#the flash is unmatched sorry

[ambipotentsbestie]

okay I just watched the amazing spider man for the first time and like, everyone who ever lied to me as a child and said that andrew had bad movies….LEAVE

[shotmrmiller]

1.8k of what was supposed to be a drabble, oops. same au as this just different situation.

there he is.

the titan the crowd calls Ghost. a creature who seemed to have crawled out of the abyss itself, rage etched into the very marrow of his bones. scars crisscross his arms, chest, and back— souvenirs of battles both won and lost. no one knows much about him. no real name, no past, no future. blank.

a void.

just like his sunken eyes, the only thing anyone can see from behind the midnight black skull balaclava that clings to his face like a second skin. (does he even remember what he looks like underneath?) he stands in front of the club's owner in ragged clothing: a tattered wifebeater that's been stitched, torn, and re-stitched. his pants have strained seams and patched knees. his boots are high cut, made of worn, scuffed leather with laces in the front, pulled tight. functional.

he's terrifying. most here come to fight for glory, for redemption, for escape. not he, though. reverent whispers claim this is all he knows. that he fights like a cornered, wounded beast, with no discipline nor strategy. just primal hunger and unmatched ferocity.

and that's who your idiotic, egotistical boyfriend wants to fight. granted, he's a pretty damn good boxer. not that you'd know much about that, you're simply parroting what you've heard his coach say. but this isn't boxing. no one here wears a padded helmet, with comfortable gloves and silky shorts. the fellow with the mohawk currently fighting isn't even wearing a mouthguard, for fuck's sake.

there are no fucking rules, no referees, no honor, no mercy.

your shoulders rise up to your ears as you tense at a nasty blow the pretty one you've come to learn is named gaz gives mr. mohawk. it splits his lip instantaneously, crimson dribbling down his chin and onto his barrel chest. he should be in pain, but there's only a glint of madness in those bright blue eyes of his. the crazed smile he gives gaz is all blood-stained teeth.

your boyfriend taps you on your shoulder, making you jump. "i'm gonna go talk to mr. price now that he's no longer busy."

what?

"no! you can't be serious!" the metal chair you were seated on screeches as you shoot up and run after him, feet slipping on the mud-slicked floor. "hey! wait!"

he reaches the tall, burly man(broker?) with the antiquated mutton-chop beard before you do. the tailored suit clings to his large frame, molding to his mountainous shoulders and tapered waist. his polished shoes are pristine, unlike the surface he's standing on that's littered with wager slips and sodden with cheap beer.

"don't. be smart, fight smart. you can't possibly— did you see the way the one with the mohawk took a hit to the face without flinching? he's insane! they all are!" you flick your eyes to mr. price. "no offense."

he chuckles low. "none taken, sweetheart. soap's a vigorous man, is all."

soap. gaz. ghost. they've all got bloody fighting nicknames. meanwhile, the only thing your boyfriend's ever been called is dearie by his elderly neighbor.

"your pretty girl's right. i'd steer clear of the pit. this ain't no place for a sheltered bloke such as yourself." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, yet it felt like a facade. the evenness of his tone had dread crawling up your spine.

"boss." you squeak at the deep voice that comes from beside you— accent thick on his tongue.

mr. price waves a hand dismissively, the rings that adorn his fingers glinting under the dim light of the overhead lamps. "it's nothin' but a couple a'folk placin' their bets."

the look of unfettered stupidity flashes on your boyfriend's face as he turns his head and realizes just who mr. price was talking to. "if it isn't the masked specter himself."

stupid. stupid stupid stupid. god, your boyfriend came in one piece but he's going to leave in bloody pieces if you don't stop him. "stop," you hiss. "this ridiculous stint of yours is over." as is this sorry excuse of a relationship. he'd been a sweet guy at some point, or maybe you were just blinded by his good looks. "sorry for the bother, mr. price. we'll be taking our leave." tugging on your boyfriend's sleeve, you try to lead him away but he stays anchored in place, posturing like a peacock; chest out, shoulders squared and head held high.

he looks at ghost as he challenges him. "name your price. anything, i can meet."

how he can be so blasé in the presence of this bastion is beyond you. ghost stands tall, his shadow engulfing you whole. you can feel the weight of his presence, a crushing force pressing against your sternum. he doesn't speak; and honestly, he doesn't have to. ghost's silence spoke volumes.

"he's not interested, see? let's just go before we're thrown out on our arses."

but your boyfriend doesn't concede. if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire. "not good enough for you? eh? is that it? think yourself untouchable just because you're king of the underbelly?" he goads.

your cheeks are hot, scalding with embarrassment. he's starting to garner attention from the audience that's supposed to be watching the current fight.

and then ghost breaks said silence. "i don't want your money." his rich voice reverberates through bone and marrow; it rattles your very core. "you didn't work hard for it, i can tell. golden spoon runt."

your boyfriend's eyes ignite with anger. for a moment, you thought he was going to swing on the spot, but then, like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated. his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes. "what do you want, then?" he questions.

ghost tips his head your way as he keeps his gaze on your boyfriend. "her. i win, she's mine."

you should've known your now ex would agree. nothing would keep him from accomplishing his goals of 'putting the big dog down' as he so eloquently put it. now you're firmly sat right next to price on the stands (because you will not be calling him john anytime soon, no matter how many times he corrects you) essentially as his hostage.

"nothing personal, sweetheart. i'm a businessman, after all, and the prize walkin' out the front door would be bad for business. hope you understand."

no, you don't. so you tell him as such.

"tha's alright. simon'll take good care of ya, i promise."

"is there any particular reason you're so cocksure of your simon winning?" you manage to ask, your voice fragile.

he takes a thick inhale of his cigar before answering. "unfortunately for you, i've seen it all— the broken bones, shattered dreams, and—" you watch tendrils of smoke unfurl from his mouth, "adversaries who never walked back out."

spectators have already begun to huddle around the cage, puffing on cheap cigarettes. they all look desperate, eyes gleaming with greed. this time the one collecting wagers is a blonde woman, older in age, with her hair in a low bun and a puffer vest. "that your wife?"

he curls a large hand around my shoulder before twisting to look at— "laswell? no. don't swing tha' way." price gives you a gentle squeeze.

oh. you can feel warmth creeping up your neck. "sorry. didn't mean to- er. i didn't know."

"'s'alrigh'. her wife's nice enough. you'll like 'er.'' her wife? the confusion must've shown because he rumbles out a laugh. "no. it'd be me barkin' up the wrong tree. i—" he tightens the grip on your shoulder, "like whatever's pretty to look at." his words from before resounded in your head.

'your pretty girl's right...'

the heat that'd receded now stung the tips of your ears. whatever words you want to say are lodged in your throat but thankfully, you're saved by the bell. literally.

the rusty thing tolls and the crowd hushes their voices and stills their restless shuffling. first walks in your ex (idiot), looking exactly like what ghost had called him earlier— a golden spoon child. his shorts are glossy, even under the flickering, sickly light that falls over the cage. his boxing gloves are a vibrant red, pristine as if right out of the box. (you don't remember soap getting his pretty face broken by hands with gloves, but whatever.) he looks perfect, like something out of a hollywood movie.

and so out of place.

unlike ghost who's just stepped into the ring— who commands the attention of all within the hazy room. he fits right in with the rats who scurry around in the bowels of the city. he moves like the shadows that cling to the dark corners, his steps silent as whispers. a haunted being— one the world above with its neon signs and bustling crowds has long forgotten— has made his home down here.

ghost bumps his mma gloves with your ex's boxing ones, in a show of surprising sportsmanship.

the bell tolls once again, and the fight begins.

and just as quickly as it began, it ended. you blink, momentarily displaced, because there is no way what just happened is real. there hadn't been no real fight. it'd been one devastating blow to the side of your ex's jaw that ended everything. he hadn't stood a chance. it—

"'s done. sorry, love. but simon's headin' this way to claim his prize." price gives you a sympathetic pat to your back. "i swear it on my life he won't harm a hair on your head."

what?

ghost barrels through the roaring crowd and comes to a stop before you. "you're with me, now. best get used to it." shock blurs your vision, or maybe it's the fact that you've been hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder that did it.

it doesn't matter. the one you came here with is currently lying limp on the stained mat, his mouth hanging open a little awkwardly. is he broken? you're put down on a bench in a large dressing room that has only one tall locker in it with a tiny ghost sticker on the front.

"did you... is he dead?" you ask, pulse quickening.

"no. either dislocated or broke tha' jaw of 'is only."

you sputter when metal clinks on the surface of the wooden table he's currently leaning his weight against. dusters? "you used fucking dusters?"

he turns his head and looks at you, piercing and intense. "you and i both know i didn't need anythin' to knock his teeth down his throat, isn't tha' right, pet? eh?"

his knuckles are calloused and heavily scarred, the little finger bent at an angle even when straight. "don't worry 'bout him, you're with me, now." he shrugs on a plain, black jacket and heads for the door. "try to leave and i'll jus' find you again. don't make this any harder than it has to be."

welcome to the rat king's domain, sweetheart.

[cheonstapes]

^^ Hello, how are you. Idk if this is the right place to send a request since I’m new to tumblr lol. I would like to make a request though it may seem a little weird. May I request Miguel O’Hara/Fem Spider-barbie reader. Reader’s outgoing and cheerful she has the aesthetic of a Barbie and gets along with other spiders, she’s not actual barbie doll btw lol. Miguel could be yelling and giving other spiders a hard time but whenever Spider Barbie’s around he’s the complete opposite. Spider barbie always helps calm him down whenever he loses his temper. Maybe one day he’s stressed and angry over a mission so spider barbie decides to calm him down with a back massage. Could also lead to some smut, only if you’re okay with writing that. No pressure. Thanks! ^^

miguel o'hara stars in... 'HI BARBIE! HI KEN!' ヽ(>∀<☆)

a/n ~ first request!!1!! i'm doing great, thank you so much. this isn’t weird at all- i spent all day writing this, it's so cute!! i had margot robbie's cowgirl fit in mind for reader when i was writing this, she's so beautiful omg, i think it suits spider-barbie's vibe really well💕 went a bit heavy with the smut but miguel's hot so it's valid- enjoy my love!

summary; miguel gets some stress relief from his favourite barbie girl.

pairing; miguel o’hara x fem!spider-barbie!reader

wc; 2.3k +

cw; SMUT!!, pining, oral sex, dry humping, facial, throat/face-fuckin, soft?dom!miguel, sub!reader, he's a lil mean but he loves you, praise kink, worshiping, hair pulling, miguel shouts at some people, f!masturbation, squirtinnn, miguel being sexy, NOT PROOFREAD!! i have a headache

“and you didn’t think to fucking report it to me?” miguel was seething, talons digging stripes into his desk as he glared down at the poor recruits below him. yes, they were new, but they fucked up an important mission- he wasn’t about to go easy on them. 

“por el amor de dios, do you three have any idea how serious this is? you could’ve-“  the spiders looked at each other, eyes of their masks comically wide as the drown out miguel’s rants to try and come up with some sort of excuse to justify the failed mission. “-and don’t even think about coming up with some bullshit excuse.” 

they froze, shaking their heads and hands rapidly as they nervously stuttered out, ‘no, of course not’, and, ‘we would never, boss’- miguel’s disapproving gaze boring holes into their masks, he jumps off the platform and stalks up to them. menacingly looming over them as his eyes flash red, lips pulled up in a snarl as his sharp fangs poke out under his top lip.

“don’t let this happen again, cause i swear i’ll-”suddenly, the doors of his lab slide open, a cheery voice ringing through the spacious room as all eyes flit towards the pink figure strutting in. the recruits blush under their masks, hearts beating rapidly at the sight of the sparkly spider- known across the spiderverse as the most perfect spider, spider barbie. 

“miguel? i brought you some lunch! oh- hi guys! sorry i didn’t mean to interrupt, i’m y/n, by the way.” you flash them a bright smile, glossy, plump lips glistening under the lights as you hold up the bag of food- the spiders wave frantically, greeting you with unmatched enthusiasm. miguel’s breath hitches at the sight of you, masking it with a roll of his eyes as he looks down at you- eyes softer compared to the harshness they had when looking at the recruits.

“it’s fine, y/n, we were done here anyway.” that was their cue to leave, the newbies scrambling to get out of the room, feeling the tension rising, but not without sending you shy smiles and whispered goodbyes you reciprocate with angelic kindness. miguel watches you intently, eyes locked on your every move. his eyes trail down the hot pink set you wore, the fat of your tits spilling out the tight top, curvy hips accentuated by the tightness of your flares - fuck, you are perfect.

he lets out a heavy sigh, his bulking frame towering over you as he takes the bag gently from your pretty hands, making sure to brush over them slightly. “what’d you get me this time, hm? empanadas again?” he has a crooked smirk on his lips as he opens the bag, his eyes still trained on you as you sit on the counter, the prettiest smile on your face. “actually, i got you some sushi this time. thought i should surprise you a little.” 

he allows himself to smile, the tension in his face easing in your presence. “yeah? how’d y’know i’d like sushi? you keeping tabs on me?” you giggle, stealing a piece of sushi from the platter. “wouldn’t you like to know. i asked lyla, actually, she’s very helpful.” his eyebrow raises, glancing over at the glowing hologram who appears to be lounging by the monitors, a small smile on her face hidden by a small magazine. 

“right, guess i’m gonna have to install a ‘keep your fuckin’ mouth shut’ feature now.” he mutters, secretly enjoying the thought of you knowing things about him he wouldn’t dare to tell anyone if they asked, relishing in the thread of connection you two share. you stand, moving around him to stand behind him, stretching up to grip his shoulders. 

“you ok, miguel? you seemed upset earlier.” you whisper in his ear, hands running down his arms innocently. he doesn’t think so though, the soft touch of your hands compared to his firm muscles igniting a tingling feeling in his belly - a soft groan leaving his parted lips as he leans into your touch. “‘m fine, the new recruits just pissed me off. nothin’ f’r you to worry ‘bout, pretty.” you smile slightly as he lets the pet name slip out, your hands running more sensually around his upper body, dipping into the crevices and curves of his chiseled body. 

“let me at least help you feel better, mig, your shoulders are tense as fuck.” you smirk playfully, leaning round his body to peer up at his face, eyes widening as you take him in. his eyes were slightly hooded, wetted lips open in pleasure, a faint tinge of red on his face. he looks down at you, panting softly as he sucks in a deep breath, nodding silently as he allows you to lead him wherever.

gently grasping his hand in yours, you lead him towards his large chair, sitting him down as you slide yourself in his lap. miguel’s head races with all sorts of thoughts, the tell tale sign of his arousal pressing against the crotch of your sparkling pants, his hands subtly moving you down to ease the ache in his lap. your lips pull into a empathetic pout, hands moving gracefully along the taut muscles of his shoulder blades, moving down to the ridges of his abs.

“how’s this feel? am i doing good?” the sweet tone in which you speak has him biting back a growl, his cock throbbing as he moves subtly against the plush folds of your cunt through the fabric. “ ‘s great, your- shit- your hands feel amazing, love. jus’…keep doing that, yeah?” you nod, biting your lip softly as you keep up your soft caresses. his head falls back against the chair, eyes closed in bliss- he looks so unbelievably handsome, sculpted jawline, high cheekbones, he’s just so mmh. 

you couldn’t help yourself, not when he was practically offering you a taste of him. his thick neck, littered with veins of various sizes, laid bare for you. you slowly moved in, small breaths warming the skin of his neck, heart pumping and hands trembling slightly. your glossy lips press light kisses on the flesh, shiny, pink, marks left behind. one hand moves up to rest on his chest as you feel a surge of boldness rush through you, leaning in once again to suckle on his skin. 

his eyes flit open, gazing down at you as you mark his neck with deep red and purple bruises, his hand lazily running up your spine as he grinds into you just a little harder. “hm? what happened to givin’ me a massage?” he flashes you a sexy grin, tilting his head at your ministrations- not that he minds of course.  you don’t respond, only small moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you continue to suck on his skin. his hand moves down to your chin, lifting your flushed face to meet his. “thought you were supposed to be makin’ me feel better? i can feel that pretty pussy soaking through y’r jeans, love. this turnin’ you on?” 

you nod, your beautiful face betraying your need for him. he lets out a deep chuckle, hands caressing your hips as he moves you to grind against him, the thin fabrics of both of your clothes letting you feel the engorged tip of his cock brushing against your clit. he breathes out a stuttered moan, gritting his teeth as he stares into your eyes, how could someone be so fuckin’ perfect? you had to have been made to torture him, to make his heart race and cock hard to every time he’s around you- hell, every time he thinks about you.

“miguel…” your whining snaps him out of his thoughts, his focus immediately zeroes back onto you. he pulls you closer, resting you against his bulky chest. “yeah? what’s up, baby? what d’you want?” his thumbs caress your nipples through the fabric of your top, the rough pads of his fingers making your pussy clench tightly, slick coating your puffy folds. you look up at him, hands pulling at the thin fabric of his suit. “i still wanna make you feel better…can-can i suck you off, please?” 

has he died? has miguel died and gone to heaven? or was this some kind of fucked up hell, there was no way he was hearing correctly. you, the sweet, innocent, barbie-esque, spider he’s been silently pining over for months now is asking him, so cutely, to suck his cock. he doesn’t think he’s been as eager to say yes to anything as he was now. he clicks a button on his wrist, his suit glitching away at his crotch. his cock is so pretty. a trail of dark hair leading down his navel, the tip a deep red, the rest tanned, throbbing veins wrapping around his length. it was fat, and shit, it was long too- pre dripping down the side of it as it, twitching the longer you stared at it.

your mouth waters, tongue darting out to lick your lips. your nimble hands wrap around his cock, a small gasp rings out in the room as your thumb runs along his tip, collecting the wetness and rubbing it around the tip. his fangs dig into his lips, speckles of blood pooling underneath the sharp tip. he sinks deeper into the chair, his suit dissipating more to reveal his thick thighs, a large hand coming to rest against one, the other caressing your cheek softly. “gonna wrap those pretty lips around me, baby? ‘m so hard, need you to make me feel better.” he didn’t expect to hear how needy he sounded, but he wasn’t embarrassed, he’s finally got you- and he wants you to know how badly he needs you.

he guides your head towards his aching cock, a hand moving to grip your hair tightly. he angles his length towards your shimmering lips, rubbing the tip all over, smearing his pre-cum along your gloss. a low, rumbling hum reverberates through his chest, quiet curses leaving his lips. he finally forces the fat head of his cock through your lips, simultaneously pushing your head down along the length of his cock. the sounds of you gagging fills his chest with a sense of pride, forcing you to take all of his thickness. it was so, so messy. saliva and creamy strips of cum dripped down the side of his cock, wetting your lips and pooling on top of his balls. he smiles at the sight, head lolling to the side, resting against a hard shoulder. 

“my pretty girl, can’t believe ‘m finally havin’ you like this. i- mm i would worship you, if you’d let me. you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby, a walkin’ goddess. and your lips, fuck, those perfect lips.” his mind is all scrambled, the feeling of you sucking the soul out of him rendering him a blubbering mess, resulting in him pouring his heart out to you. smiling around his cock, you look up him, those sexy eyes of yours gazing into his- a silent reciprocation of his affection towards you. at that, your lips suction around him faster, tighter, coaxing him into filling your mouth with his load.

his breathing deepens, sweaty chest heaving. at this point, his suit is gone. he doesn’t bother hold back his moans, deep growls and grunts that make curious spiders stop and listen in as they pass his lab, opting to not investigate what the big boss is up to further. but you, you’re a fuckin’ sight between his legs. mascara running down your hot cheeks, gloss, spit, and cum on your chin, running down your neck and between your cleavage. he didn’t think you could get even more beautiful, but here you were. 

“i’m ‘bout to cum, yeah? gonna fill that perfect mouth of y’rs with my all my cum, ‘n you’re gonna swallow it like the good girl i know you are, ok baby?” his hips buck frantically into your salacious mouth, holding the back of your neck tightly to keep you anchored at the base of his cock, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. his actions betrayed his sweet words, hands gently running over your face, wiping away stray tears as his cock abuses your poor throat. he catches a glimpse of you sliding a hand down the front of your pants, pushing aside your panties to rub against your sticky clit.

‘so cute’. he smiles, revelling in your soft whimpers and your shaky thighs- the squelch of the three fingers you plunged into you almost drowning out the slick gluck! gluck! gluck! of your throat. “fuck, baby, i can hear her from here. she’s so wet just from suckin’ me off, isn’t she?” your fingers speed up, his voice a sexy, deep drawl- lips quirked back up in a smirk, but it was short lived as he felt his balls tighten, orgasm threatening to take over him.

his leg bounces, your mouth was just so wet, so fuckin’ hot- he couldn’t take it anymore. he’s waited so long to feel you around him, to see you take him so beautifully. his body tenses, a low growl of your name leaving his plump lips. his cum spurts out in steady streams, your cheeks puffing out from the sheer amount he unloads into your mouth. it drips out the side of your lips, you struggle to hold it all in, letting it drip down your neck. 

you choke on the liquid in your mouth, your orgasm squirting out onto the cold floor of his lab. he laughs breathlessly, he was so whipped for you. watching his pretty, little, angel cum so perfectly for him. his cock lets out a few more spurts on your cheeks, twitching again when you struggle to swallow his load down. he wipes away the cum on your cheeks, dipping his thumb back into your mouth to let you lick the remnants off. he smiles softly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back onto his lap, running hands up and down your back lovingly.

“s-so, d’you feel better now?”

“mm, think there’s just one more thing i need. spread your legs f’r me, baby.”

*por el amor de dios - for the love of god

-gonna take a cold shower now

[tsumuus]

The air was charged with excitement and anticipation as athletes from around the world gathered in the Olympic Village for their first dinner. The buzz of conversation filled the dining hall, a blend of languages and laughter. Toru Oikawa, the star setter for Japan’s beach volleyball team, scanned the room with his trademark confident grin. His eyes landed on a table where a group of female beach volleyball players were seated, their camaraderie evident in their animated discussions.

Among them, one woman caught his eye. Your laughter was infectious, your presence magnetic. You were talking to your teammate, your eyes sparkling with excitement. Oikawa nudged his own teammate, who was busy devouring a plate of pasta.

“Who’s that?” Oikawa asked, nodding towards you.

His teammate glanced over and shrugged. “No idea, but she’s definitely out of your league.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Watch and learn.”

With a self-assured stride, he made his way to the table, flashing his most charming smile. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said smoothly. “Mind if I join you?”

You and the women looked up, some blushing, others giggling. You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “If you’re looking for an autograph, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. We’re not celebrities here.”

Oikawa chuckled. “I’m not here for an autograph. Just thought I’d introduce myself. Toru Oikawa, Japan’s beach volleyball team. And you are?”

You exchanged a glance with your teammate before responding. “yn ln. Nice to meet you, Oikawa.”

He took a seat beside you, undeterred by your cool demeanor. “You know, yn, I heard the best way to relax before a big game is to spend time with someone interesting. How about we go for a walk later?”

You smirked. “And you think you’re that interesting, do you?”

“Absolutely,” Oikawa said with a wink. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

You laughed, a sound that made his heart skip a beat. “Sorry, Oikawa. I’m here to win gold, not to play games. But good luck with your matches.”

He watched as you and your teammate stood up and left the table, your laughter echoing in his ears. For a moment, he was stunned by the rejection but quickly brushed it off. There were plenty of other fish in the sea, after all.

The next day, Oikawa and his team decided to catch the women’s beach volleyball games before their own practice. The stadium was packed with cheering fans, the atmosphere electric. As the match started, Oikawa’s attention was immediately drawn to the court where you and your teammate were playing.

You were a force of nature on the sand, your movements precise and powerful. Oikawa found himself captivated, unable to tear his eyes away. Your skill and endurance were unmatched, and as the match progressed, he could feel his admiration growing.

“Wow,” His teammate muttered beside him. “She’s incredible.”

Oikawa nodded, his eyes never leaving you. “Yeah, she is.”

When the final point was scored, securing your team the gold, the stadium erupted in applause. Oikawa watched as you celebrated with your teammate, your joy infectious. In that moment, he knew he had to see you again.

After the match, Oikawa made his way to where you and your team were gathered. He approached you with a confident stride, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Congrats on the win, yn,” he said, his voice warm. “You were amazing out there.”

You turned to him, a hint of surprise in your eyes before it was replaced with amusement. “Thanks, Oikawa. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I couldn’t miss a chance to watch such an incredible match,” he replied. “You really stood out.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Is this another attempt to ask me out?”

“Guilty as charged,” Oikawa admitted with a grin. “How about we celebrate your win with dinner tonight?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Sorry, but I’ve got plans with my team. Maybe another time.”

He sighed dramatically. “You keep breaking my heart, yn. At least come watch our game tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally saying, “We’ll see.”

Despite your noncommittal response, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope.

Throughout your time at the Olympics, you and Oikawa seemed to run into each other constantly. Each encounter was filled with your usual banter and playful teasing, creating a tension between you that was impossible to ignore. Oikawa's persistence never waned, and each time, you would laugh and turn him down, but always with a smile.

One morning, you were in the gym, focused on your workout. The rhythmic sound of weights clinking and the hum of treadmills filled the air. You were in the zone, completely absorbed in your routine, when a familiar voice interrupted your concentration.

"Hey, yn! Need a spotter?"

You looked up to see Oikawa, grinning from ear to ear, a towel slung over his shoulder. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips. "I think I can manage, Oikawa."

He feigned a look of disappointment. "Oh, come on. Let me help. I promise not to distract you... too much."

You shook your head, but moved aside, allowing him to take position behind you. As you continued your reps, you could feel his eyes on you, and it made your heart race a little faster. Despite his playful demeanor, he was genuinely helpful, offering tips and encouragement.

After your set, you sat up, wiping sweat from your brow. "Thanks for the help. Didn't think I'd see you here so early."

He shrugged, taking a seat on the bench next to you. "I could say the same about you. Thought you'd be sleeping in after that intense match yesterday."

You smirked. "Rest is for the weak."

He laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Spoken like a true champion. How about we grab a smoothie after this? My treat."

You shook your head, still smiling. "Nice try, Oikawa. Maybe next time."

He sighed dramatically. "You keep breaking my heart, yn. But I'll keep trying."

Another evening, you found yourself in the dining hall, scanning the array of international cuisine laid out before you. You were reaching for a plate of sushi when a hand beat you to it.

"Great minds think alike," Oikawa said, holding up the plate with a triumphant grin.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing another plate. "Don't you have your own food to eat?"

He shrugged, following you to a nearby table. "Food tastes better with good company."

You sighed but didn't protest as he sat across from you. As you ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with your usual banter and playful teasing. He regaled you with stories of his teammates and their antics, and you found yourself laughing more than you'd expected.

"You're not so bad, Oikawa," you admitted after a particularly funny story about his teammate's failed attempt to cook ramen.

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning shock. "Was that a compliment? From the great yn? I'm honored."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Don't let it go to your head."

He leaned forward, his expression turning serious for a moment. "I mean it, though. You're pretty amazing, yn. On and off the court."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words but quickly masked it with a smirk. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Oikawa."

"We'll see about that," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

One afternoon, you decided to relax by the pool, hoping to get some peace and quiet. You found a secluded spot, laid out your towel, and settled down with a book. The sun was warm on your skin, the sound of water splashing around you creating a soothing background noise.

Just as you were getting lost in the pages of your book, a shadow fell over you. You looked up to see Oikawa, dripping wet from the pool, a wide grin on his face.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, shaking his wet hair like a dog, droplets of water splashing onto you.

You held up your book as a shield, laughing despite yourself. "Do you follow me everywhere?"

"Only when you're somewhere interesting," he replied, plopping down on the towel next to you.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "And what makes you think I want your company?"

He shrugged, stretching out beside you. "I figured you could use some entertainment. How's the book?"

"Better before you showed up," you teased, closing it and setting it aside.

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Always so harsh, yn. So, how about a swim? Bet I can beat you in a race."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that a challenge?"

He nodded, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Absolutely. Loser buys dinner."

You considered for a moment before standing up. "You're on."

The race was close, both of you pushing yourselves to the limit. You felt a thrill of competition, matching Oikawa stroke for stroke. In the end, you won by a hair, emerging from the pool breathless but triumphant.

Oikawa climbed out after you, panting and laughing. "I guess I owe you dinner."

You smirked, wringing out your hair. "You can keep your dinner. The victory is enough."

He shook his head, still smiling. "One of these days, yn, you're going to say yes to me."

You laughed, grabbing your towel. "Keep dreaming, Oikawa."

As you walked away, you couldn't help but glance back, finding him watching you with that same mischievous grin. The tension between you was undeniable, but you were determined not to let him win so easily.

As the Olympic Games drew to a close, Oikawa realized his time was running out. On the last day in the village, he made one final attempt to find you. He went to your room, but it was empty. He searched the dining hall and common areas, but there was no sign of you.

Desperate, he spotted your teammate and rushed over. “Where is she? I need to see her.”

“She left for the airport about an hour ago,” your teammate replied. “Her flight isn’t for another three hours, though.”

Heart pounding, Oikawa hurried to the airport. When he arrived, he scanned the crowded terminals until he finally spotted you at the baggage check-in.

He jogged over, slightly out of breath. “Wait!”

You turned, surprised to see him. “Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you how I feel. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re incredible, and I can’t stop thinking about you. Can I at least have your number? Maybe we could go out sometime once we’re back home.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your teammate told me,” he admitted, his eyes earnest. “I could have asked for your number from her, but I wanted to do this right. I wanted to tell you in person.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made his heart race. “That’s surprisingly romantic, Oikawa.”

“So, will you give me your number?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

You nodded, pulling out your phone. “Alright. Here’s my number. And maybe, just maybe, we can go out sometime.”

He grinned, relief and happiness flooding through him. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

As you walked away to board your flight, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something amazing. He watched you go, his heart light with anticipation for what the future might hold.

a/n not my best, a lot of it is just empty words idk how to explain it lol, but lowk a bit loooooonger than i thought it was gonna be lol

masterlist

[notaboypossiblyagenius]

bringing home to you — e.prentiss

content: reader can be interpreted as anxious and self concious, i didn’t mean for it to read that way🙄 anyways, it’s just fluff. emily says like 3 words in spanish.

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: been a few sleepless nights, so have this lowkey vent fic. also tysm for 50 followers? :D I can’t believe 50 of you are interested in what I have to share, u guys are the bestest ever <3

reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

You tossed and turned, unable to find sleep. It was expected; your first night in a new house, sleep wouldn’t come easy. But, after an hour of the restless cycle, you picked up your phone which had been placed at a distance to avoid distraction.

A picture of you and Emily beamed in the darkness of the room, causing you to squint your eyes as you accustomed to the brightness. 2:33 am flashed in bright white across the top of your screen and a weary sigh left your lips as you typed the password in an almost automatic manner.

Your fingers hovered over the call button as you glanced around the room, the bare walls seemed to shroud you, and the quietness of the apartment shrilled in your ears. It was deafening. 

You dialed Emily. It rang once, twice, before the sweet sound of her voice washed over your restless mind, seeping into the ragged and anxious edges that poked at your sleep.

“Baby?” she asked, concern laced in her tone. 

“Em, hi.” you breathed, starting to regret calling. You hadn’t realized the hour, it was late. 

Really late.

“Did I wake you? ‘m sorry.” the apologies rolled off your tongue in an instant as you realized that she’d probably been sleeping.

“No, no you didn’t. I was awake.” She soothed.

“You ok?” Her words did more for your sleeplessness than any relaxation technique ever could.

“Yeah, I just…” you trailed off, picking at the fabric of your pillowcase. The frayed edges getting caught between your fingers as you fidgeted. “Can't sleep.” Your voice, quiet and unsteady, reflected the tumultuous feelings that brewed in your tired mind.

The admission felt pathetic, and bashfulness seeped into your face as the words left your mouth. You didn’t want to burden Emily, she already had enough on her plate.

“oh, Amor, what’s wrong?” The soft breath she’d let out crackled over your speakers, and in the background you could hear the rustling of her sheets and the faintest of chirps by Sergio.

Silence washed over the two of you as the shame bubbled up in your chest, you felt like a child scared of the monsters in her closet. “new place, I guess..” you whispered, “it doesn’t feel right.” 

The silence washed over the line again and you were about to tell Emily to forget about it. That you were just being childish and that none of this mattered. That you’d be over it in the morning and that surely it was just another one of yo—

“Do you want me to come over?” Her voice cut through the fast-paced spiral of your thoughts, and your breath caught. You didn’t want to impose, but it would really help.“Would that help you sleep?” 

You picked at the frayed edges of the pillowcase once more as you considered, sleep seemed fleeting at this point and you knew that with her by your side you’d at least relax. You nodded as if she could see you, your breathing crackling on her end. “Please?” you whispered meekly, as if speaking any louder would make her change her mind.

“Okay,” she replied, and you could hear the soft smile you’d grown to love in her tone. “It’s only a 5-minute drive, you okay to hang up?” she was sickeningly sweet about it, her voice laced with a gentleness that would’ve made you feel patronized had it been anybody else, but you knew she was being genuine.

“Actually, could you stay on the phone?” You asked, sitting up in bed as you awaited her arrival. You figured that sitting in silence for 5 minutes probably wouldn’t do your racing mind any good.

“Of course, I can, sweet girl.” The tenderness in her voice was unmatched and the sound of it enveloped you in a warmth that your current blanket failed to provide.  “Okay, I am putting my shoes on right now.” 

The call was wordless save for the sounds of Emily’s movements.

You could hear the rustling of her moving the phone from one shoulder to the other, and her soft breathing as she grabbed her keys. Her door opening, closing, locking, and the descent of her stairs. You took a deep breath and let the ambiance coming from Emily’s end wash out the deafening silence of this new place you were supposed to call home.

Your eyelids felt heavier as each sound filled the emptiness of your room. The echo of your loneliness slowly faded under the comfort of her mundane movements. You could hear the distant bustle of the city streets, even at this hour. The beep of her car unlocking, the rustle as she buckled her seatbelt.

“What were you doing awake?” you murmured, your eyelids fluttering against the growing weight of sleep, the walls of this strange new room blending together into a blurry haze of shadows and light.

Emily could hear the grogginess beginning to seep into your tone and she let out a quiet huff, “I was finishing up some files,” her hands tapped lightly against the steering wheel as your new building came into view. It really was a 5-minute drive.

You sighed as you realized you’d pulled her away from work; the last thing you wanted to do was impose on her. 

“nothing major, just some after-action reports, they can wait.” It was clear in her tone that she knew you’d felt bad, and she seemingly pulled the apology right out of your mouth.

“So I'm not imposing?” you teased, as you ran your hand across the soft fabric of your blankets, smoothing out the bumps and ridges.

“Nunca, mi amor.” she laughed softly, and the hum of her engine ceased. You heard the soft jingle of her keys and the echoing shut of her door in the parking lot. “I’ll see you upstairs, okay?” She asked though it wasn’t a question. She was telling you that it was okay, that she was here now. 

A soft hum of agreement crackled over her speakers and she hung up as she walked into your building. She fished through her keys and found the spare you’d given her this morning when she had helped you with boxes. She took quiet steps up the stairs to the second floor, mindful of the time. 

She reached your door, the hallway light buzzed above her as she inserted the key. The door creaked open and she was met by boxes strewn about the room—some closed, others open with a variety of its contents littered about the space. The sight created a flurry of emotions within her— She usually refrained from profiling you, but it was obvious you were reluctant about the space. Nothing was unpacked. Nothing but stacks of books you’d started sorting through, and that made her smile because it was so characteristically you.

Once she’d weaved past the boxes and opened your door, she found you sitting against the headboard, picking at the edge of your sheets. Exhaustion was written all over your face, the warm light provided by the lamp you’d plugged into the corner highlighting all of your features as you smiled up at her.

“What's this about not being able to sleep?” she teased gently as she took off her shoes and sweater. You thought she looked beautiful like this, in sweatpants that were obviously a size too big by the way they hung on her hips and shirts that seemed to be hanging on by a thread—It was a side that was often overridden by the officiality of her job, you loved it.

Her presence immediately warmed up the room and seemingly took your uneasiness with it.

You laughed sheepishly at her tease, scooting over on the bed as she padded across the room and towards you. “Mmm, It doesn’t feel right,” you answered as she slipped underneath the sheets. Her perfume still clung to her clothes, and the scent filled your senses as you settled into her arms. She was quick to hold you, her arms instinctively wrapping around your shoulders as you laid your head on her shoulder. Her legs intertwined with yours, and the warmth of her sweatpants seeped onto your bare legs. 

“Doesn’t feel right?” She asked, running her fingers through your hair with a tenderness you couldn’t begin to understand. You nodded, and tilted your head up, meeting her gaze.

You flitted your gaze about her face, scanning the sharpness of her features, how they seemed to effortlessly come together and synthesize the love of your life. 

“Doesn’t feel like home.” 

Emily let out a quiet hum, mirroring your actions and allowing her eyes to roam your face. She took your chin between her index finger and thumb, angling your face up slightly. “We’ll fix that,” She whispered, and her tone was so sincere it made your heart lurch in your chest, unable to understand how you were worthy of such love. 

“Yeah?” you asked, quietly. 

“Yeah.” 

She followed with a soft nod, the conviction of it making it sink deep into your being, we’ll fix it.

You gave her a nod of your own, and she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, the softness of it making you smile. You snaked a hand up her shirt, seeking the warmth of her body as you rested it on her abdomen. The sensation shot a shiver up Emily’s spine and she let out a laugh against your lips. 

When you pulled back, you were met by two half-moons carved into her cheeks and you leaned in and pressed another kiss to her lips. Just because you could.

“What was that for?” she asked, brushing hair out of your face.

“A reward,” you responded as you settled your head back onto her chest.

“For what?” she chuckled, furrowing her brows as she looked down at you. 

“The long, treacherous trip.” The response flowed from you as if it was an obvious answer and Emily laughed again, shaking her head at your teasing tone.

“Go to sleep,” she replied, pushing your head in retaliation for falling into your dumb joke.

As you finally gave in to the heaviness of your gaze, Emily's heartbeat served as a soft rhythm for you to follow as you drifted off. The continuous movement of her fingers down the length of your hair pacified your restless mind.

And suddenly the room wasn’t as intimidating and unfamiliar. The walls no longer seemed to shroud you, and the silence was no longer deafening.

She’d already fixed your uneasiness, she’d brought home to you.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader (Justice League Unlimited!Bruce)

Summary: When all adults are banished from earth, you join Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern in a unique fight to save the world. Along the way, some hidden feelings are revealed.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for Justice League Unlimited 1x3 "Kid's Stuff", fluff, mention of beheading, canon-level violence and action

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

A/N: I can't tell you how many times I've watched this show because Kevin Conroy's Batman in the DCAU tv shows is unmatched (and the kids who did the voice acting in this episode did phenomenally). I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Part 2: Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids >

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | DC Masterlist | Request Info

You are in a unique position for several reasons. Being one of the only human members of the Justice League, you find yourself pushing yourself to be the best you can and ensuring that you can keep up with your superpowered teammates. Plus, you are one of the only people who knew Bruce Wayne before you knew Batman, and no matter how much he denies it, you knew after one look that the man under the cowl was none other than your favorite billionaire. When you first arrived on the Watchtower with your fellow vigilante, you wondered if any of the superheroes (especially those who had unique mind powers) could tell that you wanted to be more than fellow crime fighters with Batman. If they did, no one said anything, so your secret crush has remained secret as it grows stronger.

“Bats,” you warn as you duck away from Cheetah’s claws.

Bruce flips away from Deadshot’s line of fire before rushing up beside him. He punches under his jaw, and you watch as Deadshot lifts Bruce off the ground. Bruce throws a batarang, and you slide away from them as Deadshot falls to the floor.

“Guess that’s a wrap,” Green Lantern says. At Bruce’s look, he adds, “Sorry. Been hanging out with Flash too much.”

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” you tease.

You look away from John and see three police officers entering the vault. A pink wave follows them inside, and your eyes widen when the officers disappear. Bruce pulls you to his side as John creates a forcefield with his ring, but it fails nearly as quickly as it appears.

When you open your eyes on a floating rock, you’re still tucked against Bruce’s side. You step back quickly and look around. Dozens of rocks surround you and each holds numerous people; adults only, you notice.

“It was judgment day,” Copper exclaims, “and- and we got sent to the bad place. The bad place!”

“Where else were you expecting to go?” you ask sarcastically.

“Snap out of it, Copper!” Cheetah demands as she slaps him.

“Yeah, calm down,” John calls. “We’re probably just in another dimension.”

“I don’t see any children,” Bruce says.

“You would be the one to notice,” you murmur. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add when he directs his bat glare at you.

“That’s because a child is responsible,” a woman wearing a mask interjects as she hovers above you.

“Morgaine Le Fay,” Bruce greets, though he’s prepared to fight rather than exchange niceties and introductions.

“Great, magic,” you mutter as you fall in line between Bruce and Diana.

“I mean you no harm,” Morgaine assures. “My son Mordred has wrought this treachery. Banishing all adults to this shadow realm.”

“Do you think Flash is here?” you whisper to John.

“50/50,” he answers.

“After I spent millennia feeding him, bathing him, preparing him to be a king,” Morgaine continues. “Where did I go wrong?”

“You’re a sorceress. Can’t you just undo his spell?” Diana asks.

“No. He’s got the amulet of first magic. He’s too powerful. But if we all work together…”

“You want us to defeat your own son?” Bruce clarifies.

“So don’t trust me. Let him rule the world and all your children. Here we will stay. Forever.”

“But what can we do? We’re stuck here, aren’t we?” Diana says.

“Please don’t say-“ you begin.

“Not exactly,” Morgaine answers.

“That,” you finish as your shoulders slump.

“The spell only banishes adults.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you and John say together.

“It’s the only way,” Morgaine says.

“We have to do it,” Clark announces.

John exhales deeply, and you step back to be at Bruce’s side again. Magic has never been your preferred battle, and as Morgaine directs her spell at you and everything turns green, you clutch Bruce’s cape in your hand.

When you arrive in Mordred’s amusement park-turned-kingdom, you’re ready to leave. Being turned into a kid again wasn’t exactly on your superhero bingo card, and as a human, you don’t bring much to the fight anyway.

“I hope this is temporary,” Bruce complains.

You look over at him and feel butterflies in your stomach. Despite de-aging, you still have a crush on Bruce, but it hits harder and faster. You tear your eyes away from him and try to calm your racing heart. Each moment you live as a kid, you’ll start acting more like one.

“You sound weird,” Clark says. “Whoa. So do I.”

Diana looks between Clark and John before straightening her shoulders. She towers over them and smiles. “I kind of like this.”

“Why are you squinting?” you ask John.

Bruce, Clark, and Diana look over after you ask, and you drop your eyes to avoid looking at Bruce again.

“I wore glasses as a kid. Guess I need ‘em again,” John answers.

A pair of oversized green glasses appear on his face, and he jumps in surprise. They’re nothing like what adult John would create, and you stifle a laugh at the sight of them.

“I didn’t even try to make these!” he exclaims.

Clark laughs as Bruce says, “I hope not.”

You pat John’s back as he focuses on making nicer glasses. Once he’s ready and Clark compliments his new look, Diana reminds you that you’re supposed to be looking for Mordred.

“Bet the little punk’s in there,” Bruce says.

He points to the castle looming in the distance and begins running. You run behind him and watch as Diana, Clark, and John fly past you.

“It’s not a race,” Bruce grumbles.

He speeds up, but you keep your pace and make it to the castle all the same. Despite the earlier teasing about John’s glasses, none of you have mentioned any differences between the kid and adult versions of one another. You’re thankful, though, because reliving your childhood is not your favorite pastime. When you enter the castle, you stay behind Bruce as he stands beside Diana.

“The Justice Babies!” Mordred calls before laughing.

“What are you laughing at, precious?” Bruce asks.

“Precious?” you repeat.

“You,” Mordred answers. “Mother sent you, didn’t she?”

“Maybe she wanted a chance to have a normal kid,” you taunt.

“She shouldn’t send a boy to do a man’s job,” Mordred tells Bruce.

He grabs the amulet, and you watch as a young boy’s toys come to life. They grow until they’re giant, and you stumble backward before running for cover. When Clark flies into one of them and is knocked to the floor, you begin questioning if it was truly a good idea to become kids to fight a boy with powerful magic.

“Bruce, batarang,” you request.

He hands you one before running toward Mordred. You wait for one of the toys to run toward you before sliding between its legs.

“I’ll make a laser cannon. No, a missile launcher,” John says above you. “Oh! Oh, I know.”

“Just pick something!” you and Bruce yell together.

You dig the batarang into the back of the toy’s leg and roll to the side as it collapses to the ground before disappearing. Bruce and John take one out, while Clark disables the other with his laser vision.

When you hear Bruce grunting and see him dangling from his cape in the grip of the last toy, you gasp and run toward him. Diana beats you there and catches him.

“You okay, tough guy?” she asks.

“Let go. I’m fine,” Bruce demands as he struggles to get out of her hold.

His shoulders drop and his cape surrounds him as he sulks. You don’t ask the same question Diana had but thank him for the batarang as he passes.

“That’s not fair,” Mordred complains.

“Get him!” Bruce calls.

You run behind Diana and aren’t surprised when you’re all encased in ice. Mordred is powerful, and you and your fellow “Justice Babies” seem to be forgetting that. When you fall into a dungeon and are freed from the ice, you scoot toward Bruce. One of the cells opens, and red eyes glow within. You clutch Bruce’s cape and watch as a small demon walks out.

“Etrigan?” Bruce asks.

He steps away from you, and his cape slips through your fingers. You stay behind John’s forcefield as Diana lifts Bruce out of the way of Etrigan’s flame. Diana has been closer to Bruce during this mission than usual, and the butterflies in your stomach start causing more pain than happiness as you wonder if they’ve been hiding feelings for one another in the Watchtower, too.

“Don’t hurt him!” Bruce yells as Clark pulls Etrigan away from you and John.

Etrigan bites Clark’s arm, and he calls, “Tell him that!”

“C’mere,” you tell Etrigan. You crouch to the floor and pull him into your arms. “Stop!”

He calms down, and Diana helps Bruce up as Etrigan cries. You look at Bruce and shrug.

“He’s just a baby,” Diana says.

“And he needs more than a hug,” John adds, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Now, that is a job for Superman,” Bruce says.

Bruce takes Etrigan from your arms and passes him to Clark. When Bruce takes your hand to lead you out of the dungeon, you nearly trip over your own feet. You’ve never been more ready to grow up before, you think.

Mordred’s new kingdom is comprised mostly of children doing what they were never allowed to do before. When you walk through the paths surrounding what used to be the center of the park, you are surrounded by children doing dangerous stunts and breaking rules.

“You two, knock that off!” Clark demands when he sees two boys playing with wooden swords.

“What are you gonna do? You’re just a kid,” they taunt.

Clark shoots a laser between them and answers, “I’m the kid with laser beams coming out of his eyes.”

“That’s just gonna scare them,” you interject before they run away screaming. “You can’t threaten kids the same way you threaten criminals.”

“Then what do we do?” John asks.

“Tattle,” Diana answers. She flies to an elevated area and yells, “That’s enough!”

Everyone freezes, and you find yourself reaching for Bruce.

“You can’t tell us what to do! You’re not our mom!” someone replies.

“No, but I promise you we will find all of your moms and I’m gonna tell!” Diana answers.

“Well, what should we do?”

“Go outside and wait for your parents. Now!” Diana demands with a hand on her hip.

“Man, your girlfriend sure is bossy,” John tells Bruce.

“Shut up,” he replies before leaving John’s side.

Those butterflies in your stomach become dead weight. You stall behind John, but he turns to look at you.

“You like Bruce,” he accuses.

“What? No!” you answer too quickly. “We’re friends.”

“Mmhmm.”

John gestures for you to come with him, and you follow Bruce together. You know that John knows more than he ever lets on, and if anyone found out about your crush, you suppose you should be glad that it’s the one who can keep a secret. Better him than Wally.

“He’s almost asleep,” Diana whispers as you look into Mordred’s hideout. “We can take him.”

“I’ll make a lawnmower and chew him up,” John suggests.

“A lawnmower?” you repeat incredulously. “Why?”

“I say we get that amulet away from him first,” Bruce says. “We’ll split up and sneak behind him. Then Lantern can do his thing. But no mowers.”

“Why?” John questions.

“Because it’s stupid,” Clark answers.

“He’ll hear it, too,” you whisper with much more kindness than Clark.

“I guess I’ll go with Clark,” Diana says. “Unless I should go with you,” she tells Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce answers.

John sees your eyes drop and says, “Clark can go alone. I’ll go with Diana.”

You appreciate it but shake your head because you don’t want to be left alone with Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce repeats.

“Go,” John whispers.

You lead Bruce around the side of the cave, and John shakes his head as he watches you go.

“What’s with them?” Clark asks.

“Really?” Diana questions.

“Man, for somebody with fifty different kinds of vision you are so blind,” John responds.

“What?”

“Is that a claw?” you ask Bruce as John tries to get the amulet.

“Unfortunately,” he answers.

He may be young, but his sarcasm hasn’t changed a bit. You lean against him when John’s claw wavers before disappearing. The amulet falls to Mordred’s chest, and Bruce moves you carefully as he calls, “Get the amulet!”

You join Bruce, Diana, Clark, and John in a failing attempt to hold Mordred down and take the amulet. He uses his magic to grow and throws Bruce and Diana off of him before standing. A young girl is standing nearby, and you take her hand to lead her to safety as the others fight Mordred.

“Bats!” you yell, just as you had as an adult this morning.

Bruce looks back and sees the living gargoyle chasing him and John and directs John toward a small bridge.

“Close the door!” you yell as Bruce enters the castle.

Diana closes and locks the door behind him, and you listen to John come up with complicated plans to stop Mordred as Bruce thinks.

“Forget it!” Bruce calls after John mentions giant handcuffs. “We’ve got to focus on…” Bruce’s eyes lock with yours and he says, “Never mind what I just said. We’ll take care of everything else. Lantern, you go crazy.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“It’s time for all of us to grow up,” Bruce answers.

He takes your hand before running toward another area of the kingdom. Your butterflies begin reviving, and you wonder if anything will be the same after this.

“Go!” he yells to Clark.

Clark pulls the amulet from Mordred’s neck while he’s distracted by John before tossing it to Bruce.

“This is the most dangerous game of keep away I’ve ever played,” you yell as you take the amulet from Bruce and run it to Diana. Diana throws it to Etrigan, and you flinch when he bites into it. The wave of purple magic that escapes it is unsettling, but you don’t take your eyes off Mordred.

“I already absorbed too much of the amulet’s power,” Mordred says as he stands.

He uses his magic to suspend all of you, and Etrigan, upside down in the air. He pulls a sword from a nearby stone, and it turns purple before reappearing as a curved blade.

“I’ll take care of my kingly duty myself,” he declares.

“Is he really going to behead us in an amusement park?” you ask with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m scared,” the girl you helped earlier says. “I want my mommy.”

Mordred lowers his blade to say, “You don’t need a mommy. You’re better off without one. Trust me.”

“Ooh, mommy issues,” John muses. “Those ain’t easy.”

The girl begins crying and Clark taunts, “Some king.”

“I’m not impressed,” Diana agrees.

“What’d you expect? He’s a boy doing a man’s job,” Bruce finishes.

“You don’t know what it’s like being stuck as a kid,” Mordred says.

“Since you’ve had all that power, you could have been a man anytime you wanted. I think you’re too chicken to grow up.”

“Yep, big chicken. That’s what you are,” John agrees, flapping his arms like wings. “Bock, bock.”

“Face it, precious,” Bruce continues. “You like being a little mama’s boy.”

“I’ll show you!” Mordred yells. “I’ll show you all.”

“Sure, you will,” you agree with an eye roll.

“And when I am a true king, I’ll start with the human!” Mordred adds, pointing to you.

Bruce looks at you, but you keep your eyes on Mordred as he spreads his arms and is surrounded by purple ribbons of magic. Etrigan claps as Mordred’s spell spreads, and he reappears as a man.

“I’m older than you now,” Mordred says as he turns to face you.

The magic released his spell, and you catch yourself as you fall from the air.

“You sure are,” Bruce says.

Mordred disappears, banished by his own spell. As an adult, he couldn’t stay, and now you can only wait until Morgaine does her part. Bruce steps to your side and you turn your face toward him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer just before Morgaine appears.

“A bargain is a bargain,” she says as she waves her hand before you.

The spell is lifted, and you are an adult again in only a second. You hadn’t prepared for the change in size however and are pressed against Bruce’s chest with the sudden growth. He makes no move to get space from you, though.

“Mommy,” Etrigan coos at Diana.

She drops him and steps back. You chuckle at the scene and Diana looks at you with furrowed brows before smiling and rolling her eyes.

Morgaine opens a portal, and Bruce places a hand on your hip as he steps around you.

“Wait,” he calls. “What happened to Mordred?”

“My spell gave him eternal youth but now that he’s broken it all he has is eternal life,” she answers.

“Circumstances aside, it was kind of enjoyable to be a kid again,” Diana says.

You walk to Bruce’s side and watch the happy reunions of children with their parents.

“I’m sorry,” you offer softly.

“For what?” he asks.

“You just- you didn’t get to be a kid like the rest of us.”

“Perhaps Diana was right. It wasn’t completely unenjoyable.”

He turns toward you, and his arm is pressed to your shoulder.

“You’re telling me the big, bad bat had a little bit of fun?” you tease.

“You never talk about your childhood,” he deflects. “So, I’m sorry if this brought up bad memories.”

“Just dead butterflies,” you answer.

Bruce glares at you, but it’s the one unique to when he’s reading you.

“Is that why Lantern sent us off alone together?”

You look down as you nod.

“My butterflies are alive and well, and happy to wait for you,” Bruce murmurs.

“Butterflies or bats?” you ask.

“Should we be having this conversation in an amusement park?”

“You’re right. Let’s go to Metropolis and make the cover of the Daily Planet so Clark has to write all about it.”

Bruce sighs, but he takes your hand as he leads you outside the amusement park. He presses a button on his utility belt and the Batmobile pulls up a moment later.

“Bruce,” you say once you’re inside. “You were a really cute kid.”

“You were really bad at eye contact,” Bruce counters. “Or was that just with me?”

“I guess crushes aren’t just for kids,” you muse.

“Maybe Diana will stop pestering me to ask you out now.”

You nod as you watch the road before you. It takes a moment, but you finally understand what Bruce just said.

“What?”

[gluion]

the perfect pair ➵ masterlist

esports player!kim sunwoo x esports player!reader

being a woman in the esports league is hard, but dealing with cocky kim sunwoo is unmatched. with the valorant champions tour about to commence, you two are forced to team up to retrieve the trophy. what will be tested—team morale or your patience around sunwoo?

general genre/warnings ➵ enemies to lovers, afab reader (they/them pronouns), slow burn, slight angst, crack, fake relationships (you two pretend to be friends) sexual tension, smut aka porn with plot (just know sunwoo whines), esports team au specifically during valorant champions tour, misogynistic & sexist remarks and behaviors, drinking, pet names, bets are made, a lot of gamer lingo, one bed trope™, also probably wrong format and flow of vct but who gaf!

word count ➵ currently 10.5k words, expected to be 20-40k (sorry i cant help it + vct is pretty long)

playlist ➵ yuck by charli xcx // stop talking by day6 // constant repeat by charli xcx // happier than ever by billie eilish // take a hint by victoria justice & elizabeth gillies // jealous by nick jonas // useless by omar apollo // somebody else by the 1975 // and july by dean fy. heize // talk by beabadoobee // teeth by 5sos // motive by ariana grande ft. doja cat // i wanna be your slave by måneskin // cologne by beabadoobee // a little death by the neighbourhood // the perfect pair by beabadoobee // babydoll by dominic fike // bet u wanna by sabrina carpenter// not in the same way by 5sos // just friends by keshi // sugar by men i trust // disaster by conan grey // shouldn’t couldn’t wouldn’t by niki // it’s you by zayn // die for you by the weeknd ft. ariana grande // flash forward by le sserafim // plot twist by niki

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu @tbzhub @stealanity @wooluv09 @deobi0412 @untilsunset @hiefisch @blue-rainydays @maessseongs @wonuroyal @sunkitti

a/n ➵ i made this masterlist post because i dont think tumblr will be able to handle all the parts i need to pump out :’) my headcanon of sunwoo being a shit gamer will forever live, but i’ll make an exception for this story <3 major shoutout to @shegotthewoobies for guiding me throughout the process <3 lots of love always to my val duo for life! do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

guides

➵ the guide: “welcome to valorant.”

your official guide to “the perfect pair” universe, from gaming lingo all the way to vct timeline

➵ the players: “wáchale güey, my crew is coming through.”

your official guide to the main characters of “the perfect pair” universe

official parts

➵ one: “ew, is that sunwoo over there? 저리 꺼져.”

being a woman in the esports league is hard, but dealing with cocky kim sunwoo is unmatched. with the valorant champions tour about to commence, you two are forced to team up to retrieve the trophy. what will be tested—team morale or your patience around sunwoo?

➵ two: “okay kids, we’ve got company. pretend you all get along.”

➵ three: “sunwoo, we are the perfect pair.”

extras/drabbles

number and names of chapters are subject to change!

[sashaisready]

Lee as your boyfriend

I know he’s not everyone’s cup of tea but I have a real soft spot for Lee Bodecker (Sheriff Daddy) so here’s a little fluffy drabble about dating the big lug. This is Soft!Lee and he’s much cuddlier than canon Lee…

(Some light smutty references - 18+)

~ He’s a traditional man at heart so on your first date he came with flowers and insisted on picking you up, protesting when you told him you could just meet him there. You were happy to go straight to the venue but he was having none of it, shutting down such suggestions borderline aggressively - outraged at the notion of you travelling by yourself when��he’s the one who asked you out, so he’s going to pick you up. You soon acquiesced, there was simply no room for argument. 

~ Later, he drove you home at the end of the night with no expectations but a chaste kiss and a big smile. Not that you should be fooled into thinking he’s a puritan or anything like that…

~ Once you see more of each other and get to know one another better - it’s like a switch has been flicked. He’s all over you - fingers dangerously low on your back, his nose nuzzling your jawline at the movies, his arm tight around your waist as he approaches you from behind…(‘Can’t help myself around you darlin’). He holds you possessively when you’re out in public, a clear indicator to any wandering eyes. His touch is such a constant presence that you find yourself longing for it when he’s not around.

~ He’s brash and straight talking on the job (‘I gotta be, buttercup’) - asserting his authority with no fear of raised voices and ruffled feathers if needs must. But for you, and for you alone, he’s soft. Gentle. A sucker for the pleading in your eyes and the way you look up at him longingly. He’d give you the moon if you asked him sweetly enough. The locals joke that you must be made of strong stuff to date the hardass Sheriff, and you smile knowingly, but the truth belongs only to the both of you.

~ You bicker sometimes. Doesn’t every couple? Nothing big, just the usual squabbles. Chores. Money. Sometimes his brashness gets the better of him. But he hates leaving fights half finished, a flash of panic in his eyes when he thinks you might walk away with this dark cloud still hanging over you both. (‘My mama didn’t leave me much, but she taught me never go to bed mad’). He doesn’t mind if you yell at him, or need some time to walk it off, but he sure as Hell won’t let you sleep without at least one of you saying sorry first. 

~ In bed he’s insatiable. It caught you off guard the first time. Despite the extra heft on his frame his stamina is unmatched. You feel like you’ve run a marathon each time he’s finally through with you. Every inch of your skin thoroughly kissed, every freckle explored and caressed, every sound or gasp wickedly pulled from your lips. He leaves no stone unturned, the intensity of his care for you only matched by his sheer desire for you. He likes it from behind. He likes it laying down. He likes you on top as he lazily rolls his hips and looks up at you through hooded eyes. His gaze burns into you as if he can’t believe you’re here. You’ve never felt so attractive in all your life.

~ He makes self deprecating jokes about his weight and insists he’s giving up candy, playfully prodding his tummy as you lay side by side in bed. You scowl and chastise his criticisms. He’s perfect as he is. He wouldn’t hold you half as well if he were just skin and bones, you tell him. You kiss the softness of his belly and grip the sturdiness of his thighs and make it clear that you love all of him - no matter how much candy he eats. He almost blushes, surprised by your forthright speech, nodding in submission - ‘Well I know better than to tell a lady she’s wrong’ he plays it off, chuckling, too embarrassed to let vulnerability peer out. But underneath his heart tugs and thumps, almost dizzy with the knowledge that you unashamedly desire every part of him. 

~ One evening you walk through town, happily full from a late dinner and lightly buzzed on a couple of glasses of wine, you catch him smiling at you and you smile right back - doing everything you can to try and remember this moment. Keep it in your back pocket for when times are tough, a snapshot of when you felt perfectly happy and at ease with your life and desperately in love with the man you shared it with. Something to retrieve again and again when you need it, a soothing balm never too far away.

~ Little do you know he’s got a diamond ring in his jacket, burning a hole in the fabric as he tries to pick the right moment to ask you the biggest question of his life. He wanted to wait for a special time - but how can he pick just one when all of it is? If only you knew he picked it out just a mere few days after your first date…

[cookstorys]

I saw

Vinnie hacker sooo I would like to request something idk if you do smut or only fluff so just do whatever you’re comfortable with! Anyway can the reader be shy and doesn’t have social media of any kind and ppl see him in a video and try to find out who he is? You can keep going from there

𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢

_____________

Person - Vinnie Hacker

Warning- None 😋

Author Note - I rushed at the end so ☺️

Females Dni

_____________

One hug. That’s all it took for rumors to start to circulate. You weren’t even supposed to be at the party, you just stopped by to see Vinnie. You walked thru that crowd of people to find Vinnie. Once you did a smile appeared on his face when he saw you. “I didn’t know you were coming.” He admitted. Then proceeded to hug you and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. Unknowingly to the both of you, Larray was filming a TikTok and with a simple zoom in you could see you and Vinnie hugging but more importantly, him planting a kiss on your forehead.

____________________

The sun beamed into your newly renovated room. You were starting to be more thankful for your decision to move and stay in L.A. The feeling of tight arms being wrapped around you was another reason you moved. You loved to be loved, The simple feeling of another person that loves you for you was unmatched and Vinnie was just that. He was the hot satisfying candle on oh-so-cold nights.

Before your surroundings could properly focus, your phone buzzed. You let out a lazy sigh and pick the object up.

[Best Friend’s Contact Name]

[Best friend] - OMFG

[Best friend] - IMA NEED YOUR ANTISOCIAL ASS TO LOOK AT THIS!

[Best Friend] - Twitter.com

You froze at the message. Your best friend had a weird sense of humor, to say the least. So, you were rightfully scared of the possibility that this link would either send you to a video of someone getting their ass beat or a very loud porno. To your dismay it was neither of the assumptions, instead, it was a picture of Vinnie planting a kiss on your forehead captioned, “Vinnie hacker spotted romantically kissing a mysterious boy on the forehead last night”

To say you were not happy was an understatement. You quickly sprinted out of bed and ran into your bathroom. This was not good, imagine how your family would react, your siblings. You weren’t in the closet but you also didn’t want to be public with Vinnie just yet. You loved the man to death - you did but you saw yourself as a shy boy from the south, thrown into this bold new world (aka L.A).

You opened your phone to more messages from your best friend to check the comments. ‘Hell no.’ You texted quickly. One thing you hated more than being in the public eye is people’s commentary about you. However, now that the secret’s out it wouldn’t hurt to take a small peak.

You rushed to open the once-closed tab of your messages. You hesitated for a while, finger levitating above the link. After a few more deep breaths your finger fell on the message, after clicking, your phone flashed blue and there appeared the post you had just recently witnessed. You scrolled down to see the comments.

____________________

@user233/ - Omg who is this

@rishardtim - I love this sm

@medontlikeyou - WE MUST FIND THIS MAN

@singleazzbitch - Not them both being fine…

____________________

A knock on the door stopped you from scrolling on. “[Name] are you ok? I saw the post and I’m so sorry. Just open the door let’s talk about this.” Vinnie tried to reason. Your long sigh could be heard thru the door as Vinnie impatiently waited for a response, action, anything. The door slowly opened revealing you and your phone visibly showing the Twitter post. “No, baby don’t listen to them, we can get this covered up or-“ Vinnie’s sentence was cut short by you rushing into his arms. “I’m ok.” You mumbled. With those two words coming out of your mouth Vinnie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

After a while of silence. Just the two of your hugging and listening to each other's heartbeats. Vinnie spoke.“Have you thought about how you wanna handle this?” You sat in silence for a little while longer until you finally thought of an idea

“Let’s see how much they can learn.” You smirked

[melanieph321]

Dominik Szoboszlai x Black Reader - First Sight Part 3/8

The party

The face of distress 😅. What did Y/N say to him?

⚠️Warning ⚠️

18+

This story is about the night reader met her boyfriend Dominik and the series of crazy events that led up to the beginning of their love story.

Enjoy!

"So...do you have a boyfriend?"

You had been walking for a while, through the city, all the way downtown. As you were about to ask Dominik if this was him kidnapping you, those words left his mouth.

"A boyfriend?" You smiled.

"Yes, do you want one?"

"I thought you asked me if I had one?"

"You took too long to answer, which means you don't."

"Wow." You laughed. His arrogance was unmatched.

"Yeah, so we should just stop pretending like we don't want to fuck each other and just do it."

Your steps altered, followed by a sassy finger waving in his face to make things clear. "Trust me Nikki..." He cringed at your new nickname for him. "I have no intentions to fuck you."

He chuckled. "Not now you don't. Later."

You snorted. "In your dreams."

"That was you, wasn't it?"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back on him, walking in the opposite direction.

"Oh come on, Y/N! Don't tell me that you can't take a joke?"

Perhaps it was a joke, but your feet were starting to hurt from all that walking.

"Come on Y/N, I was just...." He ran to catch up with you, grabbing your arm to prevent you from leaving. You jerked it away, an appalled expression on your face.

"Sorry." He said, face faltering.

The evening was quiet, a distant thud heard from one of the brick buildings down the road.

"I should go back." You said, only now thinking about Tara and how you left her in some random apartment with two guys.

"What about the beer?" Dominik said, clearly not wanting the night to end. "My friend, he lives just down the road. I promise we'll be quick."

His offer wasn't as compelling to you as turning back to get Tara, however, that damn spark...

Turns out that the loud thud you heard coming from down the road was actually the base of a speaker, blasting nothing but French trap music.

"Ibrahima!"

"Szobo!"

Dominik did not hesitate to knock on the house hosting a crowded party. Apperently it belonged to his friend that was meant to hook you up with more beer.

"And I see you brought a friend." The guy called Ibrahima said. He had a friendly smile and wanted nothing than for the two of you to join the party.

The vibe was unmatched. People were dancing and drinking, all around enjoying themselves. With a hand to your lower back, Dominik guided you towards the kitchen. There his friend was seen unboxing two bottles of Bacardi and placing them on the kitchen island between you. "Is this enough?" He asked Dominik.

"I said we needed more beer mate, not a blackout."

His friend laughed. "You're here for a good time man, beer won't assist you with that. The ladies know what I'm talking about, no?"

Dominik's friend spun the cap on the bottle and poured you a shot, sliding the glass over to you. You hesitated, but eventually brought it to your lips, emptying it in one go.

"Wow." Dominik looked at you with wide eyes as you didn't even wince.

You shrugged. "I was thirsty."

The rest of this part of the night would later be a blur to you. As Dominik's friend poured the two of you another round of shots, followed by another round. You were only left wity faded memories of hands roaming your body, pulling you in by the waist and pressing your back against someone's hard front. You surrendered yourself to the waves of the music, a playlist including the greatest afrobeat hits. Songs that made your hips roll against whoever was pinning you against them.

"God, you're so sexy."

His voice was at your ear, whispering nothing but erotic nonsense.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good against me. Can't you feel it? Tell me that you feel it."

"I feel it." You whined. Eventually the flashing lights revealed that it was indeed Dominik, who's crotch your ass was grinding against. He turned you over, pinning your back against the nearest wall. He bent down to kiss you and the first taste of him caused hysteria within yourself.

His lips were soft and well moist, perfectly attached to the crease of your neck. But imagine what more they could do and where.

"I wanna fuck you."

"Yes." You nodded. "Please."

You were dragged to the nearest bathroom, not the classiest place to get dick down in, nevertheless, Dominik had you bent over the bathroom sink, lifting your skirt up to expose your pink thong.

He chuckled

"What?" You quickly got insecure, no longer bending over against the sink.

Dominik brows furrowed. "What?"

"You laughed at me. Did I do something wrong?"

"What, no?" He seemed confused. "Of course you didn't, you're perfect." He took you in, cupping your chin and pulling your lips against his.

You were balancing yourself on your tippy toes, struggling to meet his height. Dominik hands went to squeeze your ass, making you gasped against his open mouth. "Dominik?" You were panicking a little, knowing where things were headed.

"Y/N, don't talk so much. Just let me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours."

You felt his erection grow stiff against your thigh, as well as his fingers that hooked around the lace of your panties, searching for the entrance to your...

"Dominik!"

He stopped, not too drunk to hear the panik in your voice. "You okay baby?"

You were flushed from all the kissing, your lips tender and plumb. "You should know." You said, struggling to catch your breath.

"Know what?" He removed a curl that was irritating your eyes.

"You should know that I've never..."

"Yes?"

"I've never...."

His lips curled into a smile. "You've never what Y/N, had sex? You can tell me, I won't judge."

You gather your courage and swallowed. "I've never been with a man before, only women."

Dead silence followed.

Dominik didn't judge you, but he sure enough wasn't smiling anymore.

[gxthicwxrm]

maybe, if you do a part 5, I could see aegon and aemond PRAISING their pregnant wife like crazy.

Say It (Part 5) - The Heir

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader.

Word Count: 2,867

Warning: pregnancy, birth, blood

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Six

Authors Note: I'm so sorry this took so long to come out. I've been so busy with work and holidays! But I am back with a new chapter! I hope you all love it!

---

"I don’t care if it’s a boy. I hope you know I expect no duty regarding our children.” Aegon’s voice breaks through the silence, lifting his head from your lap with truthful eyes. His sudden admission shocks you. You have never discussed his succession, too focused on keeping our heads and the throne than on the future. His hands rub your smooth, swollen belly before kissing your bump. Smiling at you, he winks, and butterflies erupt in your stomach as heat fills your face at his affection.

“Nor do I, my love.” Aemond mumbles behind you with his chest pressed against his back while he leads against the headboard. The younger brother snuggles into your neck, closing his eyes as he takes in your scent. 

“I am glad because I’ve had dreams of a baby girl the last two moons." You confess, not understanding the weight of dreams for House Targaryen. "I was worried since we never talked about the gender of the baby.” Your mentioning of dreams sends Aegon flying from your lap, cupping your face while Aemond shifts, with you now sitting, facing them both.

“Dreams? What dreams? Tell me, sweetheart.” Aegon’s frantic words come out calm as his wide eyes look over you. Behind Aegon’s shoulder, Aemond silently nods, wishing to hear the answer his brother asked.

“Please,” Aegon begs, making you giggle at his sudden desperation. Nodding, you explain your dreams to them.

“It’s always in flashes, never a whole thing. It's just flashes of red, green, and black. Most of it is just a blur of colors. But some images are more clear.”  You admit both of the boys’ eyes widen as their imagination begins to go wild. Red. Green. Black. The two men share a worried look before turning back to you. 

“Go on.” Aemond encourages with a gentle smile. Your hand finds Aegon’s cheek while your other reaches for Aemond’s hand, who grabs yours with a smile. 

“Images of your mother running to me as I scream out. Blinding pain, then a loud, powerful cry. She is beautiful. Her eyes are as blue as your sapphire, her hair bright like the snow of the North. I don’t know how but she has a fire never seen before, unmatched by any dragon before her. I swear it to the Gods.” Finishing your description, you realize both of your husbands have tears in their eyes as they stare at you, jaws ajar. Aemond is the first to break from their trance. He shifts closer to you, leaning his forehead against your bump, kissing the spot above your belly button. 

“My fierce girl.” He whispers to your abdomen, eyes closed as he imagines a little blonde girl running around with a makeshift stick-turned-sword, training with him. Reading to his little girl and teaching her how to control her dragon. Warm spreads through his chest as a tear slides down his cheek. Pulling away, he looks at Aegon and knows his older brother is thinking the same thoughts as Aegon’s eyes are bloodshot and wet.

“She will be the most loved and protected little girl in all the Seven Kingdoms. I will have the head of anyone who dares speak ill of her, my wife.” Aegon declares. Being the more emotional one, his feelings speak in extremes that you know are true. Your heart fills with pride as you look at these two men devoted to you and the baby in your womb. 

“I love you more than any star in the night sky.” You stare at them in total admiration.

Suddenly, the door to your shared chambers swings open, revealing Cole. A growl leaves Aegon's throat as he throws his sheet over your bare body. 

"What?" Aemond glares daggers into the man in the doorway. Cole shifts his feet uncomfortably beneath Aemond's cold gaze.

"The Hand has requested both of you in the Council room. It is of the utmost importance." Cole looks strong, but his voice quivers slightly. Aemond moves from behind you, keeping the sheet to your chest before pulling his pants on, followed by his shirt, while Aegon isn't convinced he is needed, so he chooses to stay by your side in the bed.

"Tell him it can wait until tomorrow. I do not wish to rule today." Aegon dismisses the knight, burying his face back into your stomach, thumb ghosting over the spot your daughter had her foot pushing against your stomach, making her shift closer to her father's voice.

"It is about Dragonstone." Sir Cole's words make Aegon still before pulling himself off the bed, pecking your cheek before putting his clothes on. 

"Fuck" Aegon mutters to himself while tying his tunic, turning to you with worried eyes.

"I'm sorry, my love. We both wish we could stay in this room with you forever. But we will be back shortly," Aegon pecks you once more. Aemond kisses your lips with a soft smile before he and Aegon follow Cole, who stalks down the hall. 

Loneliness creeps in as the room goes silent, only the thought of your dream to keep you company. Rubbing your stomach, you drop your sheet and move to your wardrobe, pulling on your slip before sifting through the fabric. Quickly, your eye in a gorgeous emerald silk gown with blue lace embroidery that Alicent had gifted you at Aemond's and your wedding. Refusing to call the maids, you decide to walk.  Slowly, you fix your feet into the dress, grab the shoulders of the fabric, and pull the gown up your body. Everything goes smoothly as the shift stops halfway over your bell when you attempt to put your arms through the holes. Sharp pain in your abdomen shocks you causing you to drop the fabric with your hands flying to your stomach. 

After a few moments, the pain subsides as you resume putting your arms in the dress. With a triumphed humph, you congratulate yourself for being able to dress without help at nine moons pregnant. However successful, you were exhausted when you finished adjusting your dress. Using the nearest places to steady yourself, you walk toward Aemond's favorite reading chair by your fireplace. 

Leaning against the firm cushion, you think about what could've happened on Dragonstone. Fear fills your chest when you think of the awful plan Rhaenyra could have stored for your husbands and children. You'd like to hope that Rhaenyra, as a mother, would spare your children, but you know Daemon would not. 

Another stabbing pain fills your stomach, no longer in one place. Involuntarily, a scream leaves your throat as you clutch your stomach in pain before it dulls enough for you to think. 

"Something is wrong." Your cry falls upon only your ears as you try to get up from the chair, moving towards the door as you lean on the wall. Finally, you make it to the door and fling it open before spilling out of it, catching yourself on the cold corridor walls. The pain stalls enough for you to limp your way to the end of the hallway before another crash of agony hits you, flinging you to the ground as you feel hot liquid snake down your leg. 

"The baby is coming." You wail as you frantically reach for the wetness growing beneath you. Your heart freezes when your hand returns red, fingers soaking with your blood.

"No." You whisper before two soft hands grab your shoulders. Looking up through watery eyes, you make out the infamous emerald green dress of Alicent Hightower.

"My love?" Alicent questions, confused eyes finding yours before her owe drifts to your bloodied fingers.

Her worried eyes immediately fill with tears before her saddened expression hardens. 

"Someone get the masters! What are you all gawking for? Move!" Her tone demands attention and urgency, causing the poor servants of the Keep to scurry off.  Turning to face you, Alicent's features are less harsh but scared nonetheless.

"Now, we need to get you back to bed. Maybe laying down might settle the babe. I'm sure you both are anxious to meet. Where are my sons?"  Alicent helps you to your feet, screaming at the maids while she guides you down the hallway you previously came from. Slowly, with tears down your reddened face, you try to walk beside Alicent but fail when your legs buckle underneath you as the stabbing pain returns. 

"Fuck." You scream as liquid gushes around your legs. Looking to Alicent, who kneels beside you, every ounce of bravery leaves you.

"I am scared." You whisper as the contraction begins to lessen its wrath. "  I don't think I can do this." Looking down at your swollen belly, you already felt like you failed the baby in your womb. 

"We never do, my Queen." She brushes the hair stuck to your face away before grabbing a black handkerchief from a maid with red hair and draping your head with a cool towel. 

"But, you are strong. You are strong, fierce like the dragon resting in your womb. You are a mother,  my dear. A mother of a dragon, so be one."  Another wave of pain washes over you, accompanied by immense pressure building. You knew you needed to push; your body was screaming for you to push. 

But you couldn't do this without your husbands, but you had no choice as the pressure became too much. Alicent guides you to get on your hands and knees, with a cool hand rubbing down your back. The older woman breathed with you through each contraction. The maester rushing into the chambers along with three of your closest maidens. 

"You may go now, milady." The older man nods to Alicent, who shoots him a cold glare, effectively silencing the man.

"I will not leave her side." She finishes, making the maester speechless. Her words fill you with warmth as you reach for her hand, which she quickly takes with a soft smile. The servant girls go to stand beside the maester who examines for any dangers.

"Everything looks normal, my Queen. But, your grace, you have to start pushing. I can see the babe. It's starting to come now." His words trigger blinding pain to fire back, immediately causing you to push as hard as possible. Screaming, your vocal cords vibrate in your throat as the pressure pulls through your core. A loud screech shakes through the Keep as tears fall down your face.

"You're almost there. You are doing so well. It's okay. Just breathe." Alicent coos as your grip tighten on her hand. Unflinching, the former Queen takes the pain and replaces it with a firm squeeze. 

Finally, the pressure releases as a wave of liquid that gushes out of you, followed by a loud, piercing cry. Relief looks through you as you hear your child cry. However, exhaustion settles into your bones as you drop from your position, leaning onto the wall. Behind you, the maester quickly assesses your baby before turning to you with a welcoming smile.

"Your Grace." He looks at you with a raised brow, a bundle of blankets in his hands. Silently, you extend your arms. Moving to you, he places the pile of fabric in your arms when two bright blue eyes stare at you. 

It's as if your world stopped at that moment. 

In your arms, your beautiful baby girl reaches up to you, and you reach back, holding her little hand in your own.

"Hello, my fierce girl. You're a fighter just like your daddies, aren't you?" You coo, your thumb rubbing her soft cheek before your heart breaks at the thought of her father. Looking up, your eyes find Alicent and Cole's, who look guilty as if they knew what you would ask.

"Where are my husbands?"

---

"We can't leave this land open. They will see that and ambush us. Daemon is smart; we can't underestimate him." Aemond explains, looking between Otto and Aegon. Aegon nods, agreeing with his brother, making Otto scoff.

"Daemon is an emotional child. He will do whatever destructive plan falls first into his thoughts." Otto dismisses the men before him, turning to sit at the Council table. 

"He's been at Harrenhal for six sunrises. People have seen Caraxes flying there. He's planning something, and he's willing to wait whatever it is out-" Suddenly, the Council door flies open, revealing a horrified maid.

"What is the meaning of this? That door remained to be shut and locked! No one to enter, especially without knoc-" Otto smacks the table, glaring at the girl.

"It's Y/N, your Grace. " That was all she needed to say for the King and the Prince to begin to follow her. However, Otto moves in front Of them, blocking the door.

" No one will leave this room until this matter is settled." Otto spats at grandsons. Silently, Aegon closes the distance between himself and the old man.

"And who is going to stop us?" Aegon's tone is murderous, alarming both his brother and grandfather. The two men eye each other before Otto quietly moves out of their way. Rushing down the halls, they heard Vhagar's roar pierce through the castle, vibrating the walls. She sounded as if she was in pain. Fear filled Aegon and Aemond as they rushed through the halls toward your shared wing of the Castle.

Coming to your hallway, blood pools in the entryway, smearing halfway down the hall. The sight causes both men to stop, looking at each other before they run down your hall before practically spilling into your room and falling to the floor.

"Oh my." Alicent giggles from your side as you lay on the bed, leaning against your headboard, rocking your sleeping daughter in your arms.

"Are you okay? What has happened-" Aemond stops himself when he sees a bundle of cloth in your arms and tiredness on your face. "Did y-" His eye trained on the white-haired child sleeping in your arms; he dropped to his knees in front of you.

"There's someone who wants to meet the both of you." A sob cracks through Aegon's lips as he moves towards your side. Alicent moves, silently leaving the room to allow you three peace with your new baby.

Your husbands take place on each side of you. Your daughter sleeps peacefully in your arms, swaddled in a pale green blanket. 

"She's perfect." Aegon whispers. "Hi. I'm your father. Hi." He smooths down her blonde hair before placing a delicate kiss on her head. 

"Yes, she is. She's fierce too. Fought like hell. A tough youngling." Your answer. "Just like her fathers before her." 

Smiling, Aemond wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. Instantly, Aegon leans on your side, laying his head on your shoulder as the three of you watch the sleeping miracle you made.

"Thank you." Aemond's voice breaks through the contentment, his eye never leaving the baby. With a soft smile, you press your lips to his cheek, lingering slightly before pulling away. 

"For?" You question, Tilting your head as you examine your husband's face for an explanation. Chuckling, Aemond finally turns to face you.

"For this. For you, for her, for us. Even for Aegon. None of us would be here if it weren't for you, my beautiful wife. So, I thank you for making me the happiest person in Westeros." Aemond was not one to share his emotions so openly with anyone, especially in front of his brother, but he pushed through to pour his heart before your feet.

Leaning in, you connect your lips to his, and his hand moves to cup your face before your lips pull away, foreheads still touching. Silently, you close your eyes and absorb him. 

"If I may? I feel the same, baby. I could never repay the happiness you have given me today, the happiness both of you have given me." He pauses, taking a deep breath before starting again. "She's everything I imagined." Aegon's rushed whispers, laced with so much love and care, fill your heart with joy. 

"I love you both so much. I'd be lost without you. I should be thanking you for giving me your love and time. For giving me this gorgeous girl. For it all." Tears fall down your cheek as Aegon wipes them away, kissing your cheek before laying his head in the crook of your neck.

"I love you!" Aegon whispers, holding your sleeping daughter's hand around his index finger. Aemond's hand supports her feet as she lays in the corner of your elbow, rocking her slightly. 

---

"I love you." Aemond leans his head against yours while your eyes slowly begin to fall closed. Leaning back into your husband's, the three of you find yourself falling fast asleep with your daughter safely in your arms.

Part six coming soon !!

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

>title ☆ The Gift ☆part 9/?

>summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

>pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [1.3k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ none> series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7☆ part 8 ☆ part 9 ☆ part 10

>posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

The chance comes much sooner than you think. 

Two days later, you come awake, slowly, to flashes of green. Annoyed— it’s much too early-- you pull the covers over your head but then a howling alarm starts. 

That does it. You sit up, suddenly and unwillingly wide awake. Out the viewport, the Chimaera’s turbolaser batteries unleash a bright salvo of green against a swarm of starfighters. 

The chrono on the nightstand marks 04:12. 

One of the fighters peels off, making a run straight for the Chimaera’s superstructure-- you freeze, transfixed-- it looks like it’s coming right at you, like it’s going to suicide into the bridge just a few levels above-- but a bolt catches it and it disintegrates in a fireball, leaving metal shards drifting in the void and fizzling blue-silver against the shields.. 

You take a shaky breath, and force yourself to move. You dress quickly, panicked, your eyes still bleary. Your only thought is to find Thrawn. 

He’s in his office, shrugging on his tunic as he gives clipped orders into his comm link. “— yes, Commodore, and aim to disable and capture one, if possible. I’m on my way now.” 

“What’s going on?” You ask. He’s already striding toward the hatch, pressing down the sealing strip of his tunic. “Are we— is the ship under attack?”

He picks up his service belt from where it’s draped over the back of the armchair, buckles it on. He glances out the viewport, in answer to your question. Obviously. “Remain here. I do not expect this to take long.” 

More flashes of turbolaser fire, and more fighters breaking off to attempt to strafe the Chimaera’s weak points-- the shield generators, probably. 

“But I--” He turns away, but you reach out and grab his arm. He looks at you, then at your hand, then back at you. You yank your hand away, gripping it to your chest. “Sorry. But I can’t--” The idea of being shut in here alone makes your stomach turn. 

Suddenly there’s a blast-- you flinch-- and another one, heavier, powerful enough to make everything in the room shake and the lights flicker. “Please, I don’t want to stay here.” 

He takes in your wide eyes, your trembling hands that you’re trying to hold steady. He nods, his expression and tone severe. “Come, then. And do not fall behind.”

His personal squad of death troopers fall in step once you reach the main passageway. You follow closely, as that’s the only way to assure you aren’t getting in anyone’s way. Crew members hurry past in both directions, though they all step aside for the Grand Admiral. 

On the bridge, the crew are already working to repel the attack, calling out sensor readings and positions. Thrawn’s arrival seems to ease the tension, just a bit, to reassure everyone that the situation is well in hand. 

You’re grateful he agreed to your request. His calm in the face of chaos is unfaltering, and you feel safe just watching him as he strides down the command walkway, posture impeccably straight. 

“Report, Commodore.”

Faro’s bearing is unmatched, even as her eyes flick to you, who shouldn’t be here. “Twenty TIEs scrambled so far, sir. We mark--” she looks down to someone in the crew pits to confirm. 

“Two hundred and forty-three.”

“--now two hundred and forty-three hostile ships of unknown origin.”

“And the fighter screen?” 

“They were out of position when we were ambushed, sir. I apologize--”

Thrawn holds up his hand. “It is irrelevant now. Have them hold position. Do not launch any more fighters until my signal.” 

As usual, you stay back, well out of the way, and once Ronan arrives on the bridge, he comes to stand near you.

“Your first taste of space combat, I take it?” He says lightly, as if trying to sound unbothered. But he keeps shifting on his feet and fiddling with the hem of his cape.

“Yes,” you lie. Because it’s easier not to have to explain. 

“Well, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Just then, an out of control fighter spirals across the Chimaera’s starboard side, and just before it impacts, a pair of TIEs sweep in, blowing it to pieces. 

You’re close enough to the airwing control station to hear their comms chatter-- “splash one!” “we got him” “coming around--” “another one on your tail”

You let out a nervous laugh. Slip the data stick out of its hidden pocket and clench it tightly in your fist. You’ll have no better opportunity than this. 

“Contact!” Hammerly calls. “Unidentified cruiser just jumped in, sir, bearing five degrees mark delta.”

Thrawn goes over to look at the display, then motions for Senior Lieutenant Lomar. “Hail that cruiser. Open frequency.”

You have a second to marvel at how efficient and responsive his crew is-- Lomar had been anticipating his commander, and nods almost immediately to Thrawn that it’s ready.

“Attention, unknown cruiser. This is Grand Admiral Thrawn. By the authority of the Galactic Imperial Navy, I order you to stand down, and identify yourself.”

Static crackles over the connection. For a moment, everyone on the bridge holds their breath-- would there be an answer? Across the entire viewport, the battle still rages, though it’s already turning in Thrawn’s favor. 

Then, -- a voice. Gruff, almost metallic through the communications link. “I’ve heard of you.”

With everyone’s attention on the mysterious captain, you sidle closer to Ronan, and as casually as possible, brush his hand. He makes no reaction, just smoothly and quickly slides the datastick from your palm into his, and then it disappears into his pocket. 

“All the others who’ve come through here were easy prey.”

Thrawn is steady, emotionless. “You’ve attacked other Imperial ships?”

The voice laughs. Thrawn silently gestures to Commodore Faro, who seems to know what he wants. With the signal given, Lieutenant Agral begins to maneuver the Chimaera. Its bow angles down. Its hangar bay now faces away from the plane of battle and though its topside is now more exposed, the support ships serving as the fighter screen have had time to move into position. 

“I say again,” Thrawn says, his tone still polite. “Transmit identification.”  

“I’m afraid we won’t be doing that today, Grand Admiral.”

At that moment, the Chimaera’s remaining TIEs-- nearly the full complement-- stream around out of the ISD’s shadow, closing fast to range the cruiser. It looks like they’re going to catch it, that Thrawn’s plan is going to work, to intercept, capture, and identify the mysterious attackers. But just as they start to open fire, the cruiser jumps away. 

Silence falls over the bridge. Everyone looks to the Grand Admiral.

Thrawn gives a slight bounce on the balls of his feet. Even from here, you can see, he’s displeased, though his single ISD and just two support ships had defended against over two hundred, and come away with minimal casualties and damage. But from what you gather, this outcome is far from his usual victories. Still, the crew seem relieved, and in good spirits. For some of the more junior members, this was their first combat experience. Emotions run high. Thrawn orders meritorious citations for the two TIE pilots who had blown up the enemy fighter before it could crash into the star destroyer. 

This is what those bios had alluded to. Thrawn had pulled off an unlikely victory under pressure, and in the aftermath, he gives all credit to his crew. In some ways, he is a very difficult person to dislike. Though, Ronan doesn’t seem to have that problem. Now that the danger is over, he stomps over in a huff to demand answers about something or other, and to question Thrawn’s tactics. 

For your part, you must wait. The data stick with your question safely passed to Ronan. There is little else you can do, except wait, and grow more dismayed each day he doesn’t slip it back to you, or indeed, acknowledge your existence at all. 

☆join tag list☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added or removed.

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☆ Link to Part 10 ☆

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Thank you for this question @wen-kexing-apologist.

What scene in BL has made you the happiest?

I'm a pretty happy girl while watching bl in general. I talk to the people on the screen, I clap and cheer and all that. If I'm supremely happy then I'll probably let out a scream and scare my cat. So I think the show recently where she suffered the most with my happy screams was definitely Tsukutabe. I hope you don't mind if I answer with a GL. The amount of times I just wanted to jump up and down with glee was unmatched, I believe. And I think nothing made me as happy as watching Kasuga talk to her father. This moment, I was just cheering like a crazy person.

It was fantastic. She is just so quiet for most of the time, but she's always listening, observing the people around her and processing. And after the talk with her soon to be divorced friend (I'm sorry, her name escapes me), where she confided in her and got the acceptance that she, maybe subconsciously, craved and words that she needed to her, she was finally able to do that. To have that conversation, to be firm and honest with him and be somewhat at peace with that part of her life. It was excellent. I LOVE HER. There are so many other moments from this show that I could honestly use to answer this question.

Now comes the anger.

So that really depends. I get angry at characters and at a show in general. I get angry at shows a lot for making stupid decisions. All my posts during Absolute Zero are a testament to that. And more recently I had a bad reaction to episode 11 of Unknown so I guess I'll talk about that.

See, I'm not really into sex scenes in general. Because more often than not they are just there. They don't add much to the overall story except to say that it happened. But when the show is good I expect them to match it. And Unknown is a really good show. It's great. So to say I was disappointed would be a massive understatement. I've spoken about this with @lurkingshan in the comments and the scene just didn't match up with the quality of the rest of the show. And this is obviously my opinion and how I see this show. There are a couple of reasons for my anger.

The first is Qian. Qian had just spent a lot of time considering Yuan's feelings and his own, the change in the relationship dynamic and he had to tackle his own fears around being vulnerable to another person and allowing himself to surrender to his desires. Because he has so little sense of self worth beyond being a carer for people around him, if Yuan didn't keep pushing, in his own way without actually forcing anything, I don't think Qian would consider crossing that line. But once he did, I think they needed a slower scene, where we could see him really embracing the moment and surrendering. Let's not forget this happened on the same night he said it wasn't sure he could make the change from brothers to lovers. That it wasn't sure what his feelings for Yuan were. So I just don't like that choice.

The second reason was the editing. And maybe this is a me thing. But even if I were to think that their first time would happen exactly that way, that scene was a mess. Sex scenes are usually not great in bl. Because the pretty takes the place of the good. So it's a lot of pretty lighting and bokeh effects. Which I have no problem with by itself. But the quick cuts drive me crazy. It's the same reason I never connected with the pretty sex scene in The Sign. If I'm gonna connect to the characters during a sex scene I should be able to linger a bit, to take in the atmosphere and physicality of the actors during it, so that it resonates emotionally. And it has to flow naturally as well for that to happen. So just cutting it randomly with different body parts, kissing and flashing facial expressions here and there just doesn't do it for me. And that's what happens in some of them including this one. And the SOUND. It drove me crazy. If you wanna use breath sounds during a scene like this, then do it well. I've seen both versions of the scene so I'm gonna focus on the reedited one cause the other one makes me doubly angry for other reasons. They change between normal speed and slow motion in the scene. And the sound doesn't really change between them so of course it didn't match, but the worst is the fact that it also didn't match anything. The sound was not from that scene. Probably because it was edited so much so the sound that they used was different, but it kept taking me out of the scene on top of what all the other reasons.

That was a longer answer than I was expecting. So I'll stop now. I hope most of that is coherent enough. I rambled a bit. Anyway thank you so much for this question.

Have a good day💜

[captain-mj]

London Fog

And this is the end! It's been fun guys!

also, my apologies about the poll, when I was writing this, one of the options was winning and I only found out later it lost :( sorry

Link to the full thing

Ghost sat on the roof of the courthouse, smoking quietly. He had the gun aimed right at Wayne’s head in case anything happened. 

Jason had easily accepted their request to agree with the police that it was a misunderstanding. Thanks to Wayne’s military status, things were quickly swept under the rug in an act that could only remind him of why he hated police as a kid. It had been tied up with a pretty little bow. No charges put down. No care about the person hurt. Luckily Jason made an extremely quick recovery. If it was because Ghost pulled a few strings with some magic people he knew, that was no one’s business. 

The fact only made Ghost more bitter than he already was. So he had the gun pointed right at Wayne. He was sitting in a coffeeshop, waiting for Soap to arrive. Wayne should be kneeling on the ground. Ready to beg and plead once met with the presence of Soap. 

What a goddamn fool. Reckless asshole. However, that was to be expected by someone who acted like him. Who’d mistreat Johnny so callously. 

It would be the last mistake he ever made. 

Soap arrived, looking flushed and so alive. Everything about him was brighter. He had purposely picked something typical of what he’d normally wear, but it was definitely different. The clothing seemed to tug differently. His beauty unmatched. Right before he went in, he gave Ghost a small smile, directed right at him. Sun incarnate. The very sea itself wrapped up in human skin. Volatile and loving and loved and ready to crush you once you went too deep. 

Johnny was very different from Soap. Still the same in all the ways that mattered, but he was just so damn good. He dragged Ghost back into bed each morning and now that he was able, he drew all the time. Ghost had never, ever liked his face but seeing it drawn with pencil and pressed onto shitty notebook paper? Maybe he could stomach it. He also worked better than whiskey. Soap had the ability to knock him out and let him sleep through the night. Either through sex or by cuddling. Something about his touch just felt right. He was perfect. 

Ghost watched them talk. Wayne was harsh. Something about his edges. Wrong. Cruel. He was talking to Soap like Captain ordering Sergeants. It set his teeth on edge. But Soap wanted to do this, so he stayed here. Watching. 

Soap looked soft. Sweet. A picture of the same mockery of a person that he was before. Ghost imagined slowly slitting Wayne’s throat for Soap. Having him watch. Tell him to slow down. To make it last. Blood starts to fill his mouth and he realized in his excitement that he bit his own tongue. 

It felt nice. The liquid getting between his teeth. Would Soap be worried if he knew? Make him wash his mouth out and tell him to be more careful? Would he tell him to sink his teeth in deeper?

Soap nodded along to what Wayne was saying. He smiled and flashed his teeth and did all the things he’s supposed to do. He’d make a lovely siren with how easily he pulled Wayne into his thrall. 

The drink he had stayed untouched on the table. It was clearly a hot drink, which Ghost found weird because Soap preferred cold. 

Wayne stood up and left, Soap trailing after him, cup in hand. Once they stepped out of the coffeeshop, Ghost stood up and made chase. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, gun in hand, keeping them in sight every moment. 

Wayne’s voice floated up. Harsh syllables in a harsh voice. Picking Soap apart. 

“Why didn’t you tell me a man was going to be in our home?”

“I didn’t think about it. He was just supposed to run in and grab something.”

“He had your coat.”

“He knew I was a selkie. I apologize, darling, I didn’t know what he planned to do.”

Wayne whipped around, grabbing Soap easily. It rattled Ghost. How the man just… touched Soap. Did his skin not burn from doing so? 

Soap stared at him. Doe eyed. 

Wayne saw something in those depths. He let go of him. “Your coat. Who has it? Where is it?”

“Not here. I Have it.”

“I see.”

“I want to give it back to my husband.” 

Husband. The word made something in Ghost’s soul preen. He had figured out, without Soap explaining it to him, that thanks to the back and forth of the coat, they were married in Selkie eyes. 

And once Wayne was gone, Ghost would be his only husband. The only person that mattered. He grinned and readied his gun again. Letting the familiar weight guide him. One small movement and Wayne’s head splatters on the ground. 

Soap started to lead him to an alleyway. “Please. My darling. You want me back, right?”

Wayne followed. Moth to fire. A rat chewing through flesh to get to the prize. “Of course I do. You’re mine.” 

Ghost could hear their voices. The angle was getting difficult for sniping so instead he stayed poised with a knife. 

Soap smiled at him brightly. His teeth�� Were they always that sharp?

They were bloodstained moments later. Ghost was only supposed to help him if he started losing, so he wouldn’t be helping. 

Military training and raw strength did nothing to help him. Soap sank his teeth deep in his throat to damage his vocal cords and grabbed him by his shoulders. He shoved him to the ground and started punching. It was less animalistic than Ghost was expecting but no less feral. No less enthralling to watch. 

Ghost jumped down, not making a sound as he hit the pavement. He stalked around them, enjoying the sight of blood mixing with crisp morning air. 

The cup sat on the fire escape of the nearby building. How Soap managed to do that with neither himself nor Wayne noticing was beyond him. Out of curiosity, Ghost grabbed it and smelled it. 

Earl grey. Soap probably got it for him. He hated the stuff. It made his insides feel warm and fuzzy as he lifted his mask to drink it before turning back. 

Punching him must’ve not been enough after a minute, because Soap had gotten to strangling him. Blood still poured from the wound in his throat. He’d be dead in minutes anyway. But it gave Soap some satisfaction, watching the life drain from his eyes. 

He kept choking him long after he was dead. Needed to make sure. 

Ghost wrapped his arms around him and grabbed his hands. He slowly helped him uncurl his stiff fingers from the pulsing, bloody mass of his throat. “It’s done, love.”

“Mo chridhe.” Soap leaned into him, letting Ghost pull him up. “This won’t be suspicious right?”

“I’ll handle it. Nothing is ever going to happen to you.”

Soap nodded and tilted his head, kissing along Ghost’s throat. He was an image like this. Covered in blood. There was something in his eyes. Something new. 

“Simon.”

“You’re using my first name. Must be serious.”

“I want to join the military.”

~~~~

Six months. Soap did it in six months. 

Ghost tried to pull strings, speed it along, but Soap refused his help, wanting to do it on his own. 

When he was finally a big enough name though, he allowed Ghost to make sure he got on the 141 instead of a random unit.

So Price handed him the papers and Soap happily signed them. He had bulked up. Still short and not quite as big as Ghost, but definitely bigger. The tattoo on his arm was new, but Ghost had been there when he got it. He also knew that if he went further up his arm to where his collarbone was, there would be dozens of little hickeys and bites from Ghost. 

One new thing was also a scar on his chin. It was small but there. Ghost questioned if it was good idea to do this. He’d never raise those concerns to Soap though, not wanting to control his actions. Even if maybe jumping into the military was a bit… of a… choice. Yeah. It was definitely a choice.

As long as Soap was happy. And Soap did seem very very happy.

“I did it!” He grinned up at Ghost. “Now we can go on missions together and eat breakfast and sit with each other while doing paperwork and…” Soap stopped to catch his breath and Ghost kissed him. Nice and easy. 

“Yeah. Anything you want.” Ghost wrapped his wings tight around Soap who melted into him. 

“Love you, Simon.”

“Love you, Johnny.”

Taglist:

@the-snarky-dragon @elevencloudsofnine-blog @lukewarm-chickensoup @nervouspsychologynerd @korym @cthulhusstepmom @princess-heathen @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon @roachboy @shadowsnowberry @crazies-unanimous @shiftylookingcrow @joltom @xenomorphee3 @thedeepvoidinmyheart

[warnermeadowsgirl]

The Warrior's Heart

A. Bahubali × Fem!OC

Amarendra Baahubali was patrolling the forest border of the neighboring kingdom of Varanasi, alert and vigilant as ever. The dense forest was a challenge, but he thrived in such environments. With the imminent threat of conflict, he knew he had to be cautious. As he ventured deeper, he heard a rustling in the bushes ahead. Drawing his sword, he advanced, ready for any confrontation.

From the shadows emerged Shambhavi, the warrior princess of Varanasi. Clad in a peacock blue lehenga choli, her presence was both commanding and enchanting. She, too, had been patrolling her kingdom's borders, ensuring its safety from potential threats. Mistaking each other for enemies, they locked eyes with intense determination.

"Who are you?" Shambhavi demanded, her voice steady, yet fierce.

"I am Amarendra Baahubali of Mahishmati. Identify yourself!" he retorted, his grip tightening on his sword.

"Shambhavi, princess of Varanasi," she replied, her own sword raised, ready for combat.

Without another word, they engaged in a fierce sword fight. Their skills were unmatched, each parrying the other's attacks with precision. The forest echoed with the clash of steel. Amidst the intense combat, Amarendra's sword accidentally sliced through the six doris holding Shambhavi's backless blouse. Her back was suddenly exposed, causing her to gasp in shock.

Realizing his mistake, Amarendra immediately ceased his attack. "I am deeply sorry, Princess Shambhavi. It was not my intention," he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. He swiftly removed his shawl and offered it to her, turning his gaze away to give her privacy.

Shambhavi, though initially furious, saw the sincerity in his eyes. She took the shawl and wrapped it around herself. "Thank you," she said softly, her anger dissipating.

In that moment, a bond formed between them, born out of respect and an unexpected act of chivalry. As they parted ways, Shambhavi found herself thinking about the noble warrior who had shown her such kindness. Similarly, Amarendra couldn't shake the image of the fierce yet graceful princess from his mind.

Months passed, and their paths crossed again during various diplomatic missions and events. Their interactions, though brief, were always filled with mutual admiration and unspoken affection.

Back in Mahishmati, Rajmata Sivagami noticed the change in Amarendra. His thoughts seemed preoccupied, his heart seemingly lost to someone. Determined to see her son happy, she decided to investigate. Learning about Shambhavi, Sivagami decided to visit the kingdom of Varanasi.

In Varanasi, Rajmata Sivagami was received with great honor. She presented a portrait of Amarendra to Shambhavi and proposed a marriage alliance. Shambhavi's heart raced as she gazed at the painting. The memories of their encounters flashed before her eyes, and she realized her feelings for Amarendra had deepened into love.

"I accept," Shambhavi said, her voice steady and confident. The prospect of marrying Amarendra filled her with joy.

Meanwhile, in the kingdom of Kuntala, Devasena, another warrior princess, had also fallen for Amarendra during his visit. She sent a marriage proposal through her brother, the king. When the proposal reached Amarendra, he knew his heart belonged to Shambhavi.

"I am honored by Princess Devasena's proposal," Amarendra said respectfully, "but my heart has chosen someone else."

Devasena, though disappointed, respected his decision. She knew Amarendra's honor and loyalty were unmatched, and she admired him even more for his honesty.

The preparations for Amarendra and Shambhavi's wedding began in earnest. The two kingdoms, Mahishmati and Varanasi, were abuzz with excitement. The grand wedding was to be a union of two powerful and noble houses.

On the day of the wedding, the palace was adorned with flowers and festoons. Amarendra stood at the altar, his eyes scanning the crowd, waiting for his bride. Shambhavi, dressed in a resplendent bridal attire, walked towards him, her heart pounding with happiness.

As they stood before the sacred fire, they exchanged vows, their eyes reflecting the love and respect they had for each other. The priests chanted blessings, and the air was filled with the sound of music and celebration.

"I promise to stand by you, to support you, and to love you with all my heart," Amarendra said, his voice steady and filled with emotion.

"And I promise to be your strength, your partner, and your equal in all things," Shambhavi replied, her eyes glistening with tears of joy.

The ceremony concluded with the couple taking their seven sacred vows, symbolizing their eternal bond. The kingdoms rejoiced, celebrating the union of their beloved prince and princess.

As they walked hand in hand, Amarendra whispered to Shambhavi, "From the moment we met in that forest, I knew you were someone special. I am grateful to have you by my side."

Shambhavi smiled, her heart swelling with love. "And I am grateful to have found a noble and kind soul like you, Amarendra."

Their journey together had only just begun, but they knew that with love, respect, and understanding, they could overcome any challenge. Their union was not just the merging of two kingdoms, but the beginning of a new era of peace and prosperity.

And so, Amarendra Baahubali and Shambhavi, the warrior princess of Varanasi, embarked on their new life together, bound by love, honor, and the promise of a glorious future.

____________________________________________________________________________

A/N: A little birthday special from me to u guys;)

@mayakimayahai @mahi-wayy @ranisingsnew @ulaganayagi @maraudersbitchesassemble @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @vijayasena @gloriouspurpose01

Enjoy;) Let me know if you wanna be tagged.......

[yandere-genji]

Heyo! Could you do some headcannons for Ashe and Cassidy realizing they're after the same darling? Bonus points if the darling is highly skittish or elusive.

Ashe and Cassidy have a complicated relationship, to say the least. As the leader of the Deadlock Gang, it’s Ashe’s responsibility to keep everyone in check. And Cassidy has always been a rebel, he thrives as a lone wolf. When they were young, Ashe was always trying to tame him. She would bark at him for not obeying orders and he would flash her that signature smug grin of his with a half assed “sorry” and a chuckle. But she had to admit, Cassidy’s aim and quick wit was unmatched among her crew. He got away with shit nothing else would be able to. Still, his confidence and disobedience was spreading to them like a disease and she was determined to stamp it out. 

Cassidy got a kick out of Ashes tantrums and would always tease her about them. He was the gasoline to her fire. And when she was fired up, she was near unstoppable. As far as he was concerned, he was doing her a service by entertaining her anger. During his time in the gang, they saw their most success. It was no coincidence, it was their synergy that they were able to make a name for themselves. But they got sloppy, the gang got caught and Cassidy was absorbed by Blackwatch. 

Years later, they met yet again, facing each other head to head when Cassidy retrieved Ashe’s stolen contraband. And they realized nothing had changed. Ashe was still as stubborn as an ox and Cassidy was the same smug bastard as ever before. 

However defiant Cassidy was out on the field, he was always on his best behavior when it came to you. Keeping a respectful distance, but never missing an opportunity to breach it. That is to say, he’ll play by your rules until he can coax you into playing by his. And he’s charming, it’s easy to let your guard down with him, and you do. You’re slippery as an eel, though, and it’s hard for him to pin you down when you’re vulnerable because you shy aware from him when you are. He’s like a hunter patiently waiting to snare you in his trap. 

Ashe is different. She’s impatient and forceful, she lacks the graces that Cassidy has but has some of her own. She can’t lull you into security like he does, but she’s a natural born leader and it’s hard to say no to her when she gives you an order. You find yourself doing as she asks without even realizing it. She loves your obedient nature, adores how easily you fold under her. She’s never really had to seduce anyone before, she’s so used to getting what she wants just by asking for it. But she has to go through the song and dance with you and she’s terrible at it. She usually has all the graces of a socialite but loses it when she realizes her weakness is you. 

When the two discover that they’re both pining for you, things get…out of hand. Ashe is absolutely livid and you have to beg her to drop her coach gun and listen to reason. It doesn’t go far and it isn’t long before she mets Cassidy out in the barren desert and threatens to snuff the life out of him then and there. Cassidy calls her bluff, saunters out to meet her, hand hovering over his peacekeeper. He stops, about 20 feet away from her, positioned as if ready to draw in a moments notice. 

He’s in his element. Cassidy knows that out of the two of them, he’s easily the most suitable romantic partner. So he faces the conflict as confident as ever, rest assured in his ability to woo you. But that’s not what Ashe is concerned about. It didn’t matter if you prefer Cassidy or not, she was going to take you regardless. But he always had to make himself an obstacle in her path, one she still couldn’t best. Because of him, nabbing you is going to be much more difficult than expected. 

In the midst of their fighting, you make yourself scarce, eager to remove yourself from the situation. You weren’t sure how you got into this mess, but now you had the two most notorious outlaws in the New West on your trail. Still, you weren’t completely hopeless. Having been so close to Ashe and Cassidy, you discovered their blind spots and could evade them for a considerable amount of time. When you slipped through their fingers, Ashe jumped at Cassidy’s throat, accusing him of some kind of plot to steal you away. Cassidy was caught completely off guard. He was ready to win your heart for good, defend your honor and you just up and left him to fend for himself. Neither of them were happy with you scurrying off. 

Just like the old days, they teamed up again on a mission to search for you. And when they find you, they work together in punishing you for wondering off. It’s in these moments that you belong to the both of them, pushed towards Cassidy and pulled back into the arms of Ashe. They find their camaraderie again in torturing and toying with you. It quells their conflict, if only for a moment. But there’s no way they can share you like this for long. 

Cassidy is a passive combattant at first, still confident that you’ll be running to him by the end of this. He’s an experienced playboy that can play your body like a fiddle. But Ashe is more emotionally invested in you than physically, and her sincerity is touching. Sure, she’s harsh and controlling but she cares for you like a doting mother. If he finds you’ve grown more partial to her, that’s when hell breaks loose. 

Then, the situation becomes more dire. It’s turned from a playful show into a fight for your favor. Now that bedding you hasn’t worked, Cassidy is much more forceful and violent in his approach, and Ashe doesn’t like this one bit. He might put his hands on you if you misbehave, and if she sees any marks that aren’t hers, these two will spend all day screaming at each other. You’d never seen Cassidy invested in these arguments until now, but it seems like he’s taking this more seriously than before. 

There are plenty of times when you slip away from them, but they always find you. Cassidy used to be impressed with your evasiveness, he seemed to get a kick out of your little game of cat and mouse. But once things turned sour, he was swift to make an example of you. Ashe was never entertained, though, and is happy to punish you once Cassidy hardened up a bit. 

If you ever feed into your Stockholm syndrome and they break you in, you’re basically their baby. Cassidy will soften up towards you and spoil you rotten, Ashe will still be the disciplinarian that barks orders at you. They still fight over you, and sometimes one or the other will take off with you by themselves for a while. But they always come back to meet each other in the middle, if only to please you.