin still on her face.

“Yeah, sure.”

Van nodded carefully, now taking a gentler approach towards the girl. She spread out her legs in front of her, silently urging her to climb into her lap. Misty takes the hint, carefully straddling Van’s lower thighs, almost where her knees arch.

Van was slightly amused and chuckled at Misty’s nervousness, though she didn’t say anything to make it tougher on her. Instead, she leaned forward, inches away from her chapped, pink lips.

She took a moment for Misty to get comfortable and take a deep breath before snaking her hand to the back of her neck, angling closer until their lips met.

At first, it was a soft, close mouthed press against each other’s lips. They lingered there for a moment until Misty took the liberty to place her hands gently on Van’s hips.

From there it slightly escalated, as Misty parted her lips in a soft gasp, Van took the opportunity to envelop the girl’s top lip between her own. The action repeated as they both got touchier, breathing heavier.

Misty tried her luck, slipping her tongue past Van’s entrance. Surprisingly, Van let her, swirling her own against it in a swift, practiced dance.

All Misty could think about was Natalie. What gave her confidence was imagining it all being her. Her imagination knew no bounds normally either, so how could it in a moment like this?

In her very mind, the scenario was much different. She pictured Nat, in all her leather jacket glory, pulling her into her lap and crashing her lips against hers like there was no tomorrow. Like there wouldn’t be tomorrow if she hadn’t. It was what Misty wanted the most, really, to feel needed by Natalie, and god was her head running wild right now.

Van’s mouth against hers never relented, letting her feel the moment out. They found a nice, slow and sensual rhythm the more they went on. It might’ve been the funnest teaching moment Misty ever had, really. Second to the first aid class she took sophomore year, of course.

“Is everyone ready?” Shauna shouted out, making them both jump.

Misty was abruptly taken out of her imaginary haze, wide eyed and flushed once she pulled away. Van gave a her a soft giggle before pushing her off her lap, getting up and ready for the journey.

It was a long one indeed, once they reached the very crucial clearing the sun had already set. Mari needed many breaks due to her leg, and it was too hot to go fast anyhow. Everyone felt a rush of panic once Mari stopped, standing confused as to where she’s supposed to go.

”For fucks sake, really?” Tai barked at her.

“I’m not lost okay? I’m just remembering.” She replied, looking around.

“Hey, it’s okay, take your time. You got this.” Came from none other than Shauna. Surprising at first glance perhaps, yet obvious with her intent.

After much exhausting walking and the group bonding over jelly legs and excessive blisters, all of them arrived to the almighty cave.

"That's it! Over here!" Mari exclaimed in excitement as they all gathered around.

"Shauna wait!" Misty jumped in, "We're really gonna just...go in?" She asked, entirely skeptical of the situation.

"What did you think we were gonna do? What do you think happens when we go inside? You guys, we don't have to do this." Natalie tried one last time, though her efforts proved to be fruitless.

"Yeah, we do."

"Fine. I'm going first - you two stand guard, if you see anything just scream your asses off." Nat stated, and everyone complied without a question.

Like a dumb action movie hero she went in first, protecting her group. Misty went in right behind her as well as the other girls.

Pretty soon they were blocked - in Shauna and Akilah's opinion a diversion made by Ben, yet in Nat's a collapse.

They stood there, doing the only thing they all knew how to - argue pointlessly.

"It's a double bluff, like in that movie with the two guys!"

"The Princess Bride?"

"How the fuck do you know that?"

"We should try both. Shauna, you Van and Akilah take the open path, the rest of us will try to clear out what we can here. Take two lanterns, we'll take the other three and if you run into trouble just get loud, we'll do the same." Natalie commanded quite like she was born for it, with which they parted ways.

Misty inevitably stayed by Nat's side all the way as they searched with no sign of hope. It only got harder the more tired they got, and none could seem to pound down the large mass of rocks piled up in the cave's corridor.

“Do you think he’s in here?” She asked her, holding one of the lanterns for them both.

“I don’t know.” Nat commented, entirely unsure of it all.

“Do you want him to be?” Misty striked again. This girl just always knew how to push Natalie’s buttons.

“They won’t kill him if you don’t let them.” Misty said in a hushed tone to prevent the others from hearing.

Natalie didn’t say anything, because she truly didn’t know what the hell would happen. If Shauna found him first who knows what she would do? God knows she isn’t waiting for permission.

It seemed impossible, clearing it all out. Also seemed as if there was nothing there anymore, as if a black hole enveloped them.

That was at least all until they heard yelling at the other side, fucking Ben, nonetheless.

Hurriedly the girls followed the sound, meeting with a mix of panicky and drowsy Shauna, Akilah and Van and a very roughed up Ben.

Natalie immediately approached him, pointing the rifle right at his chest, "Sorry coach, you're coming with us." The way she said it was kinda hot, Misty thought, but now was not the time.

The walk back was packed with tension. It was quiet and uncomfortable with occasional grumbles between friends.

Misty was there for Natalie. While she had to police their supposedly psychotic coach, she was there by her side, not letting her do it on her own.

“You’re being really brave, Nat.” She mumbled, rubbing Nat’s arm in a quick, comforting motion.

Natalie stayed quiet again - and Misty didn’t take it badly. The reason is because Nat has a specific look she gets when she’s appreciative or obviously reassured, and in that moment, it was painted all over her face.

Putting Ben down in the animal pen, everyone went off to sleep in terrible exhaustion.

—————

Misty caught sight of Natalie sitting by the fire, not yet putting it out. She had a blanket loosely wrapped around her, shielding her from the slight wind that went along every night. It was a nice change from the constant warmth, like a caressing, soft hand easing another one of their troubles.

Troubles, with which Nat seemed to deal with right now. She was sulking, shoulders hunched with quite a sad look in her eye that you barely see. No resentment, no anger. Simple and utter sadness.

“Nat?” Misty approached slowly, careful not to disturb her in case she wanted to be by herself.

“Yeah?” She answered faintly, keeping her eye on the swaying flames in front of her. Before she got stuck out here, she never noticed how interesting fire was.

“Do you wanna talk?” Misty tried again, wrapping her arms around herself - an action she took when she felt afraid of being ostracized or dismissed yet again. Somehow, she never got used to it.

Natalie simply shook her head, and with a tinge of disappointment, Misty slowly walked back to her hut - before she got stopped, that is.

“You can stay. I mean - will you?” Natalie hoped, raising her head to lock her eyes with Misty’s.

Misty, as if on autopilot, frantically nodded before settling down next to the very bane of her existence. Dramatic, maybe? But then again, she got reject more times then she could count, it only made sense for her to be cautious and fearsome.

The couple of them sat in silence - not sure if it was a comfortable one. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either. Only sound that could be heard was the soft cackle of the fire, casting a warm orange glow over their faces.

Misty glanced to the side, taking note of Natalie’s lineaments. She looked gorgeous in this light, a true undiscovered beauty that made Misty write poetry with her eyes. Nat’s features were more prominent, shining with the acedia of her own actions. The girl would always find a way to blame herself.

Then there was Misty. Not studied, but very thought of. Natalie pondered about her, she could feel her gaze burning holes onto the side of her face, unsure and wondering. She felt wrong and embarrassed for the way she felt, yet the more she tried to push it away, the bigger the feeling got. Why Misty Quigley, out of everyone? Why is she the one to make her feel so safe and accepted? How did she make her feel so secure just this morning, with a hug and a couple sweet nothings? How did her presence make her feel calmer?

“Misty I-“ She started, feeling conflicted and confused.

“What is it?” Misty asked with a tinge of unease.

“I don’t know.” Nat whispered, more to herself than the other girl.

Her eyes stayed glued to the scene in front of her, even though her mind ran insane. What was this feeling and why is it what she felt for Travis before they got together? How is it even possible? She dared not say the word that lingered in her thoughts and without better thinking, she lunged forward and pressed her lips firmly against Misty’s.

Neither of them could believe it, really. Misty was surprised to no end, yet she didn’t back away, as if she ever would. It was what she’d dreamt of for months- Natalie. It was what she dreamt of for years- to be seen. The kiss stretched on, going from a soft brush to a deep mess in seconds, it was primal in a way.

Natalie’s fingers locked in Misty’s curls, making her let out a small, involuntary whine as her grip on the blanket tightened.

All good things do come to an end, and this one’s just so happened to be once Nat pulled away.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets thoughts 💭#yj season 3 #yellowjackets showtime #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio thoughts 💭#nat scatorccio #misty quigley #mistynat #misty yellowjackets #misty quigley thoughts 💭#van palmer #van palmer thoughts 💭

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christopherisfoive · 2 days ago

Note

omgg hii 🐰🩵 can you please make one with Minho using prompts 19, 4, and 5? it would be highly appreciated, thank you!

Thank you so much for sending in this prompt request, angel! I absolutely loved writing this one—Minho + fake dating + a little jealousy? Yes, please ♡

૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა

“Just act normal,” you mutter under your breath, looping your arm through Minho’s as you walk into the party.

He snorts. “You? Normal? Good luck with that.”

You elbow him. “You’re the one who agreed to this fake dating thing, remember?”

“Because you begged,” he says, smirking. “All clingy and desperate.”

You give him a sugar-sweet smile. “I said you’d get free drinks and an excuse to not talk to anyone.”

“Same thing.”

You roll your eyes as you both step into the packed living room. The plan was simple: fake date each other for a few events so you could get your friends off your back, and Minho could avoid the girl who kept trying to “accidentally” sit on his lap during game night.

Easy.

Until it wasn’t.

Because now you’re here, and someone is flirting with you, and Minho is watching from across the room with a stare so cold it could snap steel.

You excuse yourself quickly, walking straight over to him.

“Everything okay?” you ask casually.

“Peachy,” he says, biting into a chip like it wronged him.

You raise an eyebrow. “You look like you want to fight someone.”

“Just enjoying the view,” he replies, then glances down at your arm. “Though apparently anyone can enjoy it now.”

You blink. “Wait—are you actually mad?”

Minho shrugs, looking away. “Why would I be?”

You pause. “Excuse me?”

He turns back to you slowly, eyes darker now. “You heard me.”

“Minho,” you say, laughing nervously. “It’s fake. We’re fake.”

He steps closer, tone dipping somewhere between smug and serious. “You keep saying it’s fake, but then you act like I belong to you.”

Your heart lurches. “I do not.”

Minho arches a brow. “No? Because earlier, when that guy was talking to you, you looked at me like you expected me to do something about it.”

You frown. “Because you looked like you were going to murder him with a napkin.”

He leans in, close enough that your breath catches. “You didn’t stop me though. Kind of looked like you wanted me to lose it. Like you wanted your boyfriend to put someone in their place.”

Your heart skips. “Boyfriend?”

His voice is low, deliberate. “Yeah. You’re mine.”

Silence.

Then you murmur, barely above a whisper, “Did you just call me yours?”

You suck in a breath.

“I—no. You—”

“You didn’t deny it,” he says, and his lips twitch like he’s already won.

“You didn’t either,” you shoot back, trying to sound smug but failing miserably because your voice wobbles.

He tilts his head, studying you. “So what now?”

You swallow. “I don’t know.”

He smirks. “Wanna find out?”

And just like that, fake becomes real—with a kiss you never saw coming, and a look in his eyes that says maybe it was never fake at all.

You should’ve pulled away. You didn’t.

And now his lips are still ghosting over yours. His hand lingers at your waist. Your fingers are knotted in his hoodie like you forgot how to let go.

“I think that counts as breaking the fake dating contract,” you mumble, dazed.

“Cool. Sue me,” Minho says, not moving an inch.

You finally blink up at him. “So, what does this mean?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“You started it.”

“You didn’t stop it.”

“I didn’t want to.”

That shuts you up.

Minho’s eyes soften, just barely. “Look, if you’re freaking out, just say it. But don’t pretend this didn’t mean anything.”

You’re still grasping at words when his voice drops.

“I don’t want to fake it anymore.”

Silence. Then—

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face. “Why did you have to make it serious?”

Minho shrugs. “Because you’re annoying and hot and now I want to kiss you all the time. Happy?”

You peek through your fingers. “Kind of.”

He grins. “So you do like me.”

“I tolerate you. Barely.”

“Mmhm. Say it again, but this time without the smile.”

You smack his arm.

He catches your hand—and this time, he doesn’t let go.

It’s only been a few days since you and Minho stopped pretending—and somehow, that made everything worse.

Not in the bad way. In the hyper-aware, flustered every five seconds way.

You’d thought the fake dating version of Minho was intense. But the real one? The one who whispered things at your neck when no one was looking, who gripped your waist like someone might steal you if he didn’t?

He was lethal.

So when another guy from class leans a little too close to you at a campus event, Minho’s at your side in less than five seconds.

“Hey,” the guy says, glancing at Minho, then back at you. “Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

You open your mouth, but Minho speaks first.

“She is.”

His voice is calm. Flat. Deadly.

The guy blinks. “Right. Cool. My bad.”

He backs off.

Minho doesn’t move. He’s still looking at you like the guy had tried to touch you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Possessive much?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You snort. “He was asking if I wanted a cookie.”

“He was asking if he could be your cookie.”

You laugh, then lean in. “You jealous?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

You’re still reeling when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

Then he murmurs against your temple, “Next time, I’m kissing you first. Just so there’s no confusion.”

Your pulse spikes.

You try to sound unimpressed. “So dramatic.”

Minho smirks. “And you love it.”

#skz requests #lee know #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know oneshot #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #author jules ღ #request for jules ☁︎

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oofmybad · 2 days ago

Note

Billie and reader are so disgustingly in love that they constantly say pick up lines to each other. They get more nasty as the fic progresses 🫦

Pick up lines

hi love! thank you for sending in a request, here it isssss. honestly, i’m so bad at coming up with puns so google was my best friend.

warnings: fluff, suggestive puns

~~~~~~~~

“billie!” you yell, putting your hand out in front of you, “stop taking pictures of me.

“i need proof that angels really do exist” billie repsonds, a much-too-pleased smirk on her face.

“proud of that one?” you ask.

“very.” billie nods as she finally puts her phone back into her pocket, pulling you in for a kiss.

***

missing billie while she’s away on tour, you pick up your phone and go to her contact, clicking on the facetime icon.

after a short ring, billie’s beautiful face emerges on your screen, the lens close to her mouth as she says, “hi pretty girl!”

you smile in return, “hi baby, i miss you.”

“i miss you too, angel. i’ll be home in a couple days” billie coos, her lips now in a pout.

“are you a charger?… ‘cause i’m dying without you” you utter out, stiffling a laugh.

“that one’s so bad, y/n!” billie cackles into the phone, her eyes lighting up at your goofy remark.

“made’ya smile though” you cheese, pleased with yourself.

***

stood in the kitchen, stirring the pot of stew that you’d made for you and billie, you suddenly feel a pair of cold hands wrap around your waist.

“mmm, smells so good, baby” billie mumbles in your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“oh yeah? wanna taste it?” you ask, implication laced in your voice.

billie simply slaps your ass in faux disapproval before walking away and waiting in the living room.

***

the two of you have dinner plans with finch and claudia tonight, so you’re both getting ready on your individual sides of the bedroom.

you dig through your closet in search for the perfect pants to wear. landing on a pair of y2k low-rise skinny jeans, you pull them from the hanger and drape them on your vanity chair.

you pull down your booty shorts and put on the jeans. since they’re so tight, you have to fight with them to get them on. as you’re attempting to pull them over your ass, the fat is splurging out over the top.

from the the other side of the room, you hear an overzealous voice, “are those pants from outer space, ‘cause your ass is out of this world.”

you let go of the belt loops and drop your hands by your side. looking over to billie, you give her a side eye and a look of pure annoyance.

“quit playing and make yourself useful” you huff.

“my pleasure, baby. anything to get closer to that ass of yours” bill continues her teasing as she walks over to you.

***

your favorite movie is playing on the tv across from the bed. you and billie are lying there snuggled together. but with each passing moment, billie proceeds to get more handsy.

out of nowhere, billie pushes her lips next to your ear, “i put skittles in my panties”.

you giggle at billies words, utterly confused, “what?”

“wanna taste the rainbow, baby?” billie whispers.

“i should’ve known this was a ploy” you cackle as you climb over billie, straddling her waist.

reading your body language, billie looks you up and down, “is that a yes, then?”

“always.”

#billie eilish #billie #lesbian #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x y/n #billie x reader #billie x you #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish blurb #requests #anonymous #anon

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august-anon · 2 days ago

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Brothers Bound in Revenge

Brother's in Arms series: 1 - 2 (you are here)

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It's finally done!! Definitely wound up longer than I meant it to lol, but I have no regrets. As usual, I have barely edited this. Also, I have still barely read any comics yet (working on it) so these will be very fanon characterizations.

While I already wanted to write a sequel for Brothers Forged in Laughter, ao3 user sweetlikesalt solidified the idea with this comment of theirs, so everyone say thank you lol:

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Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity)

Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Jason & Lers!Tim and Dick (plus VERY brief ler!Jason, and lees!Tim and Dick)

Word Count: 6106 words (how did this wind up LONGER than the last one sdkjfh)

Summary: Jason's figuring out how to be family again, and learning how to be a big brother. Dick decides he needs to be reminded what it's like to be a little brother, too -- along with letting Tim get a little revenge.

[ao3 link]

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“Are you coming to family dinner this week?”

The Red Hood bit back a sigh – not that the voice modulator in his helmet would have necessarily picked it up – and kept his back to Robin, focusing instead on the gang members loitering beneath his ledge.

“Don’t know about that, Robin,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “Sorry.”

Aside from his little bonding moment with the new bird, his first (and last) family dinner didn’t go so well. It was tense and awkward, Bruce asking stilted, surface level questions that turned more and more pointed as the night went on. Dick and Tim tried to buffer him, and even Alfred admonished him a couple times, but Bruce always managed to circle back. Dessert ended early with a screaming match and Jason storming back down to the Cave to his motorcycle before anyone could chase after him and convince him to try and patch things up. He’d missed the past two family dinners since, and had avoided the Batcave as much as he possibly could.

It always came down to the same things with Bruce. Jason was reckless, dangerous, out of control and, as always, it was Bruce’s responsibility to curb, calm, and corral him. Bruce’s responsibility to rehabilitate him, as if Jason needed to be rehabilitated at all. He’d dropped the crime lord thing almost as soon as his plan for Bruce to kill the Joker blew up in his face (literally), and it wasn’t like the bodies he’d been dropping since were without merit. No one would miss those scum – abusers, pedophiles, serial murderers. Batman needed to learn that not everyone was capable of being saved.

“Are you sure?” Robin asked, creeping up to crouch beside him on the ledge. “Agent A misses you.”

The we miss you went unsaid. Hood knew he’d dropped the ball with his brothers since that dinner. Avoiding that Batcave (and the Manor) meant avoiding them by extension, since he was too wary of Bruce stalking their lines of communication to give them directions to any of his safehouses. Not to mention the fact that he moved between them so frequently that it would be difficult for them to keep up with where he was staying, anyways. He’d just started becoming family to Tim, and he almost immediately left the kid high and dry. Some big brother he was.

“Tell him I’ll try to come by soon.”

Robin hummed noncommittally, clearly seeing through Hood’s attempt to placate him. This time, Hood did sigh, the helmet translating it into static, and reached over to ruffle Robin’s hair. He resisted the urge to dig his fingers into one of the softer joints of Robin’s armor – his targets would absolutely hear that squeaking laughter.

“Tell you what, kid – I could use some help, here. Wanna help me take this group down?”

Robin perked up, sending a grin in his direction.

“Just make sure to leave one awake – we need to know where their boss is.”

“You got it.”

“On three. One, two–”

* * *

Nightwing didn’t even try to be stealthy as he landed behind the Red Hood, practically skipping across the rooftop to plop himself on the edge next to him. Hood didn’t spare him a glance, keeping his gaze firmly locked on the clouds above, as if he could see beyond them to the stars above. Though Gotham was his home, he couldn’t help but feel a bit homesick for the shine of the stars. He’d seen so many when he was with Talia and the LoA, but between Gotham’s constantly shit weather and all the light pollution, he hadn’t seen a single one since he returned.

“If you’re here about dinner,” Hood said, “I already told the little bird ‘no.’”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nightwing shrug. “Figured. I’m not going to try and convince you.”

“Really?” He said flatly.

In his peripheral, he saw Nightwing turn to stare at him. Hood kept his gaze forward. He’d taken his helmet off for a breath of fresh air, and having little more than a domino mask to protect his expressions made him feel far too exposed at the moment. At least the profile view added some sort of barrier to reading him.

“When I was close to your age, I didn’t exactly want to be around B most of the time either. There was a reason I moved out, and there was a reason I always made myself so busy with the Titans.”

Hood let out a long breath. “You’re around a lot more now than you used to be”

Nightwing finally turned away, looking down at his hands clasped between his knees. “It’s one of my biggest regrets, letting my shit relationship with B affect my relationship with you. When I did come by, it was mostly to see you – steal you away, teach you to be Robin, sneak out for train-hopping.”

Hood didn’t know what to say. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“With Robin, it still took me a while to get over myself, but I didn’t want to make the same mistakes twice. I overcompensated for a while before finding my balance.” He chuckled. “It drove Robin crazy sometimes. I was just so scared to lose another brother, especially without him knowing how much I cared about him. Me and B… we came to an understanding – at least, for the most part – over time, with me being around so often again.”

Guilt churned deep in Hood’s stomach. “Nightwing–”

Nightwing shook his head. “I’m not saying you have to come around. Honestly, stay away for as long as you need. Sometimes I still can’t even stand to be around him, no matter how much we’ve grown or how much I care about him. That’s probably why it hurts so much.” Nightwing turned to stare at him again, and this time Hood couldn’t keep himself from looking in Nightwing’s direction. “But don’t lock us out too just because B can’t get his righteous head out of his ass.”

Don’t make my mistakes, Hood heard underneath.

“Yeah,” was all Hood could manage.

They sat in silence for a bit longer before Hood heard the tell-tale buzz of a distant comm line. Nightwing raised his hand to his ear, likely for Hood’s benefit because Hood knew that’s not how the Bat-comms operated, and said, “I’m on my way.”

“Duty calls?”

Nightwing shot him a strained grin. “When doesn’t it?” His smile became a bit more natural as he scrubbed his hand over Hood’s head, making his helmet-hair even worse. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Red Hood didn’t have a chance to reply as Nightwing dove off the building, shooting out his grapnel line halfway through his fall. He waited until Nightwing disappeared in the smog before shoving his helmet back on. The Bats could handle the rest of the city, but Crime Alley wasn’t going to protect itself.

* * *

Jason got himself a phone.

He had plenty of phones, honestly – enough burners to cover all his bases and then some, and he frequently dumped and replaced them. This phone though, it was his first personal phone since he came back. He made sure to pass it off to Barbara first, get it souped up with all the Bat-grade protections it could possibly need, and with her sincere promise that Bruce himself wouldn’t have any way into the device despite that.

When she returned it, she’d done more than just upgrade his security. Where his contacts before had been a blank slate, there was now a neat list of five names. He flipped through them, changing four of the contact names to be much less formal. Opening the final contact, he hovered his thumb over the “Delete” button for several long minutes before letting out a slew of swears and closing out of the contacts app, leaving that final contact untouched.

He shot off quick texts to Dick and Tim, nothing more than a “Hey, it’s Jason.” and got a set of responses back almost immediately. Dick was a spam-texter, it seemed, cheering through his messages and telling Jason it was “about damn time” he got a phone. Tim sent him only two messages in reply. A brief “ew” and a follow-up of “you text with proper grammar??”

From that day on, there was not a single moment where Jason was free of his brothers. Dick started sending him dozens of TikToks a day (where he found the time to scroll TikTok so much in-between his day job and the vigilantism, Jason had no idea), practically forcing Jason to download the app just to keep up, as much as he despised social media. He was loathe to admit it, but every once in a while, some of the videos Dick sent him were actually kind of funny.

Tim, on the other hand, seemed to get a kick out of sending Jason memes that he either wasn’t alive to see come about, or he was stuck with the League at the time with no knowledge of the current popular culture. He communicated almost exclusively through them, and Jason knew it was intentional to get under his nerves. It felt like he was trying to translate hieroglyphics at times, and whenever he asked Dick or Barbara for help, they just laughed at him.

And then, a few weeks in, the invites started coming through.

A new coffee shop just opened up in the Bowery, you in? Jason was never getting coffee with Tim again after that, because holy shit, was his order horrific.

There’s this adult arcade downtown — you in? Jason knew that they were the heirs to a billionaire, but he still couldn’t fathom the amount of money Dick spent on goddamn claw games. And somehow, he won every time. Jason didn’t even know where to put all the plushies Dick forced on him after that trip.

Bowling?? Steph said this place is actually only marginally sketchy. Jason and his brothers were now banned from the bowling alley.

Okay so bowling was a bust — roller-skating? Jason and Tim were now banned from the skating rink. Dick somehow got off scott-free. Jason blamed the puppy-dog eyes.

* * *

Even once he and Bruce were on speaking terms again, the invites didn’t stop – which was how Jason found himself making the drive to Bludhaven one evening. Dick decided that they were due for a movie night, and since Jason was still avoiding the Manor itself, he’d decided that the next best place would be his own apartment.

They ordered some absolute monstrosities from the nearby pizza joint (Dick’s pineapple and andouille pizza was always horrifying, but at least Jason had been prepared for it – Tim’s Canadian bacon pizza with onions and artichoke hearts, Jason never wanted to see again), and Dick left the two of them to pick the movie while he went to pick up the pizza.

Of course, the little snot was nothing if not an absolute nerd, and most of his suggestions were weird sci-fi shit. As if they didn’t get enough of that with their gallery of doctorate-wielding Rogues and their insane fucking inventions. Then again – Jason had the perfect solution to get what he wanted out of the kid.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Tim shrieked in-between frantice giggling, trying to pry Jason’s hands off his sides.

Jason hummed. “Dick would be very disappointed in you when he got back if you did.”

Tim managed to twist out of his grip, throwing himself across the rug to create distance between them. “What’s wrong with Interstellar anyways?”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “Don’t we deal with enough dimension-travel and time-travel shit enough in our night jobs?” He launched himself forward after Tim, ignoring the kid’s squeals as he dragged him close again. “Besides, letting you win the movie pick means I don’t get to do this.”

Jason wasted no time on this second attack, immediately digging his fingers into Tim’s highest ribs. Tim almost choked on his laughter, shrieking out a few curse words, and Jason had little doubt that Dick would have a noise complaint by the end of the night. Whatever – it wasn’t like it was Jason’s problem. No, the only thing Jason needed to worry about right now was what method made Tim laugh the hardest. Fingernails or fingertips? Wiggling or squeezing? Vibrating fingers or fast skittering? He just couldn’t decide.

Tim was practically in tears by the time he finally conceded to Jason’s movie choice, having laughed himself nearly hoarse. Just in time, too, because Dick just texted their group chat (also new – and the incessant spam of notifications that often burst from it annoyed Jason to no end) that he was on the way up.

“Just you wait,” Tim said, chest heaving and face cherry-red. “I’m gonna sic Dick on you, and then you’ll be sorry.”

Jason snorted, making himself comfortable on Dick’s lumpy-ass sofa. “Good luck with that kid. I already told you both – the Pit took care of that. I’m immune.” He gave a playfully malicious grin. “Leaves me with plenty of chances to torture you, though, don’t worry.”

The front door to the apartment banged open. “Hey – does anyone know why my neighbor just cussed me out in the hallway? I swear, he’s never looked that– Timmy? What the hell happened?”

Jason laughed.

* * *

Bruce was out of town for a few days – an actual business trip this time, no JL covers – and he took Alfred with him. Which meant that someone needed to cover Gotham for the week. Which meant that Dick was in town for an extended period of time. All of this also meant that Dick and Tim were left in the Manor unsupervised with no Alfred to keep them from burning down the kitchen.

That’s how Jason found himself being guilt-tripped into spending the week at the Manor with them, if only to ensure they didn’t survive solely off of cereal, microwave meals, and caffeine. Dick, of course, was thrilled at their “Brother Sleepover,” and promptly spent the week kicking their ass at Mario Kart. Not even Tim, in all his nerdy, geeky glory could beat him, and death had done Jason no favors with his own virtual racing skills.

Overall, despite the constant skin-crawling feelings Jason had for half the week, his stay at the Manor didn’t go horribly. Plus, it was kind of nice cooking for more than just one person. He might have to establish a more permanent safehouse so he could have his brothers (and Barbie – he’d have to make sure the elevator was actually working in whatever building he chose) over for dinner. Or maybe he’d finally try coming to another family dinner, just for the excuse of helping Alfred cook.

Either way, by the end of the week, Dick was adamant that it was about time for another brothers’ movie night. Jason rolled his eyes and put up the expected complaints (it was a familiar song and dance now – even if he didn’t mean it), but still found himself at the grocery store while Dick picked Tim up from school, picking out ingredients to make them a special dinner for the last night of their “Brother Sleepover.” He was shoving everything into the kitchen when Dick and Tim got home, Tim groaning as he entered the kitchen for a snack.

“Jason – your food is amazing and all, but can we please just get takeout tonight?”

Jason turned around, his eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“We can just order pizza instead – I won’t even get anything weird on it!”

“You’d rather have greasy takeout pizza than a home-cooked meal?” Jason crossed his arms and leaned back against the kitchen island. “You’d give Alfred a heart-attack.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never begged Alfred for takeout instead of something from home.”

Jason pursed his lips. He couldn’t exactly argue that – they all had at some point. Still, “I already got the shit, we’re eating here.”

Jason pinpointed the exact moment when Tim went from normal vigilante teenager to horribly obnoxious piece of shit. He narrowed his eyes for a moment before his expression turned to an exaggerated pout. He slumped his shoulders and gazed up at Jason with his little wounded-baby-bird eyes.

“Come on, Jay, please? We can make it another night – can’t we have pizza?”

Jason huffed and pushed himself away from the counter. “Alright you little shit – get over here.”

He made a swipe for Tim, who shrieked and immediately launched himself out of reach when Jason’s fingers grazed his ribs. When he looked up at Jason this time, gone was the faux-pout. Instead, his eyes were wide with surprise and anticipation, the twitch of his mouth almost giddy as he eyed Jason’s hands warily. Jason grinned and took a heavy step forward, drawing out the game. Then, suddenly, Tim’s eyes narrowed and his jaw set. Without warning, he bolted from the kitchen.

“Wha– get back here! Face your sentence like a man, TimTam!”

Jason raced after him, winding through the labyrinthian halls of the Manor. As they got closer to the front side of the mansion, Tim started shouting.

“Dick! Dick, help me!”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “You fucking– running to Dick for help, as if you don’t deserve this!”

“Dick, he’s doing it again!”

As they approached the den, Jason put on a burst of speed. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Tim was holding back as well, breaking into a dead sprint to reach the den first. The two of them crashed through the entryway, knocking down a whole stack of pillows and blankets that someone had piled by the door. Dick stood in the middle of the room, clearly having been rearranging furniture for the “ideal movie night positioning,” looking absolutely flabbergasted.

Tim, still with that young Robin springiness, was able to extricate himself from the avalanche of comfy items easily. He bounced out of the pile and darted behind Dick, using him as a human shield. Jason, while highly trained, was now all bulky muscle instead of flexible springiness, and had a harder time wading out of the mess.

“What on earth is going on, here?” Dick asked, gaze darting between Jason and Tim behind his back.

“He’s trying to kill me!”

Jason scoffed. “Please – you were being a little shit, you can’t tell me you didn’t deserve it.”

Tim peeked around Dick’s torso to stick his tongue out at Jason, before ducking back behind Dick as Jason finally got his foot free of the last blanket and began to approach.

Dick had a look on his face, that constipated one he made when he wanted to laugh but was still trying to take them seriously for the sake of their pride. “And how, exactly, was Jason going to kill you?” Dick tilted slightly to the side to look at Tim, exposing him to Jason’s sight.

The apples of Tim’s cheeks went pink as he scowled at them both. “Tickle me,” he mumbled.

Jason clicked his tongue, advancing on them both. “You heard the kid – he said to tickle him, let’s get to it Goldie.”

Dick broke, laughing as Tim yelped and ducked fully behind him again. He laughed even harder as Jason tried to reach around him and snatch Tim, doing nothing to help.

“You know, Jay – you’ve turned into quite the tickle monster over the past few months.”

Jason grunted, barely paying attention. “Yeah? He’s getting the full little brother experience, I remember what you were like when I was a kid.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed. Before Jason had even fully processed the change in expression, his hackles had raised. He backed out of Dick’s space quickly, eyeing him with suspicion. Tim perked up, picking up on the change in vibes. Jason was no longer the most dominant personality in the room.

Dick’s mouth twisted into a smirk. One that Jason remembered all too well. “Maybe a little payback is in order, Little Wing. What do you think?

Jason crossed his arms, raising to his full height to try and cut a more intimidating figure. Dick’s eyes twinkled, and he could practically imagine Dick cooing at the posturing inside his own head.

“I’ve already told you both, the Pit got rid of all that.”

Dick looked him up and down. “Really? Why are you all the way over there, then?”

“Muscle memory.”

“Right, right. You know, you never have let us prove that theory of yours.”

Jason widened his stance as subtly as he could, preparing to run. “What would be the point of that?”

Dick bared his teeth, a facsimile of a friendly smile. Jason turned tail to bolt, but a body suddenly latched onto his back. Knocked off balance, Jason found himself tumbling face-first into the mountain of pillows and blankets. Seriously – why had Dick brought so many? He tossed the body off his back, hearing Tim’s laughter filled oof as he got swallowed by the plush pile as well. He barely managed to roll over in time to catch Dick’s hands as he dove towards Jason’s prone form.

“I think someone’s been lying,” Dick sing-songed, trying to twist his hands out of Jason’s grip

“I think you’re full of shit – let me up, Dick.”

Dick pulled out his most innocent expression. “But Little Wing – you’re the one holding onto me.”

“Yeah because you’re going to– be a jerk!”

Dick laughed, his own grip on Jason’s hands flexing. “Yeah? How am I gonna be a jerk?”

“I’m not falling for that.”

Dick shrugged. “Doesn’t change anything.”

Tim popped up from the bedding, hair sticking every which way from being mussed against the fabrics. “You do kinda deserve it.”

“Shut your trap, snotface.”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “Rude.”

Jason pursed his lips, running through every escape plan in his mind. He was trapped in this comfy avalanche, sinking deeper with every struggle – even if Dick wasn’t hovering overtop him, it would take him way too long to crawl his way out. The second he let go of Dick’s hands to try and get away, he was a goner – Dick knew all his worst spots, and exactly how to target them. Dick was like a shark who smelled blood, there was almost no getting out of this now.

Unless he took Dick down first.

Jason tossed Dick’s hands to the sides as hard as he could. He heard Tim yelp and collapse back into the blankets to avoid a flying limb, but he figured the kid was fine – Robins had quick reflexes. Before Dick could recover, Jason dove his own hands toward Dick’s knees and thighs, squeezing away the moment he found muscle. Dick cried out, immediately bursting into cackles. After a few seconds, he wavered and collapsed sideways into the blanket pile next to Jason.

“Fucking jerk!”

Jason grinned. “Don’t forget Dickie – I’m bigger than you now.”

Despite laughing his head off and failing to squirm away from Jason’s hands, Dick still had that devious twinkle in his eyes. He fought to speak through his laughter, “You may be bigger, but we have numbers.”

“We–?”

For the second time in as many minutes, a small body barrelled into Jason’s back. Overbalancing, Jason was forced to take one hand off of Dick and plant it into the blankets to compensate for the new weight.

“I still don’t get why you had to throw me at him like a ragdoll the first time,” Tim piped up from behind him.

Dick twisted and contorted in ways only he could and suddenly Jason found himself swallowed by the blankets and cushions once more. Tim yelped and barely scrambled off in time to avoid getting crushed.

“You threw him?” Jason asked incredulously.

Dick shrugged. “Enrichment for baby birds. They love flying.”

Tim popped back up, his hair even worse than before. “That’s fair.”

While Jason was distracted by the absolute robin’s nest on Tim’s head, Dick lunged again. They entered into a grapple, one that Jason quickly lost at the unexpected flutter of Tim’s fingers in the crook of his neck. He yelped at an embarrassing pitch as one hand darted up to snatch the offending fingers.

“You are still ticklish!” Dick crowed.

“Liar!” Tim shouted at the same time.

Dick took full advantage of the moment of distraction, grabbing onto the wrist of Jason’s raised hand with both of his and pinning it in the pile of fluff. His torso wound up draped diagonally over Jason’s chest to do it, almost knocking the wind out of him.

“Get him!”

Small, precise fingers slipped under Jason’s leather jacket, scribbling against the hoodie underneath. It was thick enough to provide protection from the hesitant touch, but Jason still couldn’t stop the instinctive flinch from fingers just existing that close to his underarms.

“Fuck you!” He yelled, struggling under Dick’s weight. He had Jason’s arm well-pinned, he had far better leverage and the angle was awkward from the shifting of the blankets. Jason reached to pry the fingers away with his free arm, but Dick’s body blocked his arm from being able to reach.

“Harder, Timmy! He’s got layers–”

“I’m not fucking Shrek–”

“Are you sure?” Tim, that little snot.

“You’re such a fucking– No!”

Two hands delivered a series of nibbling pinches up and down Jason’s exposed side and ribs, the sensation cutting through his hoodie like it was nothing. He tossed his head back with laughter, hating how bubbly it sounded. His legs lurched up, bending at the knees.

“Wow,” Tim said over his laughter. “I didn’t know you could laugh and it actually sound happy.”

Dick chuckled. “You should’ve heard him when he was younger – all shrieky and giggly. I’m glad he didn’t grow out of it.”

“I’m right here, assholes!”

Dick clicked his tongue. “That you are, Jay. Are we not paying enough attention to you? Here, I’ll help.”

“Dick, no!”

Obviously, Dick did not listen. With Jason already growing weaker from the laughter and tickling, Dick could easily keep him pinned with just one hand. With his newly freed fingers, he reached down and clawed into Jason’s stomach. Jason shrieked, his legs lurching up again as he instinctively tried to curl around the weak point and was halted by Dick being in the way.

“Wow,” Tim said. “Dick really wasn’t joking, you are freakishly ticklish.”

Jason tried to bare his teeth. With how wide his smile was, he wasn’t sure the threat came across. “Not as ticklish as you.”

Tim only smirked at him. “Well, I’m not the one pinned down, am I?”

Little shit. Jason was absolutely going to get him later. And Dick, too.

“Might as well get revenge while I can, right?” Tim continued. “What’s that thing you like to do to me? Rib counting?”

Dick laughed again, leaning his weight more heavily on Jason’s torso. He took his own tickling fingers away, using that hand to try and shove Jason’s legs down instead.

“Diabolical, Baby Bird. Count away, I’ll try to keep our little pill-bug here from messing you up.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Tim’s voice was the epitome of innocence. “If he messes me up, it just means I have to start over again. I mean, that’s what you taught me, right, Jay?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

Tim hummed. “Yeah, it pays to be thorough.”

Jason’s ribs were far from his most ticklish spot, but when Tim’s hands slipped underneath his hoodie, leaving him only with a threadbare t-shirt as his last layer of defense, Jason thought he was going to die. He always knew he was ticklish as all hell, but going without the feeling for so long, every sensation felt electric. He couldn’t even keep track of his own laughter, and he tried his damndest to tune out Tim’s count because he was not about to let his baby brother get the upper hand in teasing, too.

The most infuriating part? The fact that he couldn’t stop the warm, melty feeling in his chest, hearing Tim giggle along or seeing Dick beaming down at him. He was the goddamned Red Hood. He should not be having this much fun in a one-sided tickle fight with his brothers – especially not on the losing side.

Jason’s legs jumped up again, and this time Jason put a little more control into it. He tried to ram his knees into Dick’s side – jostle him, knock him off Jason’s torso, or hell, even just annoy him. Jason didn’t care, so long as he landed a hit. Unfortunately, Dick’s free hand was still poised to ward off any attacks, shoving his legs away every time they got too close. When he finally slipped a knee past Dick’s defenses, he called out an affronted “hey” and reached out to grab the joint.

The squawking little yip that Jason let out as the joint was squeezed may have been the most embarrassing noise that he’d ever made in his life. Both Dick and Tim tumbled into laughter, pausing their attack.

“Let me go,” Jason demanded as he regained his breath. His voice didn’t quite carry the heat he had been looking for.

Dick turned to give him that creepy stare-down that made it feel like he was tearing Jason’s soul open to look inside. Satisfied with whatever he found, his mouth twisted back into his patented “tickle monster” smirk.

“I don’t think so, Little Wing. I mean, a few rounds of rib counting is hardly revenge.”

Jason started squirming and kicking, making a show out of trying to get away despite knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere. Dick gave him a few squeezes to the kneecap for the trouble, sending Jason into mortifying titters.

“Where’s his tickle spot?” Tim asked eagerly, raising up on his knees to scan over Jason’s torso. “That’ll show him.”

Dick pressed his lips together on a smile. Apparently, laughing at Jason was fair game, but laughing at the adorable menace that was Tim Drake was not allowed.

“Dick—“

“I think it’s cheating to tell, Timmy.” Dick cut off Jason’s protest before he could even get started. Jason nearly let out a sigh of relief, but Dick wasn’t done. “I think you’re just gonna have to keep going until you find it.”

“What—“

Tim let out an evil laugh, far more menacing than any 15 year old had the right to be — let alone one that looked so much like a wet cat.

Too quickly for Jason to take advantage of, Dick raised off his body and slid into place behind his head. Jason tried to go for Tim with his newfound reach, but Dick snatched his wrist out of the air and easily pinned it down. After a brief struggle, Jason gave up and just laid there, staring at the ceiling.

“I hate you both.”

“Sure you do, Jay.”

Tim waddled up to Jason, wading through the blankets and pillows surrounding them on his knees. He hovered over Jason for a moment, uncertainty flashing through his eyes.

Aw, hell.

“Well, Timbo? Do your worst. I know you won’t find it.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, the uncertainty vanishing as Tim was confronted with a competition.

“Oh, yeah? And what if I do?”

Jason hummed, pretending to consider. “You might earn yourself a pizza.”

Tim lit up like a Christmas tree. His hands shot out to Jason’s ribs, provoking that bubbly laughter once more.

“Well, we already know it’s not here.”

“So why are you tickling there?!”

Dick laughed at them.

Tim stuck his tongue out at him. “‘Cause it’s funny.”

But he did move his hands, crawling them up into Jason’s armpits like two devious little spiders. Jason jolted, snorts intermingling with his laughter.

“Get out!”

Tim perked up. “Did I find it?”

“Sorry, Baby Bird,” Dick said. “Not just yet.”

Tim frowned and furrowed his brow — his thinking face looked uncannily like Bruce’s — and scanned Jason’s torso. His hands flitted down to Jason’s stomach and sides, his laughter dying down the slightest bit but thankfully not at giggles quite yet. The Red Hood did not giggle.

“Dick got you here, so it’s not here.”

Jason’s legs bounced up as he instinctively tried to curl around the hands. Tim took a page out of Dick’s book, squeezing Jason’s kneecap until it jumped out of his grasp.

“Or here, but you sound ridiculous right now.”

Jason tried to growl through his laughter, but Tim wasn’t exactly wrong. Jumping between the light laughter from his stomach and the high pitched tittering from his knees, Jason was making an absolute fool of himself. His only saving grace was that Bruce wasn’t home to witness it. He’d never live that down.

Tim gave Jason a break, lifting his hands to run them through his messy hair. “Am I completely off track, is it your feet or something?”

“Not. Telling.”

Tim glared at Jason for a moment before flicking his eyes up to Dick’s, giving him that puppy-gaze. Jason looked up too, trying to burn holes through Dick’s skull with his eyes. Dick smirked, his eyes darting down to Jason’s torso and back up to Tim’s face again. Tim got that constipated look again, his own eyes darting back down to Jason’s abdomen.

“But—?”

Then Tim made The Face. The same face he made when he’d solved a tough case that he’d been working for a while. The wide eyes, the slightly parted lips, as if he was surprised at his own success, the relaxing of his ever-scrunched-up eyebrows. A jolt of giddy panic sparked up Jason’s chest.

“You already lost,” he said quickly. “You asked Dick for help. You cheated.”

Tim met his eyes. “Well then, I guess I have nothing else to lose.”

Giving Jason no time to prepare, Tim started squeezing away at Jason’s hips. It wasn’t as bad as his memories of Bruce or Dick attacking him, but they’d had the benefit of practice. A lot of practice. As it was, it still tickled like hell. Jason’s mind went blank as he practically screamed out cackles. He tried to curl himself into a ball again, and this time, his brothers let him. Dick released his arms and Tim let his legs shoot up, and Jason curled himself into the tightest ball that he could around all the bulky muscle he had now.

That didn’t mean Tim had stopped tickling though. No, even as Jason rolled onto his side in a feeble defense, Tim just targeted both hands on the hip that was still accessible.

“Aw, little pill-bug Jay is alive and well,” Dick cooed.

I’ll kill you here and now, Jason wanted to say. Unfortunately, all his breath was currently being directed to support his laughter. Thankfully, Dick only let Tim go on for a couple more minutes before pulling him back, leaving Jason to heave in breaths as he recovered.

“Next time,” Dick stage-whispered. “I’ll show you how ticklish his back is.”

“Next time,” Jason grumbled. “I’ll cut off your damn hands.”

Tim snorted. Dick patted him on the back.

“Sure you will, buddy.”

“So,” Tim said, drawing out the word, “since you’re so tired from that and all – maybe you wanna get pizza instead of cooking?”

Jason took a deep breath before heaving himself up to a sitting position, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Nope.”

Tim groaned as well, flopping back into the mess they made of Dick’s pile of bedding.

Shaking off the last of the ghost tickles, Jason gave Dick a heated glare as he pushed himself to his feet. Dick blinked back innocently. His brothers were such goddamned liars.

“I already bought the ingredients,” Jason said. “I’m cooking and you’re going to like it.”

Tim levelled him with a challenging look. “And what if I don’t.”

“Then you’ll suck it up and eat it anyway.”

Jason tromped out of the room, heading back toward the kitchen. Dick and Tim could handle the den setup without him – they were much pickier about blanket nests than he was. Where Jason would just slap together a blanket fort with some kitchen chairs and sheets, Tim preferred to engineer a structurally sound blanket castle when he had the chance. Leaving Tim with free reign of the den furniture and half the Manor’s worth of bedding to accomplish this task gave Jason more than enough time to finish up dinner with the prep he’d done earlier that day.

Seeing Tim’s face light up as Jason personally delivered his monstrosity of a pizza order, made from scratch, almost made the whole meaningless argument that led to his torture worth it.

Almost.

Dick and Tim weren’t going to escape from his revenge that easily.

#tickle fic #my writing #dc tickling #batfam tickling #lee!jason todd #ler!dick grayson #ler!tim drake #ticklish!jason todd #dc #batfam #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake

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tennessoui · 2 days ago

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Hi Kit, soon is Mermay. 🧜🧜‍♂️🧜‍♀️ Will we get a cute ficlet for it?

i'm not sure if i'll have time for a proper mermay fic, but enjoy this lil snippet wherein obi-wan quite forgets to tell anakin that he is a mermaid!

(1.5k)

Anakin had always meant to approach the issue subtly and with great tact. After all, he’d decided years ago that it didn’t matter. That it didn’t change his opinion regarding his master in the slightest. Obi-Wan Kenobi was, and still is, one of the greatest Jedi in the Order.

Him having a crippling fear of water does not change anything.

What does change things, unsurprisingly, is the war.

Anakin has been deployed to Ravek for two point five weeks when Obi-Wan’s assist team touches down on the rocky coast next to the 501st’s camp. A large part of Anakin is enraged at the support; the mission objective is easy. Or, it would be if the peoples that Anakin has been tasked to negotiate with lived above ground and spoke any recognizable tongue at all.

Either way, he’s not sure how more bodies will help matters. Even the great Negotiator cannot strike a deal with a species of people that he cannot communicate with.

When he wades out of the ocean after another failed attempt to talk with the fish people’s council, the first thing he sees is the ramp of a very recognizable ship opening to reveal his master.

Anakin raises a hand in greeting as he stalks towards the ramp, breathing apparatus curled around his neck, and wetsuit hanging half-unzipped off his body.

“Master, I didn’t realize they’d be sending you,” he tells Obi-Wan, trying to keep the flare of annoyance out of the Force and his voice even as he grasps the other man’s arm in greeting. “I’m really not sure what more men will accomplish here. The Raveki don’t seem likely to bend the knee at a show of Republic force.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes sweep over him the way they always do after several weeks apart. Anakin knows that his master has not yet been able to shake the instinct to make sure that he is alright, unharmed. Still, a stubbornly persistent part of Anakin wishes his master were looking at him for an entirely different reason.

As if he can somehow hear the direction Anakin’s thoughts have drifted, Obi-Wan drops his arm with a dip of his head. His eyes move from Anakin’s chest up and out to the ocean behind him, and suddenly Anakin remembers another reason why Obi-Wan is wholly inappropriate for this mission.

Primarily because his master is terrified of open, deep water.

“Why did they send you?” Anakin asks, reaching out and wrapping his hand around his master’s shoulder in comfort. “Doesn’t the Council know about your…thing?”

It’s regrettable that he must throw caution and tact by the wayside, but he has little choice in the matter. Not if Obi-Wan is planning to swallow his fear in the name of service to the Order. Not if his master is really and truly planning to swim.

Force, Anakin isn’t even sure Obi-Wan knows how to swim. He hadn’t taught Anakin, that’s for sure. He’d foisted him off on Kit Fisto for those lessons and watched through the transparisteel windows above the Temple’s pools.

But it’s like his master doesn’t even remember his own trepidation, because he pats Anakin’s hand and says, “Yes, padawan. They’re aware. I imagine that is one of the reasons they chose me for this mission.”

Those sleemos! Obi-Wan should be able to get over his fear at his own pace, in his own time—he shouldn’t be forcefully assigned or pressured into accepting a mission that involves swimming in an ocean!

Thank the Force Anakin is here. Maybe he can head off his stubborn master, sneak down to the ocean floor for one last aggressive negotiation session with the Raveki Council before his master gathers up the courage to try. Anakin will protect him from himself, even if Obi-Wan and his Council won’t.

But Obi-Wan seems to have not gotten this message either, because he’s already removing pieces of his armor, discarding them on the sand as he orders a sit-rep from nearby Rex.

“Master, you don’t have to do this,” Anakin tells him, fighting the urge to pick up Obi-Wan’s discarded tunic and throw it back over him. “Force, when did you even learn to swim?”

This question at least gets Obi-Wan’s attention back on him fully, and his master’s hands still on the waistband of his pants. His eyebrows pinch together and his mouth hangs slightly open in an expression of bafflement. “Sorry,” he says, “are you joking?”

Anakin frowns back at him. “No,” he snaps before moving closer and lowering his voice. He doesn’t want the other men milling about on the beach to hear, no matter how much his master seems to not care. Surely his master cares and is simply excellent at hiding his fear. Yes, there: when Anakin rests his hand on Obi-Wan’s waist, goosebumps emerge on the other man’s skin. A fear reaction that Obi-Wan cannot hide.

“C’mon, Master, I know you are afraid of deep water,” Anakin murmurs. “The Raveki live on the ocean floor. You cannot possibly feel alright going down there.”

“I’m afraid of deep water,” Obi-Wan repeats blankly. He doesn’t move out of Anakin’s touch at least, so maybe he’s getting some comfort from it. Anakin hopes that’s the case at least.

“I’ll go again,” Anakin says. “Let me try once more; I’ll get them to agree. You don’t have to do this.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth pinches and for a moment, he looks…considering, eyes flicking back between the ocean’s surf and the camp. Anakin tries to keep his face open and earnest.

“Ah,” his master says. “Right. My…aversion to water.”

“I don’t think any less of you for it,” Anakin tells him loyally. “You’re the best Jedi in the Order. And like you always told me, Jedi support each other and accept help when it’s offered. So you don’t—”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupts, turning and placing a hand over his heart. Anakin is, understandably and immediately, shocked into silence. Obi-Wan’s palm is rough against his chest, skin to skin.

“Uh,” Anakin says. “Yeah?”

“I am Stewjoni. I am not averse to water.”

Anakin blinks. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, at this point it may be easier just to show you,” Obi-Wan says, expression wry as he turns from the shore and dives into the waves.

Anakin blinks again.

And then suddenly, his master’s form is gone completely. It’s instinct to rush forward. To throw himself into the water as well. He knew his master couldn’t kriffing swim. He knew he should have just hogtied his master and put him safely back onto his ship. He knew—

His head breaks the surface at the same moment that strong arms wrap around his waist and lift him up. With only half his wetsuit on, the water is chilling to the bone.

But more importantly, his master’s face is only a few inches away from his own.

And—well, not more importantly because proximity to his master is always going to be at the top of his list of priorities, but of incredible importance is the fact that his master’s face…has changed.

There’s…scales on it, patches of blue-teal scales dotting his master’s neck and forehead, and his ears have…frills. In the same color.

And his teeth are sharp. Like fangs.

And…and on his neck are cuts, two on each side. Like…like the gills of a fish.

Obi-Wan lets out a high chattering sound that is absolutely unintelligible, and Anakin shakes his head. In confusion. In disbelief.

What the kark does I’m Stewjoni mean?

Something slips around Anakin’s legs, firm and scaly, and he startles immediately with a panicked shout that makes Obi-Wan bare his teeth at him.

Wait, no. It makes Obi-Wan laugh at him. That’s the sound he’s making, that high-pitched sound. It’s laughter.

Because—because—Anakin looks down into the water and sees the blurry outline of a blue tail brushing his thigh. Obi-Wan is laughing because his…tail has startled Anakin.

“What the kriff, Obi-Wan,” Anakin says faintly.

And then—then Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, moves his hand up to wrap around Anakin’s head and pushes them both underwater.

Anakin barely has time to let out a yell before Obi-Wan’s lips are covering his.

In a kiss.

Obi-Wan is a fish and now he is kissing Anakin.

This is playing havoc on Anakin’s list of priorities.

Apologies, dear one, Obi-Wan says as he pulls away. His mouth is moving in that unfamiliar way, but the words are coming from Anakin’s own head. It’s the only way we can understand each other, you see.

Anakin doesn’t see. Anakin doesn’t see anything.

And I apologize as well that I…forgot to inform you of my condition, his master says, straight into Anakin’s mind as if it’s the most normal thing in the universe.

Anakin thinks he whimpers in response. He isn’t quite sure.

It’s rather inconvenient to transform, Obi-Wan is saying, so I’ve always tried to avoid the water. I didn’t realize you thought I was afraid of it. This transformation is common for Stewjonis. It leaves me quite well-equipped for this sort of negotiation, don't you agree?

#asks #mermay #early i guess #obikin #many things going on here of course #obi-wan is so dramatic <3 #'i'll just show you instead' lmao. could have given the poor guy a warning!!!#instead of just a kiss !

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lazysoulwriter · 8 hours ago

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purple rain. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you for sending, love that!

---

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a small towel spread across your lap, carefully brushing a fresh coat of polish onto your nails when you felt a familiar pair of eyes on you.

Pedro was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with the kind of fascination usually reserved for fireworks shows or street performers. His head tilted slightly, a slow grin pulling at his lips.

“What?” you asked, laughing softly, looking up at him.

“Nothin’,” he said, voice a little rough around the edges. “Just... you make it look so cool.”

You wiggled your fingers in the air, admiring the glossy finish. “Wanna try?”

His eyebrows lifted. “You serious?”

“Dead serious,” you said, setting the bottle down. “C’mon, sit. Let me do your nails.”

Pedro hesitated for a second — not because he didn’t want to, but because he wanted to act like it was a big decision. Then he practically jogged over and plopped down in front of you, legs stretched out, hands obediently held out like a kid getting ready for a magic trick.

“Pick a color,” you said, nudging the little lineup of bottles toward him.

He scanned them dramatically, chin in hand like he was studying priceless works of art. And then he spotted it — a deep, rich purple.

“That one,” he said, tapping the bottle.

“Of course you picked purple,” you teased, laughing as you grabbed the color.

“Purple is elite,” he defended, and then, softer, almost bashful: “Plus... it’s cool. Like Prince.”

You smiled at him, heart melting. “Alright, Mr. Cool. Let’s start with some prep.”

You filed his nails gently, careful not to tug or rush, and he watched every move with rapt attention. Then you rubbed a little balm into his cuticles, massaging his hands lightly. He let out the most contented sigh — like you were giving him the best spa treatment in the world.

“You’re gonna be so fancy after this,” you teased.

“I am fancy,” he quipped, making you giggle.

Finally, you opened the purple polish and started painting, careful and slow. Pedro watched the brushstroke like it was sacred — brows furrowed, lip tucked under his teeth. As the first coat went on, he lifted his hand a little, tilting it to the light.

And then he started humming.

At first, it was soft, just under his breath. Then the lyrics slipped out, a low, sweet croon:

"Purple rain, purple raaain..."

You almost dropped the bottle laughing. “Pedro!��

“What? It’s the moment, baby!” he said dramatically, holding his hands up like he was performing a grand ballad. “I feel artistic, I feel cool, I feel like... a fancy bitch.”

You finished the second coat, biting your lip to hold back your smile as he continued serenading you — still absolutely enamored with his fresh purple nails.

When you were done, you leaned back to admire your work. “Perfect,” you said. “You look incredible.”

He flexed his fingers, beaming. “I feel incredible.”

Pedro kept glancing at his nails for the rest of the day — sometimes admiring them, sometimes just randomly humming a bar or two of Purple Rain. And every time you caught him doing it, he’d just wink at you and say, “Best decision I ever made, baby. Right after dating you.”

---

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfics #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fics #x reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal oneshot #pedro pascal fluff #imagines #pp

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xoxo-stellea · 2 days ago

Text

𝙍𝙖𝙜𝙚.

𝖡𝖿!𝖢𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗑 𝗀𝖿!𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ☘︎

It’s been a rather stressful day…well week or even month. Me and Chris just moved in together and it’s been nothing but a disaster.

The furniture didn’t arrive in time so the apartment still looks nothings like the cozy home I imagined it to be.

The wall in our bedroom is still plain white, even though we had picked out this beautiful light green color together.

But still here I am at one o'clock in the morning baking a cake that Chris needs for the next day for some birthday party for some friend.

Why am I the one baking the cake? I don’t know I agreed to do it cus I thought he’d help but he’s still gone, filming with his brothers.

So here I am baking a fucking cake for his fucking friends. But I love him. That’s what I do, I love him.

I slam the cupboard doors a little harder than necessary as I grab the flour, sugar, and baking powder. The eggs almost hit the counter too fast, but I catch myself…barely.

I mutter under my breath while tossing ingredients onto the counter like a passive-aggressive cooking show host.

The oven dings to life at 350°F. Great. Just what I wanted- more heat.

Butter goes into the bowl, soft but not softened enough because why would anything cooperate tonight? I mash it around with the spoon, annoyed at how stubborn it is.

Sugar gets dumped in next, and I mix them together with the kind of energy that probably qualifies as aggressive whisking. The spoon scrapes the bowl, loud and grating, just like my mood.

Eggs. Crack. Plop. Shell in the bowl? Of course. Because this cake is cursed.

By the time I’m adding vanilla extract, I’m not even measuring. Just pouring and hoping for the best. He won’t notice anyway.

He’ll just show up, cake in hand, take all the credit, and I’ll be the one who lost sleep over something I don’t even get a slice of.

I pour the batter into the pan, shove it in the oven, and lean against the counter.

And just as as I let out a deep sigh I hear the door open and Chris stepping into the kitchen.

„Hey babe, god I love you thanks so much“

He says while walking over to me and placing a kiss on my forehead.

„Yeah yeah that’s what they say, right“

I answer rather jokingly but deep down I’m just tired from beging up so late.

He grins and leans against the counter, watching me start to clean up the mess. I gather all the dishes that are scattered around the kitchen.

But just as I bend over to put a bowl into the dishwasher, I feel a slap on my ass. Not hard or painful, just enough to completely send me over the edge… or rather, drop-kick me over it.

I whip around and glare at him, and before I can stop myself, the words just start pouring out.

„That’s what I get?“

In a disbelieving voice.

„That’s what I fucking get?!“

„I‘m up all fucking night, cleaning, painting walls and baking shitty fucking cakes for YOUR friends and this is what I fucking get?!“

I yell, throwing my hands in the air in complete exasperation.

He just stands there, eyes wide and a little taking aback by my sudden outburst.

„Sorry- jeez“

He apologizes.

„Don’t you fucking dare ‘jeez me“

I yell back at him.

He raises his hands like I’m some wild animal he doesn’t want to spook.

“Okay, okay- chill. I didn’t mean it like that.”

I laugh. Loud. Pissed.

“Oh chill? You want me to chill? After I’ve been scrubbing the paint off my arms, sweating over your stupid vanilla cake, and picking up your mess? Sure, babe, let me just go light a candle and zen the fuck out.”

He takes a step closer, cautiously.

“I didn’t ask you to do all that—”

“No, you didn’t,”

I cut him off, eyes narrowing.

“You never ask. You just leave and magically expect it to be done when you get back. Like this house runs on fucking fairy dust and my constant mental breakdowns.”

He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. Good. I’m on a roll now.

“You didn’t even text me to check in! I could’ve died in a flour explosion and you wouldn’t know until you stepped over my dead body on your way to grab fucking a slice.”

He opens his mouth again.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

I glare.

“You’re sorry? Cool. Maybe your friends can put that on top of the cake.”

I look at him before turning my head away trying to hide the grin on my face.

A small laugh escapes me, and before I can stop it, I completely crack up. My shoulders shake, and I double over, laughing so hard I can barely breathe.

All the tension, all the frustration- it just bursts out of me in one ridiculous, uncontrollable fit of laughter.

„You seriously laughing now? I thought you were mad at me“

He looks at me a little confused.

„Yeah nah I totally am“

I again cannot hold back a laugh before taking a deep breath and putting my hands on my waist looking a bit more serious now.

„You‘re gonna clean the rest here and wait for the cake and when you’re don’t with that you can come into bedroom and apologize“

He looks a bit disappointed as I walk away before suddenly turning around a now understanding look on his face

„Ohhh apologize“

„Yes Chris, apologize“

I grin as I walk into our bedroom and close the door…

A/n// guys idk what do write (that’s a lie I’m just too tired) but yeah I do like ts so enjoy ☘︎

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 hours ago

Text

No Air 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect and abuse, bullying, body shaming and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re forced to return home after a nervous breakdown.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The wind whips around you through the open top of the Bentley. The bluster has you just as disoriented as the man driving. You keep your arms locked across your middle and lean away from him, curling down into the seat as you will yourself to blow away into nothing.

Lloyd veers and you're swung towards him. You have no choice but to reach out and steady yourself. You claps onto his upper arms as he slams the brakes and shifts into park. The sudden stop has you hitting the seat with a thump.

He flexes, "like what you feel?"

He winks at you and you quickly recoil. You turn and look up at the restaurant instead. This doesn't look like a waffle house.

“Baby, don’t worry. You’ll like this,” he purrs and pets your cheek. You lean away from him. He only snickers as he drops his hand.

He shuts off the car and clicks free his seat belt. It snaps back and he swiftly gets out. You take your time, weighed down by dread. Whatever he’s up to, you don’t trust.

You don’t know why he’s doing this. To you. He has your mom so why is he so focused on you. Maybe, like everyone else, he just sees an easy target. That must be it.

You gently shut the door and he tisks as he comes around to your side. “That’s right, you treat her with respect,” he drags his hand over the shimmering paints of the Bentley. “Nice, isn’t it?”

Your eyes dart between him and the car. “Yes.”

“Mm, come on.” He grabs your hand before you can elude him. He latches on and drags you around the white brick building. The glossy sign along the facade has no text, only a green stem and leaves.

He pulls open the clear door and angles you in ahead of him. It smells like some sort of plant within. Aloe? Maybe something else.

There’s a lounge space with white leather furniture and an artificial fireplace. Plucky music wafts in the air with the untraced scent. On the other side, a sleek counter in a matching shade of white gleams in the low light.

“Mr. Hansen,” a woman greets from behind the counter. Her short blond bob is neat; not a hair out of place. She wears a white turtleneck. Everything is so white. “I don’t have you in today.”

“Carly. I hope you don’t mind a walk-in,” he struts across the lobby, tugging you ahead of him. He lets go of your hand only to place his over the small of your back. He ushers you forward. “You see, baby girl here, she’s been going through.” He puts his other hand on the counter and leans in, “nervous breakdown.” He whispers. The woman glances at you, her smile twitching. “She needs a little release.”

“Oh, yes, well you know our services are designed to ease all sorts of stress,” she preens. “I can find you a room... both of you?”

“Hey, I’m here. May as well join in the fun,” he winks at her.

“No problem, Mr. Hansen. Would you like Mary Lou?”

“Oh, strong hands. Sure.”

“Alright, and I think... Kay can help out with your guest.” She tilts her head prettily and flicks her lashes. “You can enjoy our lounge while I have it readied. Did you want a juice or tea?”

“Can you have my usual waiting in the room?” He asks.

“Of course,” she agrees.

He turns away without a thanks. He brings you with him to the seating area. He sits and before you can do the same, he tugs you around and you fall into his lap. You squeak as he grabs your knee and turns you. You teeter on top of him, bracing his shoulder for balance.

“Mm,” he slaps his hand onto your thigh. “Cushy.”

“Um, Lloyd,” you eke out. “Please--”

“I’m just getting you warmed up.” He purrs.

“Warmed up...” you latch onto his large hand. “Um, erm--” You struggle with him. He’s strong. Your throat tightens. The shadow of his grip winds around it. “Please I--

“Don’t worry, they serve breakfast,” he chuckles and slips his hand up your thigh, too close... You stop him again. “Don’t be ungrateful now. We both know Mommy doesn’t give a shit what happens to you, but Daddy will give you what you need.”

Your eyes round. You swallow down the ‘ew’ at the tip of your tongue. You look at the wall and exhale.

“Your tense,” he kneads your thigh. “You gotta let the all go or you’re gonna smash up something else and I don’t think there’s any cellos hanging around here.”

You flinch. “Please. Don’t.”

“Wild. A girl like you.” He chortles.

“Please, Lloyd. Stop.”

“Oh, keep saying please, baby,” he herks his hips beneath you. You feel a prodding. “I’ll give you exactly what you need and what you don’t even know you want.”

Your insides are fluttery. You squirm and curl your shoulders inward. Your only defense is all you’ve ever done. You just recede into yourself and let things happen. What else can you do? No one will help you. Not even your own mother.

“Mr. Hansen,” Carly appears.

You wince and glance over. She doesn’t seem bothered by the scene, but you are. Sitting in his lap like that. It’s wrong.

Lloyd taps your thigh and you get up. He points you ahead of him and you follow the women dressed all in white. He’s right behind you as you’re led around the counter to an open door and own a blindingly bright hallway. She opens another door and waves you inside.

You enter and stop short. Lloyd collides with you and his hands frame your hips. The door shuts and he rubs his pelvis against your back.

You blink at the two beds. The walls are a soft shade of green and new music drones in the air. Bells? And a new scent, softer. Jasmine like your mother’s body soap.

“Go on and get naked,” Lloyd growls.

What kind of place is this? You look between the beds, white sheets folded back halfway. You grab his hands and try to shove him off.

“Settle down, baby. I’m not gonna pop the cherry first thing,” he snorts. “Won’t be much of a massage if you’re still dressed.”

He lets you go and moves past you. He pulls off his shirt and folds it up in the white chair in the corner. You watch the muscles in his back and shudder. He pauses and goes to the rolling cart between the beds. He lifts the dark bottle and reads the label.

“Bit early but you could use a drink,” he grabs the glass and pours into it. “There you go, sunshine.”

He offers you the glass. You shake your head. “I don’t drink.”

“You don’t? Or mommy says you can’t?”

“Please don’t--”

“Ahh,” he puts the bottle down heavily. He grabs your hand and puts it around the glass. “You’re gonna stop with those words’ ‘no’, ‘don’t’, ‘stop’. The more you tell me not to, the more I’m gonna do.”

You grip the glass. He keeps his hand over yours and pushes it towards you. He angles the rim against your lips. As he tilts the drink you have no choice but to open your mouth. The alcohol makes you choke, your eyes watering as it floods your mouth.

He finally pulls it back and you struggle to swallow. You get it down, heat crawling through your chest and singing in your nose. You bat away the tears with your lashes.

“Don’t want you sloppy,” he takes the glass away and sets it down. “Now, clothes off.”

He spins and unbuckles his belt. You gulp and turn away from him. You wipe your eyes with your knuckles and sniff. Just get it over with.

You take off your shirt. Goosebumps cover your skin painfully. It isn’t cold in here...

You focus on the task. It’s simple enough but feels like lifting a boulder. You step out of your shoes and strip off your jeans. You put them in the other chair. The flicker of candles casts ominous shadows all around you.

You squeak as Lloyd approaches you from behind and grabs your bra. “Let me help.”

He unclasps your bra and shoves the straps off your shoulder. You shiver and he untangles your wrists. He tosses it onto your clothing.

His fingertips graze along your arms and under to your sides. He slides his thumbs beneath the elastic of your panties and peels them off. He leans in and his hot breath swathes over your hair. He kisses your crown.

“I’m gonna mark up those thighs so good,” he snarls.

You squeak and he chuckles at the noise. He pulls your panties down and tugs until you lift your right foot, then your left. He bunches them up and clucks. He drops them into the wastebasket by the chair.

“You won’t need these.”

You hug yourself and bow your head. You listen to him move behind you. He slaps the leather cushion of the bed.

“Face down, baby face,” he demands. “We’ll get the ass up later.”

You turn and look at the bed. You cover your chest with one arm and shield your privates with your other hand. You climb up awkwardly and lay with your face through the cushioned ring at the top. You stare at the floor as chills roll over you.

Lloyd pulls the sheet up just over your bum. He slaps your backside through the thin layer and hums. He backs off and gets up on the other.

“Think I shouldn’t roll over for this one,” he cackles. “You know, I don’t think the ladies can handle the tension in front.”

You frown. Huh? He’s just so confusing but all too clear. You’re not that stupid.

There’s a tap at the door. “Yeah,” he hollers back in a duller voice.

The door opens. You don’t move. A set of steps approach you.

“Hiya, I’m Kay,” the woman greets you.

“Mary Lou,” Lloyd grumbles at the other.

“Massage today? Full body,” Kay says. “You had one before?”

You shake your head then cough. You make yourself speak. “No.”

“No, okay. No problem. We’ll take it slow and you just let me know if anything hurts.”

“Alright,” you say quietly.

You’re not used to being touched. Lloyd is too much as it is. At least she’s a woman. A professinal.

As she gently touches your shoulder, you flinch. You try to relax but your muscles only coil tighter. SHe rubs patiently.

“You carry a lot of tension,” she says.

“Probably the cello,” Lloyd comments. “She plays, you know? Probably not great for the shoulders.”

“Ah, oh yes, I can feel knots right along this side.”

You’re silent. Her hands are delicate but firm in their tending. The more she works the flesh, the softer you feel. Like putty, you meld into the bed.

You close your eyes as she makes slow work around your neck and shoulders. Her touch advances down the middle of your back and a moan escapes you. Your cheeks burn hotly at the noise yet you can’t stop another from rising.

Lloyd’s deep grunts don’t help. Or his response. He laughs.

“I like the sound of that,” he snickers.

You clamp your lips tight. Kay continues on, laughing at his joke as Mary Lou does the same. It’s not very funny. It’s humiliating.

As she gets to the sheet and pulls it down, you have to keep from whining. Full body is... full body.

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a couples booking before,” Mary Lou says to Lloyd’s sultry groans.

“Oh no?” He says coolly. “First for everything, I guess.”

Those words stick in your head, needling like a thorn. You stiffen. Can Kay feel that?

“Guess she’s a special girl. Real talented,” he muses. “Cello player, so... great hands.”

The women laugh again. You cringe. Why is he talking like that? Like you’re together? Don’t the see anything wrong with this? You’re obviously a lot younger than him...

Or maybe, you’re the one who doesn’t understand.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #no air #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #the gray man

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glassbxttless · 18 hours ago

Note

Cece!! Can I please request some Michael fluff? 🫶 I can’t stop thinking about him rolling cigarettes, there is honestly something Wrong with me

(I can’t send asks from my sideblog for some reason and I’m so mad)

Amber Leaf

michael (hoard) x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k+

summary: michael teaches you how to roll a cigarette

warnings: none? cigarettes? idk don’t smoke; it’s kinda hot but it ain’t worth the death sentence.

notes: the loml has made his debut to my blog lmao— also i’m not from the UK bro, i tried my best. big thanks to @prettycalla @bumblebeeswrite and @keeryhours for reading this over! and big thank you to @peachyproserpina for editing this for me.

The late afternoon haze is something of your favorite time of day; quiet, sunshine bleeding lazy stripes across the bed, the rumble of a cheap box fan in the corner, and Michael spread out on the floor like he pays the rent for your shoebox with a toilet. He’s shirtless, hair a bit of a mess and still damp from his after shift shower, his socks are on but they’re mismatched, with a pouch of Amber Leaf tucked beside his right thigh, slightly crumpled rolling papers scattered right along beside it.

You’re stretched out on your stomach, facing him as you watch him from the bed. Your head was pressed against a pillow you’d thrown down there hours ago. You’re doing absolutely nothing but kicking your feet and enjoying the view that’s been offered to you. He’s got that stupid little look of concentration on his face— tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, jaw clenched just a bit, brow furrowed— like he’s solving a complicated equation instead of just rolling a cigarette like he does every day. It should not be this attractive.

“Y’know,” you mumble, raising up on your elbows, “if the bins thing doesn’t work out, you could charge for this.”

Michael looks up, eyebrows raised as he lets a chuckle fall from his lips, paper still halfway rolled. “For rollin’ cigarettes?”

“For letting people watch you roll cigarettes. It’s porn, basically.” You drop your eyes from his, suddenly very interested in the health of your nails and cuticles.

A grin spreads across his face. You love when he smiles like that, because there was a time that he didn’t. There was a time where every small joke would wipe that smile right off his face and send him back to thoughts of his past relationships. Or when you’d be just a little too quiet for too long, and it’d set off a time bomb in his brain. So seeing him so calm, so in love, reminds you that he feels so safe and happy to just… let go. He shakes his head a little, focusing down on the paper in his hand. “Jesus. You’re worse than I am.”

“You’re the one spread out on the floor in your briefs. I’m merely just observing.” You laugh softly, letting your own sock clad feet lock at the ankle for a moment. Michael’s eyes are drifting upwards at that moment. He’s quiet as he lets them rake over the expanse of your long legs, calves and thighs on full display in the shorts you were wearing. Trailing his gaze further, your shirt was rucked up a bit, revealing a sliver of skin at your waist. His mind races for a moment, thinking of just last night when his hands would find themselves there. And finally he meets your eyes. Glinting in the sunlight, teasing him. Making him remember just how much he loves you. And as quick as you lock gazes, he’s diverting it down— finishing the roll and gently tucking it behind his ear. He doesn’t move for a second, he just keeps looking at you, that little grin toying at his lips again. He looks like he’s deciding what to say next.

“Think you’ve got a few screws loose upstairs, babe,” he says finally, clasping his hands together and stretching his arms out in front of him. You can’t help admire the way his skin pulls taught over his muscles, the way that tattoo shifts as he does. You indulge. Devour, take every second you can to memorize the swell of his shoulders, the strength in his arms, the broadness of his chest. A little breath may have caught in your throat before he clears his and begins to speak, “Can’t leave me alone five minutes without makin’ it weird.”

You roll your eyes, letting out a mock sigh as you wave your hand at him dismissively, “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just bored.”

“Yeah?” He gets to his feet in one messy, inelegant motion. Arms pressed against the floor to heave himself up, before he climbs onto the bed like a cat with absolutely no spatial awareness. “Lyin’ there makin’ heart eyes at me, sayin’ it’s boredom. Fuckin’ rude.” You don’t stop him when he rolls you over to your back and wedges himself half on top of you. His hips pinning yours to the bed, his hands bracketing your shoulders. It’s all sharp knees and elbows. The smell of tobacco clinging to him heavily. One of his hands slides underneath you, finding the small of your back— pressing against it like it lives there. Your stomach tight against his.

“I wasn’t making heart eyes,” you groan, eyes fluttering closed and your nose scrunching as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“You were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were. It’s alright.” His lips move downward and he kisses the tip of your nose now, a playful glint in his eyes. “S’a bit pathetic, but sweet.”

You shove him off of you, a bit harder than you had intended. And he immediately falls off the bed. He rolls off the side in slow motion, fake gasping through a laugh the whole way down, and then he thuds onto the carpet and groans extra loudly.

“Christ,” he says. “You’re violent.”

“And you’re annoying. Guess it makes us even.”

He peeks back over the edge of the bed, slinging his forearm and elbow up against the mattress. His opposite hand behind him, against the floor, holding him in a sitting position. He’s grinning. Now he’s the one with heart eyes. “You love it.”

And you really do. God help you, you do. You love everything about him, and unfortunately for you that gives him the upper hand. You watch as he drags himself up and props his back up against the wall again. Stretching over to pull that little tobacco pouch back into his lap. He shakes it a little, rolls his neck and shoulders until you hear the distinct pop of his joints.

“Want me to roll you one?” he asks absently, next reaching for his papers.

You give him a confused look. “I don’t smoke, Michael.”

“I didn’t ask if you smoked, I asked if you wanted one.” He grins, sending a wink over your way as he bites down on the corner of a crumpled up paper. “Keeps your hands busy. Or makes you look cool. Or summat.” His eyes aren’t on you anymore, busy with the pouch in his lap instead.

You hum thoughtfully and turn onto your side to face him better, propping yourself up on an arm. “Can you teach me?”

Michael’s motions stop, his eyes darting up from his lap to yours— and then he blinks. “Teach you what?”

“To roll one.”

He freezes like your words just set sparks flying in his brain. Like every wire in there crossed and started misfiring at the same time. Then he breaks into the biggest, brightest, stupidest grin you’ve ever seen. It’s like you’ve given him the greatest gift a person could offer. “Fuckin’ yes, I can teach you,” he says, already moving to the edge of the bed, dragging his supplies with him. “Come here. Sit up. You’ve gotta get your thumbs in the right position or it all goes to shit.”

You sit cross-legged on the bed while he kneels at the side in front of you, body practically shaking with how excited he was. He places the pouch of Amber Leaf in your lap and flicks his eyes up to you, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he begins to speak. “Alright, first things first,” he says. “You ever seen anyone do this before?”

“I’ve seen you do it,” you roll your eyes at the question, huffing out your answer.

“Right, but did you pay attention? Or were you just eye-fucking me from across the room like usual?”

You sigh heavily, letting your eyes flutter closed for just a moment— biting back a smile, a bit of feigned annoyance in your tone. “Michael.”

“I’m just askin’!” He laughs and then begins to walk you through it step by step, correcting your clumsy fingers with gentle over-the-hand touches and a hell of a lot of swearing when you drop the paper or spill too much tobacco onto your linen bedspread. “Jesus Christ, do it gently, you’re not stuffing a fuckin’ turkey—” He’s grumbling under his breath, trying to scoop up the little bits of loose leaf threatening to coat your carpet.

“Michael!”

He laughs, dumping what he had gathered in his hand back into the pouch, “Alright, alright! You’re doin’ great, babe, really. Ten outta ten. No notes… Except everything you just did.”

But he’s patient with you, and his hands are so warm when they close over yours to show you again. You catch those pretty lips tugging up into a smile every time you giggle to yourself.

Eventually, you get one rolled. It’s lumpy and a little tragic, but it holds together. And Michael just beams at you like you’ve just painted the Mona Lisa. “Look at that! Fuckin’ beautiful. I’m so proud.”

You hand it to him, heat blooming out from the center of your chest and creeping up your neck. “Here. A gift for you, my love.” You grin, “Straight from my terrible hands to your very sexy mouth.”

Michael takes it, inspects it with a curt nod and then sticks it behind his other ear, he leans forward a bit more on the bed, reaching out to cup your face in those warm hands. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever found in a bed, d’you know that?” he says, chuckling softly, “now i’ve got ya makin rollies for me, you’re a dream.”

You laugh, a hand coming up to rest against his own cheek as he now fully pushes himself up onto your mattress, chasing the press of your lips. You’re giggling, back hitting the sheets, that pouch of Amber Leaf long forgotten. It’s just you, and Michael, and a badly rolled cigarette tucked behind his ear.

tags ;; @prettycalla @getaapologist

#glassbxttless #female reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joey quinn #joseph anthony francis quinn #michael hoard #michael hoard x reader #michael hoard x you #michael hoard x fem!reader #cw: cigarettes

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